“You’re going to be all right,” I tell her. “Just lie still. Don’t try to talk.”
Her eyes dart over my face in a moment of panic, then she taps my arm and moves her hand to her outside pocket.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay, don’t move. Help is coming.”
She keeps trying to get at her pocket, and she finally gets her hand in. Slowly, shakily, she pulls a key out.
“Take…” she says, pressing it against my wrist. Then the light fades from her eyes… and she’s gone.
All the sound from around me starts to bleed back in and suddenly, I realize I’m kneeling on the ground in the middle of chaos. People are screaming and running and calling for an ambulance. It’s too late, though. Marla’s gone.
I take the key as her hand goes limp and lay her down on the ground. As I step away and blood pools underneath her, I hear someone yell for me to stay where I am. Some random citizen with a phone in his ear.
I need to make tracks before the authorities get here. I run back to my car. As I get it started, I dare to take one last look at the scene. Marla is lying dead on the pavement, the whole world around her falling apart. This will be all over the news in less than an hour.
I just noticedthat I’m covered in Marla’s blood. I’ve walked into my apartment and gotten as far as the kitchen before I realize that it’s all over my hands and sleeves and… It’s everywhere.
My instinct is to get clean. Being covered in blood is never good in any scenario, even if I’m not the one who did the killing. I grab a glass, fill it with water, and drink it to steady myself. Then I start taking off my clothes and I go to the bathroom to shower.
I go through the motions of getting myself cleaned up and disposing of my clothes automatically. Really, my mind is trying to piece together what the fuck happened.
Nikolai sent me to kill Marla, best friend of his daughter, girlfriend of his late son. Suddenly, he wants her dead. I’m his best enforcer so when I think about it logically, it makes sense to ask me to be the one to take her out.
So, why did someone else do it? And who was that someone else? Whoever it was, they’re a crack shot with a sniper rifle. That bullet threaded the needle past my head and hit her.
Or, maybe I was the target and Marla was just in the way.
No, Nikolai might’ve been pissed at me for speaking up for Tati, but that’s not a murderable offense.
And besides, putting a hit on me instead of just facing me like a man is cowardly. Nikolai is anything but that.
So, then, why? Why Marla? Why me? What the hell is going on?
After I shower and throw on some sweats, I put my bloody clothes in a bag to go to the incinerator. But before that, I go through my pockets. Immediately, I find the key she handed me before she died.
Kneeling in the hallway in front of my bathroom, a garbage bag full of my clothes, I hold a little golden key with numbers embossed in them up to the light. There’s little flecks of her blood on the tip and around the key’s bow where she held it between her fingers. She passed this on to me before she died. This little key.
As I stare at it, clarity comes. This is a key for a safety deposit box. That’s why she was at the bank. Why would she give this to me?
I put it in the pocket of my sweats and finish bagging up my clothes, then I make the trip down to the incinerator to burn it all away.
More questions fill my mind as I take the last step of covering up the evidence of my presence at Marla’s death. And when it comes down to it, I understand why she’s a target.
She’s got something on Nikolai. I can’t imagine what. The two of them have barely spoken to one another as far as I know. Then again, she was Nicki’s girl.
I walk back into my apartment, lock the door, and sit down on my couch, turning the key over and over in my hand. If this key threatens my boss, then it means that someone might be looking for it. The honorable thing to do would be to get rid of it. Or better yet, tell Nikolai and hand it over to him. It’s probably what I might’ve done if this had been any other person.
Or if it had been done any other way. The more and more I think about it, the more I realize that I was set up. I don’t understand why just yet, but I’ve got a feeling that this key might unlock the reason.
There’s a lot I could do about this, but I’d better be cool for now. Someone may be watching to see what I do next. I’d better keep this under wraps until I know more.
With that thought, I get up and go to my bathroom. There’s been a loose tile in the wall behind the toilet for ages. I’ve long since given up calling the landlord to have it fixed. I kneel down andfind it, the little piece of tile directly behind the tank, and pull out the piece of tile, then slide the key in.
It should be safe there for now.
