Page 27 of His Pretty Little Duet

Something taps on his tongue, but then he nods, squashing it. "Always. Night, mate."

"Night, buddy."

I exhale a long breath as he closes the door behind him. As always, regret for my absence, for being just like Butch and Jimmy and finding business more important than them, whatever it is that keeps him a fort for his true emotions, settles inside me.

Being neglectful, it seems, is a family trait.

Which brings my mind back to my little deer.

Glancing back at the monitor, I go to the USB drive and open it up, clicking on the footage of Fawn from three months ago in that witness room. Marius recently confirmed the information on the footage. The mother's death, the boy she spoke of, Benji, is also dead, all leading me to believe her reasoning for being here. She is alone.

I press play.

"Your mother seems to think the drugs are yours," the officer says, sliding a photo over to her. "Lots of illegal contraband found."

"Foster mother," Fawn corrects, staring at the photo. Her confidence, bite, is nearly non-existent. "And she's lying. I don't do drugs."

"You're high, Fawn." He grins, her state humorous to him. "That would make you the liar. Not her."

She looks up to find him smiling, her eyes glossy, confused. "Have you spoken to Landon and Jake?"

He sighs, exasperated, uninterested. "Do you know that you could be charged with manslaughter for providing the drugs? Causing the boy's accident?"

Fawn straightens. "How do you know it was an accident? Who said that?"

He folds his arms over his chest. "Your brothers said he fell, Fawn. The three of you were in the basement, and the boy fell on the table. Stabbed himself with the leg. They both gave the same statement."

She lets that sink in before saying, "They told me they didn't remember. So, you spoke to them separately then? Landon away from Jake? Jake's a bully."

"You seem suspicious," he taunts, and she visibly loses her resolve—sinking back. "You know the people who are the most suspicious usually have the most to hide."

She shuts down. "I'm sorry. I'm not thinking properly."

I pause the screen.

So, the boy died in front of her only three months ago. That is not something normal people just walk away from unscathed. She's scathed?—

I've watched the life dissolve from within men's eyes, a few women and one girl, too. Only one person, though, that I would consider a kind of family member.Jimmy Storm. And his passing is always thick in the air around me.

Death doesn’t usually affect me.

But hislingers.It is in my pores, that sweet whiskey and cigars. It's in my mind that suspects everyone. In the shadow atop all of my dealings as I move several steps ahead of everyone else while he moves four ahead of me.Fucker.

How do their deaths linger around young Fawn?

What actions are driven by their passing? What do their emotional phantoms guilt her into feeling, doing? Is she here because of what happened that night... or is she simply retreating, vulnerable, trying to find any semblance of family she can latch onto?

Neglected.

Like my brothers were...

That fucking realisation hits me hard, bringing regret, consideration, fucking pity, perhaps, down on me. And that girl from so long ago slams back into my mind. The one she reminded me of. The one who was just business. A casualty of the Family. A job to be done.

Just like Fawn.

I stand and head towards the kitchen.

Slowly making my way towards the light, I loosen my tie further, feeling warmth on my skin from the humidity, from the half bottle of whiskey I've ingested.

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