Page 9 of The Cleaner

"Dead. They died years ago. They were filthy rich and left him the house along with some serious cash," Jer tells us. I guess it's not just Stephen who’s been looking into this fucker; Jer has too. "He's burned through the majority of that cash, mostly through gambling and drugs."

What a useless bastard. "Has he done this before Callie?" I question, wondering if it's a pattern with him. Surely a man likethat doesn't just start abusing women. He must have done this before.

"There are no reports with the Gardai, and from everything I've uncovered, he's managed to keep out of trouble for the most part," Jer snarls. "It doesn't mean shit. We all know that it's easy to keep out of trouble as long as you're smart about doing so."

Jer and Butch would know more than anyone. They're both in their late forties and have never been arrested. Hell, they've never had any charges brought up against them despite the work they do.

The rest of the journey is filled with Jer and Butch bouncing ideas around of what they intend to do to Keith once they get their hands on him. Little do they know, I'll be the one killing the fucker.

We arrive at Keith’s house and see that his lights are on. It infuriates me that he's at home acting as though he's done nothing wrong. Fucker almost killed my sister and he's at home chilling. Fucking bastard.

It's after two in the morning. It's dark and no one's around. It doesn't take us long to enter the fucker's home. There's loud music playing and Butch mutters a curse. "Fucker needs to get some taste in music. This is shite."

I move through the house, noting the rubbish lying around everywhere, from newspapers to takeout food. The man's house is a fucking sty. I have no idea how the hell he lives like this. I make my way to the living room and see that he's fast asleep on the sofa. The smell of smoke hits me as I get closer, and it takes every restraint that I have not to kick the fucker to wake him.

"Mav," I hear Jer yell, and I tread back through the house to locate him.

I see Butch at the bottom of the stairs and he nods his head toward the upper level. "You go on up. I'm going to wait here and make sure this fucker doesn't do a runner."

I take the stairs two at a time and when I reach the top landing, I see Jer and Stephen standing in a room. Both of them have the same murderous expression on their faces. "What?" I ask, wondering what's pissed them off.

Entering the room, my heart races as I glance around the walls. Every fucking inch of them has pictures of my sister. There's not a single space that isn't covered.

"Fuck," I say through clenched teeth as I edge closer to the table that's in the corner. It's got candles and pens on it. My jaw clenches even harder as I see that he's got even more pictures of her there. Some are of her in her underwear, taken at her apartment.

Motherfucker.

"He's going to die," I say slowly, my fists clenched. "He's going to suffer for what he's done to Callie."

Both Stephen and Jer nod solemnly. "He will."

"Then let's get this shit done," I grind out. "I want these pictures gone." I don't want anyone else seeing them. If Callie knew he had them, she'd freak the fuck out. That's not going to happen. She'll never know. They'll be gone and no one will know they were here.

"Butch's boys are going to torch this fucking place," Jer tells me as we move down the stairs. "That cunt is coming with us and we're going to make it look as though he was never here."

"We'll take him to the docks," I say, my gaze on the fucker still sleeping on the sofa.

“You got something planned, boy?" Butch asks with a grin. It makes the harsh, weathered lines on his face soften just a bit.

"Yep. This cunt has hurt my sister one too many times. It ends today. He's going to be in for a world of hurt."

Stephen laughs. "Do you want to use my wood chipper?"

The man is notorious for the way he kills people. There are only a handful of people who know that the Eraser is Stephen,but everyone knows the myth of the Eraser and how he kills his victims—by using a wood chipper and mangling their bodies inside of it until there's nothing left of them but tiny fragments. Most of the time, of the time, his victims are alive as he feeds them to his favourite machine. He loves hearing their fearful screams as the blades of the wood chipper take them.

"No. What I have planned is something that will take time and I need the dock for when I'm finished."

I see the shock on all their faces. Jer's the first one to recover. He grins widely. "Alright, Mav, we'll head to the docks. Anything else you need?"

I shake my head. I saw a hacksaw when I entered the living room. I'll be bringing that with me when we leave. When I get started, Keith's going to be in a world of hurt. "You have somewhere at the docks where we won't be disturbed?"

This time, Jer's smile is huge. "Yup. Trust me, Mav, you can do whatever the fuck you want with him. Have him make as much noise as you want. We won't be disturbed."

I feel my own smile grow at his words. Good.

Butch and Stephen grab Keith and carry him out of the house. The fucker is out for the count. He doesn't wake up to either of them lifting him. It doesn't take them long to get him into the boot of the car, and once again, we pile into the vehicle, with Jer driving. It usually takes about thirty minutes to get from Malahide to the docks, but it's late at night and there's hardly any traffic on the road, so we'll be there a hell of a lot quicker than that.

I rest my head against the seat and close my eyes. I'm calm, a hell of a lot calmer than I would have expected. I guess that'll come later.

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