Page 5 of Monstrosity
His face drains of all color. "Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, you're?—"
"I’m Riodhr Rojas. Yes." I lean forward, close enough to smell his fear-sweat. "And you were there that night, weren't you, Miguel?"
"No! No, man, I wasn't even in Tallahassee five years ago!"
"Liar." The knife slides between his ribs, just deep enough to nick a lung. Not fatal. Not yet. "I have security footage from the day it went down. You were there. I saw you with my own eyes."
"Okay! Okay, yes! But I didn't pull the trigger! I was just the driver! It wasn't my call!"
"Whose call was it?"
"You already know the answer. We just did our jobs, man. We were told to hit your club hard, and we did."
"Flora wasn't involved in any of this." Even saying the words, all I can think about is her.
My pregnant wife, her only concern being a good mother to our daughters.
"She did more than you think," Santos gasps. "We saw the logs. She reported suspicious cargo manifests. Cost us three million in product and got six of our guys arrested."
"So you killed her."
"No! I just drove the car!"
"But you watched." I twist the knife slightly, just enough to make him scream. "You sat in your car and watched them murder my pregnant wife."
"She fought, man! God help me, she fought so hard! Tried to protect her belly. I thought she was gonna pull through. I really did! You were all there, it all happened so fast. I… I didn’t know she was gonna actually die!"
The knife slides deeper.
Something breaks inside my chest. Something that's been carefully locked away for five years, wrapped in rage and buried under an ocean of blood.
"We thought... we thought maybe the EMTs could save her!"
This is pointless.
He will beg and fight for his life for as long as he can, but it won’t make a difference.
I stand, walking back to the tool table.
This time, I skip the subtle instruments and go straight for the heavy artillery.
"Miguel Santos," I say conversationally, selecting a particular item that gleams under the work light. "You've been very helpful tonight. More helpful than you know."
"Please, man, I told you everything! I cooperated!"
"Yes, you did. You told me exactly what I needed to hear." I turn to face him, holding my chosen tool. "You even confirmed that the woman I love is in danger because of animals like you. You confirmed that my wife was an innocent who died because she tried to protect children from your poison. And you confirmed that five years of hunting your kind hasn't been nearly enough."
"What... what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to show you what happens to men who threaten children. What happens to men who kill pregnant women." I flipthe switch, and the blowtorch hisses to life. "And then I'm going to make sure Bembe gets the message loud and clear."
"Wait! Wait! I can help you! I can tell you where Bembe is hiding! I can?—"
"Miguel." I adjust the flame to a beautiful blue cone. "You've already told me everything useful. Now you're just going to help me send a message."
What follows isn't interrogation anymore. It's art.
It's justice.
