He nods, agreeing to tell me the truth and accept the pain I’ll dole out. It’s not like he has a choice, but he’s at the point of giving up. The fight has left him, and he’s accepted death is coming to get him.
“Tell me everything.” I press the pliers into his pinkie as he screams out everything I need to know.
* * *
Finishinga kill usually leaves me on a high I don’t come down from for days, but as I finish tossing Ben’s body parts into the fire pit, I can’t find that peace.
He confessed everything to me after I skinned his first finger, giving into the fact that I wouldn’t stop until he did. He was just done and knew the quicker he answered, the quicker it would all be over for him.
Everything he told me makes me angry, though. Her father wants her dead because she’s essentially sitting on a goldmine with absolutely no idea because she hasn’t read the letter her grandmother left.
A letter explaining that, years ago, her grandparents had purchased some old land to build their dream home, but had found an old bunker of sorts.
A bunker that was probably similar to my kill one, just buried, rather than hidden in the underground of a secured building.
When they’d opened it, they had found their own version of a treasure trove. Philip had been the one to discover it by exploring the way any ten-year-old boy would do, and when his parents donated most of it to local museums, he became infuriated.
He wanted to live the rich and high life even then, and they didn’t. They wanted to have a normal life that didn’t revolve around money.
Ben said Philip would tell him the story over and over again growing up. About how, one day, they would die, and Philip would get access to the money they’d kept aside in a bank account for tough times. But they left everything to Liv.
Eventually, Philip and Ben both received handwritten letters, much the same as what I assume Liv’s will look like. The letters explained they would never see the money because they were selfish assholes who couldn’t be trusted, and the only soul deserving of that nest egg was my girl.
It infuriated Philip that the daughter he’d all but disowned got everything, and acted like her life hadn’t changed.
I’m aboutto close up the cellar after soaking the floor in bleach, when Olivia’s screaming jolts my system. Looking at my screen, I watch as she tosses and turns, screaming in her sleep. I know my time is up. I’ll have to finish cleaning up tomorrow.
Closing and securing the bunker and garage, I run back to the house. Unlocking the doors with my app as I go, so I can get to her.
By the time I get to the room, she’s curled into a ball against the headboard, crying as Sadie comforts her. The sight has my chest tightening. “Baby,” I whisper, moving toward her, uncaring that I have her brother’s dried blood on my clothes. I don’t look like I bathed in his blood, but it’s a fair fucking amount. I just can’t take the time to change and shower when she’s suffering like this.
“Jon,” she whimpers, and I swallow hard.
“I’m right here. Tell me what you need,” I beg, crawling onto the bed.
She lifts her face out of her knees, tears soaking her face. “Make me forget. Please,” she begs, lowering her knees and spreading her legs to let me get closer. “I need to forget that someone tried to kill me,” she whispers, and I nod.
“Can I touch you, baby?” I ask, waiting for her response.