Page 82 of Vicious Hearts

What thefuck?

"As in Adrian Coffey?"

"Show some fucking respect," Oliver spits. "My father was asenator."

"Most people think of him as a pedophile before anything else."

"And that's the problem!" Oliver says. He's working up to a rant, and it seems wise to let him. "He was a public servant and didgoodwork, like me. And he kept me calm. Brought me the occasional sad little soul when he and his friends were done, and I dispatched them. I was happy, he was happy, and the kid wasn't living in hell anymore. But Father was murdered, and I didn't get any more treats. I had to go looking for my fun, and that's when I thought of Momma, the lovely Mrs. Coffey. Let me tell you, she wasn't pleased to hear from me."

"Do you call her Mom?" I ask. “She isn’t old enough.”

"No, she isn’t,” Oliver sneers. “The gold-digging bitch just married my father and spawned the little fucker downstairs. I call her Momma to piss her off, but she always reminds me that Eddie is heronlyson. My real mom didn't bother with me. She was one of my father's whores. I grew up in foster homes until I tracked him down."

Keep talking, you egocentric idiot. You think your origin story is of interest to two people who are listening under duress.

"Moira was working hard to rehab her image after my father's hobby went public," Oliver continues, "so she wasn't best pleased to find he had a secret son with similar interests to his old man. She was on the board of trustees at Always Home, and I wanted in—I was already known for charity work, so with her patronage, it was a cinch."

"Why did she help you?" I ask. "She could have gone to the police."

"Because she knew I would take Eddie and kill him. And she's not a wonderful person either, you know. She knew about my father's proclivities but enjoyed her lifestyle, so she looked the other way. It's much the same here. She reinvented herself as a committed activist for victims of crime, a protector of innocents, just like Roxanne here. Momma knew I would use the charity's resources to find the children no one would miss. The buck stops with me as the manager. I dealt with every referral personally, remember?

"You asshole," Roxy croaks. Oliver laughs.

I'm so proud of her.There's every chance we're both gonna die, yet she's insulting him.

The cops are around the corner. The door is open. Someone needs to pass by and look inside, that's all. But Oliver has nothing to lose now. As soon as he sees a single uniform, he'll shoot Roxy dead.

Oliver is still talking, blathering on about his mission of mercy.

Fucking piece of shit.The playbook never changes. God complex. Natural order. Justification that doesn't and can never exist, except in the mind of a man who cannot accept what he is.

I keep my eyes on Roxy's face. She stares back at me, holding my gaze.

I can't save her. She knows it. But her eyes are calm, her expression serene.

I'm so sorry, charodeyka. I let you down. Don't forgive me, not this time.

Oliver howls and lets go of Roxy, dropping his gun. Roxy wheels around, keeping hold of the knife buried in his thigh, and twists it hard.

"Take that, you fucker!" she screams in his face.

* * *

Roxy

Oliver is reaching for me, a guttural roar of rage ringing from his throat. Ben runs down the stairs and barrels into the flailing Oliver, sending them both rolling across the floor.

"Get the gun, Roxy!" Ben cries. "Find it!"

The two men are on the ground near the wall, each trying to get over the other. Ben pins Oliver with his knee and punches him, spattering blood along the baseboard.

I see the gun near the kitchen door and try to run past the fight. Oliver's hand darts out, gripping my ankle, and I fall heavily on my face, hitting my forehead again. I look over my shoulder and see Oliver jab his fingers hard into Ben's eyes. As Ben recoils in agony, Oliver rolls out from under him.

He's coming after me.

I grab the gun and wheel around. Oliver is right there in front of me, getting to his feet, moving fast.

"You stupid little—"

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