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I get on this first thing in the morning when people are back in the office, and you all go get some rest? I’ll give it my all, I promise.” Mrs. Moore’s swollen, red eyes lifted to mine. She stared at me as if trying to figure out if I was all talk or really meant it. Finally, she nodded and rose to her feet. So did I. But instead of walking to her car, she tilted her head back and looked up at the night sky.
“I hope so. Because God be my witness, I won’t be some forgiving, sweet old lady if we find my little girl dead in some ditch.” Her voice quivered. Her eyes met mine again as tears streamed down her face. “I’ll carry hatred and rage in my heart until the very last breath I take. And I’ll pray to God, Satan, or anybody else who’ll listen to bring nothing but pain and misery to whoever did this to my daughter.”
Many people measured a parent’s abilities by their financial success or educational background. But from what I’d seen on the job, real love wasn’t about material wealth or a perfect resume. True affection came from the mom who played Uno with one hand while holding a cigarette in the other or from the mom who lost her temper in the parking lot during her kid’s tantrum but covered them with kisses and hugs before bed.
“I don’t need you to be afraid,” I said coldly, wiping the blood from my cheek. “I just need you to be in pain.”
You’re not my kind. You’re a monster from pure darkness. I’m a monster walking in the light.”
“Some women find men who carry the world attractive. I think they call them ‘well-seasoned.’”
“Fighting fire with fire only makes the flames bigger,”
“That was work,” Josie said, stepping in. “Happens when your dad’s in the FBI, saving the world.” Pride filled her voice. She had so much understanding for a kid her age. I couldn’t help but grin at her. “He’s about to tell us that he has to leave,” she continued, grabbing my hand. “And that’s okay.” She looked up at me, her eyes shining. “He’s tired all the time. But he still does so much with me. When I’m an adult, I wanna be just like him.”
Maybe two wrongs could make a right. But who decided what that right was?
“Most great men’s downfall is a woman,” Jan joked softly. “Most great men’s downfall is the man himself,” I countered.
“You didn’t do it for me," I said, my voice steady. "You did it for yourself. If it were for me, you would’ve fucking asked.” Without another word, I pulled the trigger.
