‘I don’t know why he let me live. I wish he hadn’t. But since I’m here, I want to help.’
Sam stared deep into Zack’s eyes and felt the man’s warm blood begin to flow over his fingers.
‘Why should I believe you?’
Zack gritted his teeth as the blood from his wound continued to flow freely down his neck.
‘Two bodies were removed from your house this morning. They belonged either to you or to me. What scenario do you want to believe?’
‘I want the truth.’
Zack snorted and moved his head back to rest it against the window. Sam didn’t move with him and the knife lost contact with the wound. Blood soaked into the collar of Zack’s white shirt.
After a moment, Zack sighed. ‘The truth is that I fucked up and paid with the lives of my wife and baby girl.’ Zack’s voice broke and his eyes filled with more tears. ‘I did everything he asked. I just . . .’
‘Just?’ Sam prodded.
Zack raised his chin to stare at Sam through bloodshot espresso-brown eyes.
‘I thought it was about money,’ he said slowly, as though still trying to piece it together in his own brain. ‘I brought what I could. It wasn’tevery dollar he asked for, but everything I could get my hands on. I hoped it would be enough.
‘I waited on the street outside your house. He chose the meeting place. He said it was the final step: the money in exchange for my family. Instead, your house exploded with my family inside.’
‘Jesus!’
Zack continued, his voice so soft it was nearly lost in the buzz of light traffic.
‘I thought I caught a glimpse of Kalli, my baby, standing at the window, waiting for me, alive and trusting I would save her.’
Zack’s eyes were so full of pain, Sam nearly forgot his own.
‘Why did you leave the scene?’
Zack rubbed at his eyes. ‘To do to myself the same thing you wanted to.’
‘What stopped you?’
‘Courage. Or lack of. I got drunk instead.’ Zack sighed heavily. ‘Couldn’t even do that right.’
Sam took a closer look at the face of the man across from him. He looked how Sam felt. His chocolate-coloured skin was sallow with a tinge of grey. His eyes, sunken with weariness, looked even deeper-set against hollow, sucked-in cheeks. He was dangerously thin and it was difficult to gauge his age as his thick, close-cropped hair wavered on the cusp of adding cream to its coffee.
The only feature that hinted at a prosperous normality was his wardrobe. The suit alone,despite its rumpled state, must have cost more than Sam’s entire liquidated worth.
‘How do you know me?’ Sam asked.
‘I don’t,’ Zack answered. ‘Not really. I guessed you were the owner of the house. I’ve been following to see if you shared the blame.’
‘For the death of your family?’
Zack nodded.
‘And if I did?’ Sam asked.
Zack inclined his head with a subtle nod.
Sam looked down and saw a small silver pistol clutched in Zack’s right hand. He relaxed his arm, bringing the knife down to his lap.
‘You’ve got the better hand,’ he said.
‘But I didn’t use it.’
‘Why should I believe you?’ he asked again.
‘Do you need to?’ Zack removed a linen handkerchief from his pocket and used it to staunch the blood still flowing from his neck. ‘If I’m lying, you’ll find out when the police identify the bodies. If I’m not, I’m the only friend you’ve got.’
Sam rubbed his chin, feeling the sandpaper stubble that had grown over the last few hours. He needed an avenue for his anger; a vent for the burning madness filling his mind, but as he studied the distraught man in front of him, he came to the decision that Zack wasn’t it.
He held out his hand. ‘Sam White.’
Zack’s gaze flicked down at the offered hand before locking with Sam’s rigid stare. The air inside the car was thick and rigid. The momentlasted less than an eye-blink, but in that flash a bond was formed. Zack returned his gun to his pocket and accepted Sam’s hand.
‘What do we do now?’
Sam stared deep into Zack’s eyes and felt the man’s warm blood begin to flow over his fingers.
‘Why should I believe you?’
Zack gritted his teeth as the blood from his wound continued to flow freely down his neck.
‘Two bodies were removed from your house this morning. They belonged either to you or to me. What scenario do you want to believe?’
‘I want the truth.’
Zack snorted and moved his head back to rest it against the window. Sam didn’t move with him and the knife lost contact with the wound. Blood soaked into the collar of Zack’s white shirt.
After a moment, Zack sighed. ‘The truth is that I fucked up and paid with the lives of my wife and baby girl.’ Zack’s voice broke and his eyes filled with more tears. ‘I did everything he asked. I just . . .’
‘Just?’ Sam prodded.
Zack raised his chin to stare at Sam through bloodshot espresso-brown eyes.
‘I thought it was about money,’ he said slowly, as though still trying to piece it together in his own brain. ‘I brought what I could. It wasn’tevery dollar he asked for, but everything I could get my hands on. I hoped it would be enough.
‘I waited on the street outside your house. He chose the meeting place. He said it was the final step: the money in exchange for my family. Instead, your house exploded with my family inside.’
‘Jesus!’
Zack continued, his voice so soft it was nearly lost in the buzz of light traffic.
‘I thought I caught a glimpse of Kalli, my baby, standing at the window, waiting for me, alive and trusting I would save her.’
Zack’s eyes were so full of pain, Sam nearly forgot his own.
‘Why did you leave the scene?’
Zack rubbed at his eyes. ‘To do to myself the same thing you wanted to.’
‘What stopped you?’
‘Courage. Or lack of. I got drunk instead.’ Zack sighed heavily. ‘Couldn’t even do that right.’
Sam took a closer look at the face of the man across from him. He looked how Sam felt. His chocolate-coloured skin was sallow with a tinge of grey. His eyes, sunken with weariness, looked even deeper-set against hollow, sucked-in cheeks. He was dangerously thin and it was difficult to gauge his age as his thick, close-cropped hair wavered on the cusp of adding cream to its coffee.
The only feature that hinted at a prosperous normality was his wardrobe. The suit alone,despite its rumpled state, must have cost more than Sam’s entire liquidated worth.
‘How do you know me?’ Sam asked.
‘I don’t,’ Zack answered. ‘Not really. I guessed you were the owner of the house. I’ve been following to see if you shared the blame.’
‘For the death of your family?’
Zack nodded.
‘And if I did?’ Sam asked.
Zack inclined his head with a subtle nod.
Sam looked down and saw a small silver pistol clutched in Zack’s right hand. He relaxed his arm, bringing the knife down to his lap.
‘You’ve got the better hand,’ he said.
‘But I didn’t use it.’
‘Why should I believe you?’ he asked again.
‘Do you need to?’ Zack removed a linen handkerchief from his pocket and used it to staunch the blood still flowing from his neck. ‘If I’m lying, you’ll find out when the police identify the bodies. If I’m not, I’m the only friend you’ve got.’
Sam rubbed his chin, feeling the sandpaper stubble that had grown over the last few hours. He needed an avenue for his anger; a vent for the burning madness filling his mind, but as he studied the distraught man in front of him, he came to the decision that Zack wasn’t it.
He held out his hand. ‘Sam White.’
Zack’s gaze flicked down at the offered hand before locking with Sam’s rigid stare. The air inside the car was thick and rigid. The momentlasted less than an eye-blink, but in that flash a bond was formed. Zack returned his gun to his pocket and accepted Sam’s hand.
‘What do we do now?’
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