Lethal Lover

19. Liam

The detective sits across from me in the interrogation room, and all I can do is smirk and wait until enough time passes that they unlock the door and let me walk free. Yes, my face got plastered all over the news, and no, my father will not like it one bit. Sadly for Smitty, there’s going to be a price to pay. I know he didn’t do this—rat on me just to get out of a vehicular manslaughter charge. No, this came from someone else, and I have a feeling I know who did it.

“Well, our witness places you at the scene, Mr. Salvatore.” Kraus plays a good bad cop. If I didn’t know he was on my payroll, I’d believe he really means what he’s saying. But the cash that’s flowing from my accounts to his virtually guarantee this gets wrapped up quickly and brushed under the rug.

They really have this thing down, too. The room is extra warm to make me sweat and get thirsty. They’ve refused to give me water to drink, and I see the sweat beading on Kraus’s fat forehead too. Maybe his typical MO is backfiring on him because he knows I won’t talk and I’ll walk out of here anyway.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Detective. It wasn’t my money.” In fact, there is no money trail. It’s why I do all business transactions in cash only, untraceable bills, nonsequential serial numbers. Nothing can ever come back to me. As it stands, the second they aired my face on the news, my father was alerted. He”s probably got a hit out for Smitty, who’s in county lockup by now.

“Our eyewitness saw you paying the driver of that truck and the driver of the cab, who, by the way, is in lockup after being treated by a veterinarian.” Detective Kraus glares at me and pounds his finger into the stainless-steel table. “Tell the truth. This was you. You did this!”

His raised voice startles my lawyers, who sit on either side of me. My hands, cuffed and locked to the table by a manacle, curl and uncurl. It’s all an act for the camera. There is no hard evidence, only circumstantial correlation. Even if Kraus were being real and this were a true interrogation, they can’t hold me because a judge won’t sign off on a warrant without hard evidence.

“Mr. Salvatore, I urge you not to speak.” Mr. Reid holds his hand out in front of me and leans over the table. “Detective, if you have any real evidence, I demand you show it to us now or arrest my client. Otherwise, we are leaving.”

Kraus breathes in deeply and then out hard. He’s known since the second I walked in this place in cuffs that I was going to get cut loose. I’m guilty of everything they say, but short of Smitty giving his sworn statement to that guilt—which he’ll never do on account of my father threatening his family—they have no way to hold me.

“You should direct your client to provide the details he knows about this investigation before we find them. We’ll cut him a deal if he talks now.” Boy, Kraus really is good. I am amazed that he can act so well. Maybe I’ll hire him for the theater someday.

“That’s it. We’re leaving.” Mr. Bryant stands along with Mr. Reid, and I join them after they unlock my cuffs, buttoning my suit coat and smirking.

“It’s been nice talking to you, Detective.” I wink at him and follow my attorneys out of the interrogation room. The two of them walk shoulder to shoulder, and I trail in their wake.

Slick is obediently waiting in the lobby of the police precinct as we pass by, and he stands and falls into step with me. Heads turn as we pass people. They know who I am, which still surprises me that someone never told Elena until only within the past few days of my real identity. I figured I’d get away with it for a while, but I have a good excuse for her when she asks why I didn’t tell her.

“Your dad’s out there, man.” Slick looks straight at the back of Mr. Reid’s head as he talks. I do the same, staring at the back of Mr. Bryant’s neck. I knew my dad would be here. He’s going to lecture me again, but he doesn’t realize all of this was done before I made the promise to myself that I’d clean up my act and be more careful.

“Yeah, well, are we surprised?” I hold my hand up against the barrage of flash photography as we walk out onto the sidewalk and toward my father’s limo. He’s parked in a no-parking zone waiting for me, which means Slick is not invited, and neither are the lawyers.

Bryant turns to me and says, “Say nothing to anyone. We’ll handle it.”

I wave them off. “You were merely a formality for the cameras, boys. Go home and kiss your wives.” Breezing past them, I climb into the backseat of my father’s limo and let Slick continue walking down the street where he parked my car.

“Well, it seems you’ve handled this yourself.” Dad smokes a cigar, the window cracked an inch or so to let the smoke escape, but smoke hangs in the air, anyway.

“I don’t need a babysitter.” The limo pulls away, but the paparazzi follow with their flashing lights and shouts.

“I never said you did.” He takes a puff of his cigar and exhales the smoke rings. “But I do expect better of you.”

“Yeah, well, I expect you to be my dad for once in my life, but that’s a different story.” I stare out the tinted windows as we drive away from the precinct. The paparazzi will follow me for a few blocks, but they quickly lose interest when they realize I’m not going home. Slick will catch up eventually. “You know, I can handle things myself. I’ve taken your advice to heart.”

“You’re sloppy, and you will get caught one day.” Dad puffs on his cigar and exhales the smoke rings again.

“I know, alright?” I snap. “I didn’t invite you here.”

“Mmm, fine.” He sets his cigar in the ashtray and cracks the window some more. “As long as you’re aware of the consequences of your actions. They will catch up with you eventually.”

I rest my head against the leather-upholstered seat. “Well, when that time comes, I’ll face it then. Right now, I just need to confirm my suspicions. Smitty would never give me up. You know that.” The car bumps on a pothole, and I sway and watch the buildings pass by out the window. My head feels heavy with exhaustion as I lean back into the plush leather seat and close my eyes for just a moment, trying to quell some of the tension knotting up my shoulders.

”You know, my boy,” Dad continues, his voice gravelly but gentle amid the clamor outside, ”if Smitty is indeed a snitch—and I trust your instincts on these matters—it”s not just about him. You”ve gotta think about everyone he knows and has ever worked with. They could be involved too.” He pauses for effect, and I feel his eyes boring into me from across the darkened cabin before continuing. ”And when they come for you, you won”t have anyone but yourself to blame.”

It doesn’t sit right with me. Smitty and I go way back. This doesn’t smell like something he’d do. I have a different suspicion. “I don’t think it was him. I think it was this guy from the theater. The one who told the actress who I really am. I think he just showed up at the precinct and lied. That man wasn’t there that night of the car wreck, but I’d bet my left kidney he’s the one who fingered me. He wants me out of the picture.”

Dad doesn”t say anything for a moment. He just takes another puff of his cigar slowly, watching the city lights blur past the tinted glass. His face is deep in thought, the smoke curling up around him as if he were some kind of oracle. Then, he speaks softly but firmly.

”If that”s the case, then you gotta be very careful how you handle it,” he says finally. ”A snitch is like a rattlesnake—once it”s outed itself, it has no more fear. They can turn on anyone they please and make up stories without any regard for the truth. The best thing to do is find some way to make them disappear permanently.” The car glides through a red light as we pass by an alleyway littered with trash and broken bottles. His words cause me to think about what he says.

”Disappear...” I say, my voice sounding small under his quiet authority. This stoic yet unmoving force across from me in the back of a limo has seen things, and I am here to glean wisdom from him.

He nods slowly. ”Think about it like this, Son. You”re dealing with a predator, and when you hunt them down, you have two options. Either you let them continue to prey on those around you, or you teach them a lesson they won”t soon forget. The important thing is to keep your cool. Be methodical, be patient, and most importantly, be ruthless.” His eyes meet mine in the dim light. ”Remember this. A snake doesn”t strike until it feels threatened. So, don”t give them any reason to strike. Slowly but surely, you gather information on who their associates are and where they might go.”

He pauses for effect, taking another puff of his cigar. ”Watch their patterns, their habits,” he says, exhaling smoke into the air. ”Find out where they live... hmm... what they like to eat...” He takes another drag and blows it out through his nose, watching me intently. ”And when the time is right…” His voice drops to a low whisper. ”You make your move.”

I don’t know why in my insolence I’ve never taken time to truly learn from my father. The man is a genius. He single-handedly set up this entire organization to run the way it has, though his father had some things established before him. I’m a fool to continue acting on my own. So, I ask, “How would you do it?”

Dad”s expression softens, and his eyes twinkle slightly in the low light. He seems to enjoy teaching me. ”I would start with their favorite hangouts, their safe spaces. Find out who their friends are, what they”re doing when they”re not working,” he says, taking another puff of his cigar. ”Find out if they have any weaknesses—a gambling problem, an addiction, anything that could be used against them. Get close to them without being obvious.”

He draws a line across his throat and then begins to laugh, a deep, booming, maniacal laugh. “Poison, a gun, hanging… make it look like suicide. Leave evidence that life was too hard for them and print a note on a printer to leave behind for anyone who actually gives a fuck. You see, Son, you have to play things meticulously or you get caught. Being rash only means making mistakes.”

Dad is right. I’ve been rash in every way on every count this entire time. It’s time for me to be calculated and plan every single aspect of this out. Warren will pay for telling Elena about me. And he’ll pay for going to the cops, too. He’s the only one it could have been. And this time, there will be no mistakes and no one will find out. I’ll even convince the rest of the cast that Warren was so torn up over the deaths of his coworkers that he took his own life. It’s perfect, and my father led me right to the water to drink.

And I’m gulping that water down.