Chapter 39
Casey
The house looks just like my mother described it in the dossier.
It’s a basic rancher in a middle-class neighborhood.
Most of the homes around it have been updated over the years.
More than a few have a second floor dropped on top.
Decent, newer-model cars are parked in the driveways.
It’s the sort of area with a good mix of working-class folks.
The sort of place my parents would’ve loved.
“It’s hard to imagine he’s in there.” I stare at the simple house. The lawn’s been well-maintained, but it feels empty. There’s no evidence anyone lives in it, while all the houses nearby have basketball nets, soccer rebounders, kid bikes, and other signs that life keeps moving forward.
“Donnell confirmed it. There are three other safe houses mentioned in the dossier, but this is the only one on Long Island.”
“Was my mother here?”
Declan slips his hand into mine. “I can’t be sure. But it sounds like she visited at least.”
I try to imagine my mother coming out here. I can’t begin to picture what her reasons might’ve been. “I just want him gone.”
“You don’t have long to wait.”
We stand in silence, watching the building from across the street.
Dozens of Whelan soldiers are moving into position through the night.
Snipers are posted in trucks surrounding the building and watching every single inch of the exterior.
Twenty men are spread out around the back with high-powered rifles and full-body armor.
From what I’ve heard, they think Senesi is alone in there, but the blinds are drawn tight and nobody can confirm.
“What’s the plan?” I ask after a while. It’s nearing midnight and there hasn’t been any movement at all.
“I was thinking I’d go knock on the door.”
I stare at him, eyebrows raised. “Seriously?”
“He knows he’s surrounded. That makes him dangerous, but he isn’t stupid. I don’t think he’ll try anything desperate.”
“The man’s one of the more prolific killers in the history of the New York underworld. You seriously want to just… knock on his door?”
“Better than standing around here waiting for something to happen.”
“We could always start shooting.”
“Sure, but you want closure. Can’t get that from a corpse.” He starts slipping on a Kevlar vest and tosses me one. “Helmet too. Better safe than dead.”
I follow his orders, strapping myself in with trembling hands.
He double-checks to make sure I’m wearing it properly and makes me shove a military-grade helmet on like I’m a little kid going roller skating.
Once I’m ready, he has a quick conversation with Seamus and words pass through the soldiers.
Snipers prepare themselves and several men move closer to the house, tightening the noose.
“Stay behind me,” he says, striding toward the driveway. “No matter what happens, keep me between you and him.”
I’m too afraid to argue. I stay close, right on his hip, as he approaches the front door. I want to tell him to stop when he reaches out and rings the bell. It’s like we’re shoving our heads into the den of a hungry lion.
But the door simply unlocks and opens a crack. Nobody speaks, and the house seems dead and quiet, except for a light on toward the back.
“Vincenzo Senesi,” Declan calls out, pushing the door open with his foot. He draws a gun with his hands, holding it steady. Behind us, the soldiers come even closer. “You know it’s over. Come out and talk.”
More silence. My heart hammers in my ears. I’m tempted to turn and run away, but I’ll always wonder if I do that. Would my mother have stood her ground? Would she have seen this through? When Declan moves forward into the house, I force myself to follow.
It looks like it hasn’t been used in years. There’s dust on the banister and most of the furniture is covered by drop cloths. It smells musty and stale. I look around, wondering if my mother stood in this same spot, before I notice something hanging on the wall near the hallway.
It’s a photograph of a woman. She’s young and pretty. I frown a little, reaching out to touch it.
“Don’t do that.” Declan stops me. His grip on my wrist is firm.
“Look at her.” I’m trapped between horror and pure fascination. “It’s her, isn’t it?”
He seems uncertain. “Who are you talking about?”
“The woman in those pictures. It’s my mother.” The second I say it, I’m completely sure.
That’s her. No doubt in my mind.
She’s young. Her hair’s lighter than I remember.
I have her nose and her cheeks. Her skin’s glowing and she’s laughing about something.
There’s an ocean behind her even though she’s in jeans and a sweater.
I’m guessing the beach in winter maybe, but it’s hard to say.
The picture’s faded and clearly very old.
“There’s more.” Declan moves forward into the dining room. He snaps on a light and I have to cover my mouth to keep from screaming.
There are hundreds of pictures. Some of them are low-quality printouts.
Others look like they were professionally developed.
They’re stacked in layers almost like someone was using them for wallpaper.
The sheer number of them is overwhelming, but as I move closer, squinting and staring, my heart feels like it completely stops.
All of them show my mother at various stages in her life.
I recognize her from the pictures Sheila showed me. A few of these look like they’re straight from our family photo album.
Some show friends and acquaintances, others include family members, but my mother is the focus of each and every one.
Her face is circled in some. In others, all the people except for her are scratched out. There’s one showing me when I was a baby, but my eyes are removed. Another where she’s leaning against my father, but his head’s been cut off. There are so many I feel like my legs are going to give out.
They’re stuck to the walls with tacks in swirls and explosions like the ground vomited up this documentary of my mother’s life.
I grab Declan’s arm to keep myself from falling over.
“I’ve got you,” he says, his voice calm and smooth. “It’s okay, baby, it’s going to be okay.”
“They’re her. They’re all her.”
His expression hardens. “You should go back outside.”
“No!” I try to pull away but he’s holding on tight. “No, I can’t go now. Look at all this. He’s been…”
“Obsessed,” Declan whispers darkly.
It crystallizes for me. The sharpness of it cuts my insides. Declan’s beautiful face stares around him, his expression unflinching and uncaring, almost like we’re standing in some museum instead of an exhibit of pure insanity.
This could’ve been him.
If circumstances had been different, maybe he might’ve been like this with me.
He certainly watched me from afar.
Except this, it’s pure insanity.
Suddenly, that letter my mother left makes more sense.
Senesi is a menace. His obsession went too far. It didn’t matter what I said or what I did. He couldn’t release me.
“He was in love with her.” The words are like bile in my throat. “That’s what she meant. He was in love with her and wouldn’t leave her alone.”
“She was afraid for herself.”
“Exactly. He was stalking her. I bet he was threatening her.”
“But she didn’t feel the same way.”
“Not even a little bit… and he couldn’t accept it.”
There’s a noise in the back of the house. It’s a thump and a human groan. I move forward, but Declan holds me back and steps in my place. He shakes his head and indicates that I stay behind him. I shiver, terrified, and every part of me wants to run from this house. There’s too much sickness.
But now I understand.
This is why he hates me so much.
Because my mother was never his…
And I’m my father’s daughter.
I follow Declan into the next room. It’s a kitchen and living area. Except there’s no furniture. No table, no chairs, no couch or anywhere to sit. The floors are dominated by dust, spiderwebs, and a trail of blood.
My toes go cold. Senesi’s kneeling in the middle of the den with blood pouring down his arms. Cuts are sliced deep into his biceps. He’s breathing fast and shallow, but he doesn’t seem like he’s in pain.
Declan keeps his gun trained on the ruined old man.
“It went all wrong,” Senesi says, raspy and soft, almost like he’s talking to himself. “She wasn’t supposed to marry him… she wasn’t supposed to leave.”
“You were stalking my mother.” I stand next to Declan, despite his warnings to stay behind. “You loved her, didn’t you?”
“She was my sunshine…” He looks at his blood-covered hands. He’s wearing an old suit, ruined now. A knife lies on the floor beside him.
“Why did you do this? Why did you come back?”
“I got tired of running. I couldn’t get her out of my dreams. Even after I killed her, she wouldn’t leave me alone. It was worse after that, so much worse, even though I begged her… I pleaded with her every night…”
Declan whispers softly, “He’s deranged. Let me put him down.”
I put a hand on his wrist. “Not yet.”
Senesi slumps forward. His head nearly touches the floor and his arms hang limply behind him. “I hoped you would be like her… I wanted you to fix me… but you’re more like him.”
“Like my father.”
“I hate him. I hate him so much. He stole her from me. He took what’s mine and I could never get her back…
” He sits up suddenly. I flinch back, terrified, as Senesi slices a hand through the air.
Blood splatters across the front of my vest. “Now I’m reduced to this.
I’m wretched… I’ve always been wretched… ”
Pity swells in my stomach. This man is pathetic.
Even after all this time, he still holds on to a woman who never cared about him.
She actively hated him and worked to take him down just to be rid of him.
Instead, he engineered her murder and disappeared, only to return years later, still unable to let her go.
It’d be sad if he weren’t so dangerous.
“She hated you.” I can barely feel as I speak the words. It’s like I’m shedding layers and layers of burden. “She despised you. But she loved my father and she loved me. You were nothing to her.”
“You’re wrong.” Tears roll down his twisted face. “You have to be wrong!”
“That’s why she sold you out to the FBI. That’s why she tried to ruin you. My mother hated you. She was never yours and never would have been.”
He screams and throws himself forward. His body launches itself from the floor, his injured arms flailing. Declan knocks me sideways, sends me careening to the floor, and pulls the trigger.
One bullet smashes into Senesi’s chest. The old man wheezes and keeps coming, a knife in his hand suddenly, torn from some hidden pocket. He slices and stabs, screaming like a monster. Declan shoots again, again, again, three more bullets, as Senesi hammers the blade down into the Kevlar vest.
I scream and leap to my feet. Senesi falls on Declan, the tip of the knife buried in Declan’s vest. They struggle, fighting for control of the gun as Senesi bleeds all over the place.
I leap across the room. The other knife is lying in a puddle a few feet to my left. I grab the hilt, sticky and red, and leap onto the old monster’s back.
I plunge the knife into his neck.
He gags and rears back in shock. I bury it as deep as I can, and as he flails back, I rip the knife out, sending a shower of blood spurting from the wound.
He screams, trying to plug the bleeding, but it’s too late. He stares at me in horror, falling to his knees, blood pouring from between his fingers and staining everything around him.
“She fucking hated you,” I hiss in his dying face. He slumps sideways and hits the floor. His eyes begin to fade. “And I fucking hate you too.”
Senesi lets out a wheezing rattle and goes still.
I throw the knife away and run to Declan. He’s lying on his back, breathing hard. I push his hands to the side and start unstrapping his vest.
“That… fucking… didn’t feel good.” He grins at me as I reveal his uninjured chest. “But could’ve been worse.”
I let out a relieved sob and collapse into his arms.
He holds me tight. Nearby, the body of Senesi cools, lying motionless and dead. “You’re okay,” I say through tears. “You’re really okay.”
“Nice aim with that knife. Remind me never to piss you off.”
I laugh stupidly and bury my face in his chest.