Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
Kain
I stood at Godfrey’s dock, staring at Andrew’s dead body, which had been pulled from the water by one of Godfrey’s men. Blood stained Andrew’s clothes on his chest from the multiple gunshots. The bullet wound on his forehead swelled with blood smeared around it.
A strange heat crawled through my chest. Relief came first, sudden and fierce, like a chain snapping loose inside me.
Then anger followed, hot and bitter. The man responsible for putting me in that hell and stealing years of my life was now reduced to this—a stiff corpse.
Beneath the anger and the relief, something unexpected settled over me.
Not peace, but something close to a strange quiet.
I looked over at Godfrey. Was he experiencing this strange feeling of shock, relief, and emptiness?
For a moment, the world tilted, and I concentrated on my surroundings.
Soft yellow lampposts along the dock cast long reflections onto the black waters, the light flickering with each shifting wave.
I listened to the sounds of boats thunking against their moorings and the smack of water lapping against the pier.
The salty air and smell of seaweed filled my nose.
My pulse roared in my ears as the past flooded back fast—the needle piercing my neck, the lack of breath, the first cut into the human body to retrieve an organ, the feel of a bloodied heart pulsing in my palm, the unstoppable tremors, the endless nightmares, the hopelessness, the guilt, the determination to survive, the fear, the explosion, the escape . . .
It all was too much, and I stumbled a couple of steps.
Godfrey caught me by the arm. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, trying to compose myself.
The concern for Eva had drained me, and now this shock of Andrew took whatever energy I had left. And somehow, through all of this, the past felt . . . smaller now.
I had hoped Andrew could offer clues to save Eva, but now I had to look elsewhere.
“He’s dead.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “And took part of the past with him.”
“I imagined Andrew dead a thousand times,” Godfrey said. “But not like this.”
I stared at Andrew’s lifeless eyes and pale skin. He’d been shot in the head and several times in the chest.
“I imagined him begging me to set him free. I wanted to hear him scream.” Godfrey sighed, looking out into the black waters. “But I don’t feel the satisfaction I thought I would.”
“It’s because you have a soul. Despite what he did to us, he’s leaving his wife a widow and a daughter without a father. They’re innocent in this.”
“If they knew more, they’d be dead.”
I whipped a look at Godfrey, wondering if the murderer had gotten to them too.
“I checked already. The wife and daughter are safe at the hotel.”
“Good,” I said.
“What do you want to do with his body?” Godfrey asked.
Thoughts swarmed in my head. “The killer must’ve known he was working with us. His death was a bold statement—a challenge. The kill wasn’t a display with bouquets of flowers. Andrew’s death was quick. Maybe the killer lost his patience.”
“Maybe he wanted this to be on the news,” Godfrey said.
I nodded. “We won’t give him the satisfaction. We give the corpse to Calvin Wong’s farm. I think it’ll satisfy Hudson and Timber knowing their kidnapper’s body fed some animals.”
“What about his family?” Godfrey asked. “His wife and daughter will wonder about him.”
“Send an anonymous note to the wife, saying his enemy got to him,” I said. “That’s the only closure we can give them.”
My phone rang, and I picked up the call immediately. “Hi, Harry.”
“Milo is back.”
“I’ll be there soon.”