Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
KILLIAN
Butch takes a seat across from me in the booth I’ve been sitting at for over an hour, only increasing my agitation.
“We said one o’clock. Did you forget how to tell time?”
He opens his mouth to speak but quickly snaps it shut, probably realizing that this is not the time to give me fucking attitude.
The waitress brings him the same drink as me, knowing the routine, and sets his whiskey in front of him. He nods his thanks to her before he lets out a long sigh.
“I have nothing on Carter. Knox has made sure that nothing can be found. I think he has him listed under a fake name so you can’t find him. The good news is, I haven’t found anyone who has died matching his description.”
“And what about-” I ask, but he interrupts me. Staring at me, confusion marring his face, he asks the one question I don’t want to answer.
“Why Killian? Why did you do this to her—to your brothers? I almost refused this job, but I know you. Betraying your brothers? This is not you. Make me understand, or I’m not telling you what I’ve found.”
Normally, I don’t explain myself to anyone.
I’d like to tell him it’s none of his goddamn business.
Butch is not part of my family, and this is a family issue, but if he has the information I need, he has me by the balls.
And there is nothing I won’t do to get information on both Carter and Heather.
If they’re both dead, I want to see the bodies—I need to see their bodies.
Even though the thought alone is excruciating.
“I was trying to protect Carter. I became so obsessed with not letting her hurt him, I didn’t realize how fucking wrong I was. I couldn’t see—I was hurting him far more than she ever would.”
I take a swallow of my drink and continue.
“I can’t go back, but if I could, I never would’ve made that call. The girl I wanted gone so fucking badly—I miss her. And I miss my brothers, too.”
I leave it at that. I’m not confessing to a goddamn employee that my heart has been ripped wide open. If someone else was responsible, I’d fucking gut them.
“Alright, Killian. I’ll give you what I have, even though I’m not sure it’s going to help.”
He places a folder on the table and holds his hand over it, preventing me from opening it.
“Heather was released from the hospital a week ago and transferred to St. Dymphna’s.”
Fuck.
That’s where Carter was. The place is run by a religious organization.
Their slogan is ‘faith based healing,’ but there’s no healing.
It’s a place of torture. I know with my brother, they used his issues against him as a weapon.
They tied him up and forced him to be touched.
As I sit here nursing my Macallan whiskey, I wonder now if that’s how he came up with his insane idea for Knox to restrain him.
As bad as it was for Carter at St. Dymphnas, I somehow think this is worse for Heather.
Given her traumatic religious upbringing, this must be the cruelest form of torture for her.
It’s not lost on me that I put her there.
Maybe not directly, but it was a result of my recklessness.
Now it’s my job to get her out. If by some miracle my brother wasn’t successful in ending his life, this is the only path to earn his forgiveness.
By giving back what was taken from them.
“What are you going to do?” Butch asks as I flip through the folder, looking at the various things he has compiled. The first item I see is a photograph of Heather. She looks gorgeous as always, even with tear-stained cheeks.
I’m so fucking sorry, Killer.
I flip the image over as I look at a letter addressed to the judge in her case and suddenly feel physically sick.
Dear Judge Martin,
My name is Jedediah and I am Heather Mancini’s father.
I am aware that my daughter’s crimes are heinous.
She is very sick, but I believe she can be helped while also serving an appropriate sentence.
As we both know, Wellard Asylum is no longer an available option for her.
I would like to request that she go to St. Dymphna’s because, as I stated, she can heal while serving her sentence.
I am not suggesting she should ever go free.
They can offer her faith-based healing, and I beg of you to allow my daughter to become whole again.
Sincerely,
Jedediah Mancini
“Jesus Christ.” I say under my breath as I run a hand through my hair. I helped her father torture her. Everything he said to the judge about wanting her to heal was a boldfaced fucking lie. He knows as well as I do this will fucking break her.
“What are you going to do?” Butch asks me again.
I swallow back the rest of my drink and answer him.
“I’m going to get her out, and then I’ll kill that motherfucker.”
He knits his eyebrows together, his expression concerned as it probably should be.
“How, Killian? Let's talk this out.”
I shrug my shoulders and rise from the table.
“The same way I got Carter out.”
He yells after me, but I don’t pay him any attention. Every minute she’s stuck in there brings us closer to losing her permanently. I fucked up, but I’m going to make this right even if it kills me, and it just might.