Chapter 46
Forty-Six
Sabine
The moment Brittney’s car is out of sight, Astor gets out of the car. I have to run to catch up with him as he strides across the parking lot.
Astor pulls a thin silver tool from his pocket and picks the door lock in under ten seconds. Forgoing stealth and patience, he swings open the door and steps inside.
Heart racing, I glance over my shoulder before following him.
The apartment is tiny, scarcely furnished, and smells of must and mold. A loveseat sits in front of a television and a tarnished coffee table. A half-drunk bottle of beer sits in the middle. The dim orange glow from the security lights stream in through dirty, bare windows, pooling onto threadbare carpet. It’s just enough light to see around.
The scarcity of Leo’s belongings makes me sad as I picture the shy former soldier in my head. Leo lives a simple, solitary life. Not even a plant to care for.
Astor strides through the living room, checks the kitchen, then pivots to the short hallway that leads to the bedroom. There, he checks the closet and the bathroom.
“He’s not here,” I state the obvious, punctuating how nervous I am. “What now?”
“We turn this place upside down looking for anything of Chloe’s, especially an envelope or bag where he would have kept her lock of hair.”
“Shouldn’t take long,” I mutter, looking around the bedroom, a single bed and a stack of boxes in the corner.
Keeping the lights off, we turn on our cell phone flashlights. We make quick work of searching the bedroom first, the closet, the bathroom. Then the living room and kitchen.
“Why do you think Leo has so little possessions?” I ask as I filter through the pots and pans.
“He went straight from the military, where he was deployed six months a year, to working for me.”
“It’s sad.”
“It’s his decision. Just like it was his decision to continue to take my money while he was fucking Valerie. Just like it was his decision to not tell me that my child was actually his. Just like it was his decision to watch me weep over her grave, and still not tell me.”
A scraping sound outside the front door pulls our attention. We freeze, listen. A cat meows loudly, then fades away.
I blow out a breath and quickly replace the pots. “We need to hurry. We’ve checked everywhere. There’s nothing here. Let’s go.”
“One more look.”
Groaning, I push off the floor and follow Astor back into the bedroom. He rechecks the loose floorboards, the underside and backside of the bed, then puts his hands on his hips and studies the closet.
“One more look . . .”
I linger in the closet doorway as Astor filters through Leo’s clothes and shoes as he did before.
“Come on, Astor, we need to go.”
He turns, pauses, then looks up. We both freeze, staring at the small square covered cut out in the ceiling. A scuttle attic.
“I’ll get a chair.” I run into the kitchen, grab a chair and run back.
Astor climbs onto the seat and moves the thin panel cover.
“Hold my phone.”
Astor pulls himself through the small space, then reaches down for the phone.
My heart pounds as I watch the flashlight bounce around until suddenly, it stops.
“Did you find something?” I whisper-hiss, wanting to get out of here.
After a minute, Astor lowers himself out of the opening.
“What is it?” I ask, staring at the brown manila envelope in his hand.
“I found it on top of the insulation.”
My heart hammers as I follow him to the kitchen table. I hover my light above the envelope as Astor opens the flap and begins pulling out the contents, laying out each, one by one.
There are a dozen pictures of Chloe, from infancy to the age she died. A small beanie, the kind the hospital gives newborns. Multiple finger paintings ranging from smears to stick figures, drawn by Chloe.
Astor picks up one of the finger paintings and stares at it until his hand begins trembling. His face has grown flushed and that crazy, wild look in his eye has returned.
Two words materialize in my head.
Get. Out.
“Astor, take it and let’s go; let’s get out of here right?—”
The front door opens.
Oh shit.
The painting falls from Astor’s hands and he lunges into the living room.
Leo, dressed in jeans and black t-shirt, stops cold, startled. The blood drains from his face as he looks at Astor.
He knows.
Leo raises his hands in surrender and begins backing up. “I’m sorry?—”
“You son of a bitch.” Astor advances, chest heaving.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t mean to get her pregnant.”
Astor launches himself at Leo, slamming his body against the wall, and wrapping his hand around his throat.
Leo releases a gurgling sound and his eyes bulge with fear.
“You killed Chloe so I wouldn’t find out. You killed her?—”
Knowing that he’s fighting for his life, Leo slams his fist into Astor’s kidney and twists out his hold.
Astor pivots, delivering an uppercut that snaps Leo’s head back. Leo doesn't go down, instead, his eyes flash with rage that matches Astor’s.
Leo lunges toward Astor with a jab, which Astor blocks, one, two three in rapid succession.
Lightning flashes through the windows and the rain is so loud it sounds like a million bugs screaming in horror.
Astor answers back with a left cross into Leo’s eye socket, bursting open his skin. Blood sprays everywhere. Like a robot, Leo isn't fazed. They fight like rabid dogs, punching, jabbing, rerouting and attacking again. Blood is everywhere, on the walls, on their clothes, dripping down their faces.
This fight is different from the one Astor had with Cillian. Cillian meant to debilitate Astor so that he wouldn’t do something stupid. Leo, on the other hand, means to fight to death.
Astor swerves, missing a hook aimed at his chin and drives his shoulders into Leo’s stomach, sending him flying backward, both men tumbling to the ground. Astor gets on top of him and unleashes like an animal. Leo thrashes under his holding, jabbing him in the liver and kidneys but Astor doesn't appear to feel a thing.
“You killed her you killed you killed her.” His screams are manic as he pounds Leo’s face like a jackhammer.
“Astor!” I scream, “Stop, stop!”
Leo’s body goes limp.
I lunge forward, grabbing Astor’s shoulders, trying to pull him off but it’s no use. Desperate, I grab Astor's face and scream in his ear as loud as I can.
Astor stops, looks at me, his eyes adjusting as if coming out a trance. Then, he looks down at Leo. A full minute passes as his brain begins to process what he’s just done.
Astor doubles over Leo's body in uncontrollable sobs.
I begin crying too.
What feels like eternity passes until I am finally able to pull Astor to his feet.
We stare down at the body. We don't need to confirm he’s dead.
I put my hand on Astor’s forearm. “It’s done. Let’s clean up.”