Nine

Chapter 11. Trig

She calls me, breathing hard. Immediately my breath locks within my chest. I haven’t heard her sound like this since we left Las Vegas several months ago. She’s been happy, almost like a new woman. The panic attacks she used to have are gone, and she doesn’t cry anymore over Jenny. Nine has been in a really good place up until now. Something is seriously wrong. She’s crying and talking fast and I can’t hear her over the music in the background.

“Baby, I can’t understand you. Repeat it again,” I say, as I place one hand over my ear.

“He’s here,” she yells. “He’s here, and he’s sitting four tables away from me.”

Her voice is shaky.

“Whoishe?”

For a moment, I don’t hear her. The noise in the background becomes muffled, and it sounds like she’s dragging the phone across her chest.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god,” I hear her say.

“Whoishe?” I repeat.

“My uncle,” she shouts.

My heart skips a beat and then I shoot up from the bed. The poor girl went down to get ready for her very first photo shoot. A couple hired us for their anniversary. I should have gone with her, but she was so excited that she wanted to go down really early and prepare. She insisted I meet up with her later.I’m a big girl. I can do this. Those were her exact words. Stay calm, I tell myself.

“Honey, listen to me. I need you to come back to the room, okay.”

She ignores me.

“He’s just sitting there looking at little children as they pass.”

“You need to come back to the room, now,” I demand.

She ignores me again. It’s almost as if she can’t even hear me.

“I was just a little girl. He had no right. He can’t get away with it.”

The tone in her voice scares the hell out of me. It’s cold and empty.

“God damn it, Nine. Get your ass back up here, now!” I yell.

I’m hoping that will shake her, but it doesn’t. Instead, the phone goes dead. I reach underneath the mattress and pull out my gun. Nine has no idea I picked this up a few weeks ago, but I feel like I need it. It’s not for me. It’s for her. I wasn’t able to protect and save my brother, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let something happen to my woman. I stuff the gun behind my back, grab my keys, and run for the door. I’m running down the hallway toward Ricky’s restaurant, which is in the same hotel as ours. The place is packed. People are coming in and out. I’m searching around as bodies bump into me. Finally, I spot her. She’s on the other side of the room. I stop and stare. She picks up a serrated knife from a carving station and then she follows a heavy-set man through the exit doors.

“Excuse me,” I say, roughly pushing through more people.

By the time I catch up to where I saw her, she’s out of sight. I run outside and look around. I see her just crossing the street.

“Nine,” I yell.

She doesn’t turn around. I look farther up ahead of her and spot the heavy-set man from the restaurant. He’s headed for a cheap motel and Nine is right behind him. I cross the street just in time to see her climbing stairs. I run over and throw myself up each step as if they would melt away. My heart is thumping, and then I see her again. I try to control my breathing so I can talk to her. She’s standing outside a hotel room door. Her body is up against the wall. Her eyes are red from crying, and from the look on her face, I know nothing good can come from this. She’s holding something behind her back. In my mind, I know it’s the knife. I tell myself to approach her with caution.

“What are you doing, Nine?”

She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she points to the hotel room door.

“He’s in there.”

From behind her back, she pulls out the knife. Shit’s about to get real.

“Baby, you don’t have to do this,” I say.

“Don’t you know what he did to me? Don’t you fucking care?”

She moves closer to his door. I step forward.

“Give me the knife. What do you want? Revenge? Justice?” I ask.

She nods.

I’m afraid that at any minute now the whole police department will be surrounding us.

“Nine, I know how you feel. I know how angry you are, but, baby, it’s not worth it.”

She puts her hand on the doorknob.

“He doesn’t get to do this to another child. I want him dead.”

“How do you know that’s him? It could be someone that looks similar.”

“He came into my room every night. I know that face. It’s him.”

I creep closer. My hands are out where she can see them.

“It doesn’t make it go away. My brother’s gone, and I got my justice on Victor. It doesn’t take away the pain. It’s still there.” I tap my hand against my chest.

The doorknob starts to jiggle from within. He’s coming outside and in that split second I tackle her, tossing her up against the wall. The knife falls. I kick it back, pushing it off the landing and downstairs.

“No.” She bangs on my chest. Her head falls on my shoulder as I grip her tight. She’s sobbing, and just as he’s about to come outside, I swing her around so she can’t see him. She’s fucking lost it and this asshole strolls out and gives me a dirty stare. He has no idea I just saved his life. I’m holding her tightly as she thrashes around in my arms. I keep my eye on him, because I know this isn’t over. As soon as he’s out of sight, I slowly release Nine.

“Look at me,” I shout.

She’s spaced out like a zombie. I grab her face in both of my hands.

“You’re going to go fix yourself up, and get your ass back to that photo shoot. None of this shit happened. You weren’t here. You never saw him. Hear me?”

“But—”

“But nothing. I’ll handle it. Now go.” I point her towards the opposite way of where her Uncle walked.

She pulls away from me. The realization sets in of what I’m telling her. She starts to furiously shake her head.

“Trig. No.”

“Get the fuck out of here, Nine. Now!” I yell.

She backs up. I can see wet mascara stains on her cheek. She runs away, and I pray that the two of them don’t cross paths in the meantime. I breathe out slowly to calm my nerves, as I look over the balcony. The sharp knife is laying on the ground below.

“Holy shit,” I breathe out.

She was this close to killing him. I let that sink in. I run both of my hands down my face. She was ten fucking years old when he molested her. I stand there wondering if I should have let her do it. No. I tell myself. She would never be the same.

I know I wasn’t the same after I committed my first murder. I start thinking back to the day that I did it. I remember so badly that I didn’t want to carry it out. The Savior forced me to. The guy was laying there on the floor with his hands and legs bound. The Savior told me that once I got over my fear, there was nothing to it. I refused, at first. I shoved the gun back at him, and then he reminded me of my sister and how killing her kids would be child’s play. I hated him. He placed the gun in my hand and told me this would be my amateur killing and that if I didn’t do it he’d place one call and blow up my sister’s house. I walked over and the man on the floor began to whimper. He was begging me not to do it. I was sick to my stomach.

“Cock the gun, Trig. We don’t have all day. I have others I need you to take care of.”

“I can’t,” I shout.

The Savior picks up his phone.

“Stop,” I say.

I aim the gun at the man. He’s crying. I’ve never saw a grown man so scared before. I cock the gun and look at The Savior who seems to be barely grinning. It just makes me sicker.

“Go on,” he encourages me. “The faster, the better.”

It feels like I’m going to pass out. I can barely hold the gun straight. My teeth are chattering from nerves. I point the gun at the man’s head. He’s terrified. His eyes are big and he keeps begging. He won’t shut up. He’s saying whatever he can to make me lower the gun. From behind me, The Savior is yelling that time is running out, and I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I pull the trigger and then it’s over. Silence fills the room and I drop the gun. I collapse next to the body. I’m shaking and rocking back and forth. I start to hear a gurgle and look up to see the man is not dead yet.

“You’ll have to finish him off, Trig,” The Savior says.

“I’m not fucking doing that again,” I shout.

I bend over and throw up. My nerves are fried and I don’t have it in me. The Savior bends down and hands me a napkin first. I wipe my mouth with it. He then hands me a knife. I refuse to take it.

“Sooner or later, everything you touch will be used as a weapon. Get used to it.”

“I did my job. I’m done,” I say.

“The first kill is always hardest. I’ll do it this time, but after this one, you’re on your own. You finish everything you start. Understand?”

He walks over and leans down next to the man. I watch in horror as he quickly draws the knife across his throat. The blood spills out and I can’t even breathe.

“Knives are messy, but they always do the trick.”

“You could have just shot him,” I say in anger.

“You didn’t hit the right spot. This was done to teach you a lesson. The goal is to kill, not injure, and we don’t leave bodies around, so I’ll need you to move him.”

“What? Hell no,”

“It’s do or die time, Trig. Stop trying to be a hero. We all know people love the villain better. Now shut your face and move the body.”

And that was it. That was my first kill. You never forget your first or your last one, because they both destroy you. I take out the box of cigs from my back pocket and pull one out. I light it and inhale. I can feel the stress leaving me a little at a time. I roll my neck around.

“You know what? I just stepped into my car when I realized I left my wallet inside my room. I’ll have to get it and then I’ll meet you at the movies in about ten minutes,” I hear a man say.

It’s him. The uncle. He’s walking back up the stairs. I continue to puff on my cig and look out over the balcony. I can see him walking my way, but I avoid eye contact. He’s still talking on his phone. He enters his room, but leaves the door open. I pull black gloves out of my pocket and slip my hands into them. I then turn and sneak inside behind him. I quietly close the door. I draw my gun and point it at him. He grabs his wallet off the counter, and then he turns around. His eyes widen and he jumps back. I place one finger up to my lips. He closes the phone.

“Hand me the wallet,” I say.

“Take it. Just don’t kill me.”

I open it up and look at the name on his driver’s license.

“Fred Barnaby from New Mexico.”

The man remains quiet. I toss the wallet to the side. He looks confused.

“Do you have a niece named Storm Wilson?” I ask.

He clears his throat. I pray that he says no.

“Storm? No. Yes. No,” he stammers.

“I don’t like discrepancies. They make me nervous. Is it yes or no?”

“She’s probably dead. I don’t know. No one’s seen her in years.”

I squint my eyes at him.

“She’s not dead, is she?” he asks.

I shake my head. I walk around the room. He keeps his hands up as he watches me.

“Nice laptop. Mind if I take a peek.”

“I have personal information in there.” He starts to walk toward me.

“Back up, fuckface.”

I open it and start browsing through documents. Nothing out of the ordinary. I jump over to downloads and nothing interesting there either. I look over to Uncle Fred who looks like he’s about to shit his pants.

“Tell me about Storm’s parents.”

“Nothing much to tell. Her mom overdosed a few years ago, and my brother, her dad, is in jail for robbery and murder.”

“And Storm? Tell me about her.”

His body tenses up. I can see his throat turning red. He starts to look around the room and then little tiny beads of sweat break out on his forehead.

“Sweet girl, that’s all I can remember,” he says. “She was very young the last time I saw her.”

“I bet she was.” I force myself to remain calm. Inside, I’ve already killed him.

I look back to the monitor. I scan over all the different folders until one catches my eye. It’s labeled tunnels and pipes. It seems off, next to all the other labels, such as 2015 Vacation to Korea or 2012 Office Party. I click on it and the screen instantly fills with child pornography. I slam down the screen.

“You’re a pedophile. You disgusting piece of shit.”

He backs up as I stand and march forward at him. I place the gun to his temple. He falls on the carpet to his knees.

“Do you know she’s here?”

“Who’s here?” he nervously says.

“Storm! Of all the islands in the world, you bring your nasty ass here, fucking up her world.”

I slam the gun against the side of his face. He falls down head first, and then he moans in pain.

I look over on the counter and grab his phone. I go straight to YouTube and hit search. I type in Swan Lake and let it play at full volume through his speaker.

“She said you used to play this song every night when you came into her room.” I kick him across his face. “How does it feel to be in fear?” I kick him again. The blood pours out of his nose.

I circle around him and then I kick him in his gut. The man looks like a coward beneath me. He’s crying and groaning and all I can think about is his hands all over Nine. The innocent little girl I never knew.

“Fucking pervert,” I say.

“I’m sorry,” he spits out.

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” I reach down and slam my fist into his bloody face. “You don’t get to be sorry,” I yell, and stand up. I step on one of his knees until I hear it crunch. He cries out.

“That’s definitely broken,” I warn.

I turn and look back to the laptop. Pictures of all of those naked kids run through my mind and it pushes the anger in me. I step forward so I’m directly above him. The gun is pointed down. I’m just about to pull the trigger, when I think about her. I picture her smile, her laugh, and the way her eyes light up when she’s not worrying. I think about her hand in mine, the sex and us kissing. I think back to the fighting and the struggle and then I lower the gun. If I kill him, then nothing about me has changed. I’d be a hypocrite. Just owning this gun puts me in that category. I can’t let him go free though. I can’t let him hurt her or anyone else again. Decisions. Decisions.

Fred moans out in pain and places his hand on my boot. I kick it off.

“Listen fuckface. Two months ago, I would have pulled the trigger, and then buried you out in the middle of the desert. And afterward I would have eaten dinner and not given a second thought about you.” I pause. “Luck would have it that your niece brings out my good side. I’m trying to be a changed man here, and you’re making it really difficult.”

He mumbles incoherently.

“Shut up. No one gives a shit what you have to say.”

I take the silencer out of my pocket, attach it, and then point the gun at his head.

“One shot and that’s it. You’re gone. One less pervert for all the mothers in the world to be worried about, but that would be too easy. No suffering. No pain. I don’t think so. I think you need to suffer for what you did to Storm. With that being said, I’ve decided you get to live…but it will be without a dick and you’ll have two fucked up hands.”

I quickly pull the trigger and take a shot at his crotch, and then one at each of his hands. He yells and then passes out. I kneel down and smack his face to wake him up. He barely opens his eyes.

“Do you know what they do to pedophiles in prison? I’d take some Vaseline if I were you.”

I stand up and then walk over to the counter. I open his laptop and face it toward the door, to make sure the pornography can be seen by police when they enter. I grab his cheap- ass, pay-as-you-go phone, call the cops, and put on the best country accent I can pull out.

“911. What’s your emergency?” the operator says.

“I think someone has been shot. I’m located at Carvers Inn on Biloxi Blvd. I heard bullets firing away from room 202 and then someone screamed. I saw a woman carrying out a child. She just kept saying he touched her baby, and then she ran away.”

“What’s your name, sir?”

I hang up the phone, take out the battery, and then stick them both in my pocket. I poke my head out of the door and then smoothly make an exit from his room. I’ve made it to front of the motel when I suddenly remember the serrated knife. It’s still on the ground back there. I swing around and quickly head back to retrieve it. I swoop up the knife and stick it in my pocket, and then I let my shirt hang down to hide it. I take his cell phone out and toss it into a nearby trashcan. Just as I’m about to leave, I hear sirens, and then several police cars pull up. I hide my bloody gloved hands in my armpits and walk past them like nothing, and then I’m clear. Once I’m out of their sight, I slide the gloves off and stuff them in my pocket. I make my way back over to the restaurant to check on Nine.

I walk in to Ricky’s and spot her. She’s clearly unfocused. Her face is filled with worry, and her eyes are watery. She’s snapping pictures, but she’s not in the moment. I sit down in the corner of the restaurant and watch her. She looks around and then her eyes meet mine. She exhales, almost in relief, but she looks pained. She thinks I killed him, and maybe I did. Maybe he’ll bleed to death in that motel room. Who knows? She starts to walk my way. I put one hand up to stop her, and then I point for her to refocus on her work. Two seconds later, six police officers enter. Nine and I briefly stare at each other before I look back at them. I watch as their eyes scan the place. They’re looking for someone. I put my elbow up on the table and cover my face with my hand. Suddenly a woman I recognize runs over to them from across the room. She’s the one that hired us for this photo shoot. She and the cops all walk toward my table and now everyone is standing right next to me. I see the woman wave Nine over and my heart drops.

“You made it. Thank god. I see you brought half the squad with you.” She smiles.

“Happy Anniversary,” the tallest cop says. “I would have brought the rest, but there was an incident over at one of the motels.”

Nine’s face tightens as she looks over at me.

“Oh my. What happened?” she inquires.

“Some woman shot the pecker off of some pedophile. Shot both of his hands too.”

“Did he die?”

The woman places her hand over her mouth. I lean in to hear the verdict.

“No. He’ll live. It’s almost as if the shooter wanted him to survive. Craziest thing ever.”

I look away as relief washes over me.

“Well. Karma always comes around. He deserved it.”

“No kidding,” the cop says.

“Everyone, this is my cousin Leon and his men. I know they’re in uniform, but they came here to celebrate with us.” She turns and shouts to the guests at various tables. They both laugh.

The cop is her cousin, and he’s just here to party. My body relaxes, and my head falls into my hand. I silently pray for strength. Nine is going to need it to deal with this, and I’m going to need it to deal with her. I slowly lift my head. She doesn’t appear upset. Instead, she mouthsthank you.

“Boys, let me introduce you to Angelina Krackle. She’s the photographer for our party and I would love if I can just get a quick pic of all of you fine gentleman.”

The boys smile and line up. Nine falls right back into motion, and I know everything is going to be fine. It has to be. No one died today.