Page 53 of Pen Pal

“What the fuck did you do?” I exclaimed. Durante grew up with us, but instead of a life of crime, he decided to become a cop. This was his first time in prison, as far as I knew.

“A couple murder charges,” he shrugged. “No biggie.”

“Fucking hell, what did the fuckers do?” Luca asked.

“They fucking deserved it, I’ll tell you that,” Durante snarled. “Why are you fucks still in here? Keep catching charges?”

“Enzo’s got a couple life sentences at this point,” Luca muttered. “Vitali got life, and I’m getting sentenced soon, but Ludovic’s got a few years.”

“Well, Ludovic will have to learn to fly alone without his three best buddies,” Durante sneered.

I shrugged. “If you can plead down to manslaughter, you might be out soon, too.”

“They ain't gonna get me for no fucking manslaughter,” Durante mumbled. “Not unless my brothers in blue make some fucking evidence disappear.”

I snorted because it wouldn’t surprise me. Durante might act like a good man, but we all knew he was a corrupt cop. The mafia would have his back and get him out in no time.

But I had a feeling that he wouldn’t stop at just one kill like me. Once I got the taste for it, I couldn’t stop.

“You know anything about the Branson harassment case?” I wondered.

Durante perked up. “Yeah, that fucking Mark twat calling his wife non-stop, what about it?”

“From what I read, their divorce will be final soon,” I informed. “What’s going on with that? Is he going to court andshit?”

“Fuck, I hope so,” Durante cringed. “Fucker’s bad news. He got at least two women who came forward as witnesses, but he scared them off. So I was tacking on two counts of intimidating a witness on his ass, but then these fuckers pulled up and dragged me to jail.”

“You went from jail to prison pretty quickly,” Luca observed.

“Yeah, well, the only nearby jail has lots of people I put in there, so they dropped me off here for safety,” he fumed. “Bastards.”

“That’s highly unusual,” Vitali commented. “You sure you’re not a snitch?”

“Yo, fuck you, Vitali,” Durante snarled.

I chuckled, shaking my head as I sat on my cot, pulling out papers and a pen. In case my little pen pal had forgotten about me, or my letter got lost, I wrote another one.

Amara,

Did my last letter get lost, baby? Is your work catching on? Because I plead the fifth. Getback to me.

-Enzo

I folded the letter in an envelope, sealed it shut, and placed it by the door. Maybe the guard would take it once he gave me my food tray.

I stared at the walls, barely paying attention as the men talked among themselves. I tapped my pen against my thigh, checking the phone occasionally to see if my men got back to me.

Nothing.

Hours ticked by, and chow time came and went. It was refried beans, mashed potatoes, and some sorry excuse for meatloaf today. But I ate it anyway, determined to keep up my strength for my little pen pal. I grew uneasy as time passed in a slow crawl.

The guard took my letter with my empty tray, and I hoped Amara would get my letter and reply this time.

I looked at my phone several hours later, and a reply lit up the screen from my brother-in-law.

No sign of her at work, but her car is parked in front of her house. Her boss thinks she’s out sick,he wrote.She hasn’t left her house since she went home a few nights ago.

I huffed out a frustrated breath. I supposed Amara might have been sick, especially if she hadn’t left her house. It also explained why she wasn’treplying to my letters, since I always wrote them to her work address.

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