Page 35 of Dangerous Silence
The lawyer shook his head. “No. It’s not that. It’s—”
“Cut the bullshit,” Axe said. “You’re not going to help Muro anymore.” Axe paused, waiting for Harris to argue. Axe circled the man, each step heavy with power. “You’re going to drop Muro as a client, and put him on the blacklist for all of your other associates. And on top of that,” Axe stopped behind the man, “you’re going to report him to the Feds.”
“The Feds man? I can’t do that. He’ll kill—”
“And there goes your mother,” Axe said. “Don’t worry about what Miles will do.” He held up a knife to the man’s throat, letting him feel the hard edge of the blade. “Because your wife? Your son?” He slid the knife against the man’s cheek, a single line of blood beading at the cut. “I’ll make you watch as I make them beg for death. And once I give it to them, I’ll kill you too.”
Axe stabbed the man’s leg above the knee. The man opened his mouth, holding back a wail, not wanting to make a noise again, learning his lesson. But his breathing quickened; he couldn’t get enough air.
“Whether they live or die doesn’t matter to me,” Axe said, ignoring the man’s obnoxious breathing. “I only care that you do exactly as I say. Then we won’t have to worry about your wife or son, just your mother.”
A chill ran through me. I wanted to believe it wasn’t true, that no one could be that cruel, but Axe had already killed that other woman. And I had seen what he could do to make someone ask for death.
“For good measure,” Axe said. Then he stabbed the man again, lifting the knife and bringing it back down, making a pin cushion out of Harris. Harris whistled through his teeth.
“Remember, Harris,” Axe said, leaning down. “I will enjoy killing you and your family a lot more than I will like letting you live. It’s in your best interest to not give me any reason to return.”
Harris nodded, his eyes closed, tears running down his cheeks. Axe cut through the tape and the zip ties, leaving Harris still shuddering in his seat. Next, he carefully wiped his hands on a small cloth, then pocketed the fabric. Then Axe nodded to me, motioning toward the door. I ran to the bookshelf and grabbedCrime and Evidence, lifting it to Harris, who still had his eyes closed.
“Hey,” I said. Harris didn’t move. “Uh, can I have this? I need it for school.”
Harris’s eyes opened wide, shocked, seeing me for the first time. He glanced between me, then to Axe, who nodded. Harris turned back to me.
“Yes. Take it. Take whatever you want.”
I tucked it under my arm. “Thanks,” I said. The man grunted. I followed Axe back to the car. Outside, he gave a sideways glance, eyeing the book. I plopped into the passenger seat of his car, then looked at the cover. Blue with gray and purple prisms covered the front, making it look like so many other college textbooks. I opened it, scanning the pages.
We made a stop back at that neighborhood, then headed back to Sage City. I let out a sigh. Though the radio wasn’t on, it didn’t bother me anymore. I had gotten used to it. There was so much noise, that just listening to the rumble of the engine, the tires rolling against the road, the air pressure of the wind as we passed—all of that was enough.
I tried so hard not to think about it. But my hands twitched with my thoughts, desperate to figure it out. Why had he killed them so easily? It didn’t make sense.
After a few minutes, I turned to Axe. “Did you have to kill them?” I asked. “His mother. That other woman. Both of them had nothing to do with whoever this man, Muro, is. You know that.”
“His mother was collateral. And the other was a witness,” Axe said, his eyes never straying from the road. “Your dad taught me that.”
“My dad?” My jaw dropped. “My dad wouldn’t kill someone like that. I find that very hard to believe.”
“Shep told me that you couldn’t think about it. Collateral damage is necessary to make a point. And the bottom line is that if a person is a witness, you have to kill them. She had seen me; she knew that we weren’t supposed to be there. And I couldn’t keep her in line like Harris.” He shrugged. “You can’t think about it. Her life is over. That’s it.”
I stared at him. “My dad would have never killed a woman like that.”
“He did,” Axe said. “Many, many times.”
A tremor ran through me. But how could he?
“Bystanders?” I asked.
“Witnesses,” Axe corrected. It was as if bystanders suggested innocence in his eyes, and he needed me to know that they weren’t innocent. Their crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I stared at my hands, hands that I had gotten from my mother and father. If Axe was telling me the truth, then what did that mean about me? Was I a killer too, like Dad? Or were Mom’s genes more dominant inside of me?
Had my dad ever really been a butcher? Or was he someone else? Did he live a separate life?
This had to be a bad dream.
“When you were four,” Axe said, “You asked Shep if you could open up a farm for dogs and birds.” The image of a red shack popped into my mind, the one we had kept in the backyard for Dad’s tools. A shack that always stayed locked. I had never questioned it. But now, I had a sick feeling in my stomach. “You wanted as many pets as possible. And for your birthday that year, Shep got you another dog. You cried of happiness. Cried because you couldn’t believe how happy you were.”
My heart sank. It was only a couple of years later when he took them all away from me.
