Page 83 of Mafia Captor

“Hmm.” He remains unconvinced this is a good idea.

I’m with him; getting dropped off alone in a graveyard probably isn’t my best idea. But we’re already here.

“Thanks again.” I open the door and the cool night air rushes into the car. I’ve got one foot on the ground, but a clearing of the driver’s throat stops me.

He says, “Ah…are you forgetting something?”

“What?”

He glances at the phone in my hand. “You gonna pay me?”

“Oh, shoot. Sorry! Hang on.” I pull up the app, sending him the payment and a generous tip I can’t afford. “Thanks. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome. And be safe.” He shoots me one last worried look.

I shut the door, my boots crunching over the gravel drive as I make my way to the paved path. The cab pulls away slowly, like the driver is unsure about his moral obligation in leaving a woman alone in a place like this in the middle of the night.

I’ll be fine. The angry squawk of a low-flying crow makes me glance up. He’s so close I can see his glittering eyes. Creepy. Okay, I’m 99% sure I’ll be fine.

The full moon is bright, lighting the night with an eerie bluish tint. It’s beautiful, but in that haunting way that finds you holding your breath, waiting for something to happen. A chilly gust of wind caresses my face. Tendrils of my long dark hair get stuck to my lip gloss. I stare up at the moon as ifit’s a promise of something beautiful to come.

A ding from my phone startles me, making me pause my journey. I look down at the screen. “Shit.”

It’s an alert from my bank.

Of course.

My little splurge on the cab over-drafted my checking account. Looks like I’m walking home. I quickly splash a little cash from my dwindling savings account over to my checking.

I keep going, my eyes scanning the headstones. I’m almost to his. As soon as I see the name on the grave, tears spring to my eyes. I shouldn’t still be crying. I don’t even miss him. But here I am, standing at his headstone dabbing my eyes with a crumpled napkin I found in the pocket of my trusty yet worn gray wool coat.

Why do I keep coming back here?

He’s gone.

And I’ve got to move on.

I don’t know what haunts me more…the guilt or the sadness. After all, the death of a monster is still a loss of life. I just hate that I was involved in someone’s violent end.

My phone dings again, this time with the sound I use for an email notification. Kinda late for an email. I slip the phone from my pocket, sighing as I swipe my finger over the screen. It’s from my boss. My ex-boss, as of today. My fingers shake as I hold the phone closer to read the email.

Dear Ella,

I received your letter of resignation. Thank you for aiding The Primary School in making this a smooth process in what is otherwise a very unique situation.

“Unique. Code word for disastrous,” I tell the headstones.

As we discussed, two weeks’ pay will be transferred to your account tomorrow as severance.

Best,

Ms. Ross

Two weeks’ pay gives me time to find a job (hopefully) and hey—being unemployed means I can sleep in tomorrow. I guess being a person of interest in a murder investigation has its perks after all. I slip my phone back into the pocket of my coat.

The wind is growing stronger, rustling up a tornado of dried leaves at the heels of my black leather boots, equally as worn as my coat, but with a little polish they’re no worse for the wear. I pull my coat tighter around me. It’s time to leave. I give his name one more glance, my emotions caught somewhere between anger and relief.

Why did he have to do what he did?

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