I had to do it, of course.
She knew. She could bring me down. Even without the diary. I had to protect my kids, right? They’d been through so much. I couldn’t let it all come out. Not with what was now on the line.
Not now.
It was strange as I pressed the pillow over her face and held it there. Feeling her legs thrash and kick. There was still a lot of life in her for an old bitch. Stubborn. I said to her, why resist? That she would see her daughter soon. What was left for her here but to damn me? Still, she didn’t want to die.
I was struck that all these years later, it was pretty much the same way I had done it to her daughter. Who I rarely thought of these days. And as I felt her resistance start to wane, her fists lose their power against me, her legs slowly give up the fight, it brought me back. All the way to where it all started for me. Here in Staten Island. Under another bridge. Well, maybe not where it all started … It had already begun a long time ago. Todd. That mangy, little dog Jerry. I’d always had that dark edge, my mother always said. I thought I was free of it, but truth be told, I might as well have ended up in that hole next to Deirdre. Stuffed into that drum. Smelling of rot and decay. Food for the rodents and spiders. Because that’s how it’s been for me.
All these years holding it in.
So it had to be done. I mean, I couldn’t let her ruin me. I had to burn the house. The fire was just a diversion. To cover what I’d done and just in case there were any remnants that could incriminate me. But there was also another purpose. Even more important.
As a lure.
To draw him here.
Charlie had his job to do, but I had mine.
So I had to do it. I had to protect my family. She knew.
They all knew.