Seventy-Four

Sal ripped the duct tape from my mouth in a single searing swipe. “Didn’t I tell you to mind your own fucking business? Where am I going to get another heroin connection?”

He knelt in front of Lucy and worked the tape loose. Lucy whimpered as he pulled at the adhesive. Once the gag was gone, Sal pulled out a Leatherman and snipped the ties at Lucy’s wrists and ankles. She wrapped her arms around herself and sank lower into the gravel. Sal snipped my ties and I grabbed Lucy and pulled her close. She dug her fists into my back, as her sobs broke through. Tears splashed across my cheek.

She said, “They grabbed me when I was sitting next to Walt.”

I just held her close. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Sal crouched next to us. He touched Lucy on the shoulder and said, “I needed to get Talevi out here to finish him. I’m really sorry you had to be scared for so long.”

“I heard Talevi talking to you on the speakerphone about killing us,” said Lucy.

“I know,” said Sal. “I know you were scared. You did great. I know guys who have sh—Well, never mind. You did great. I was hoping Tucker would figure out a way to let you know.”

I said, “Let her know what? I was scared too.”

Sal turned to me, his gorilla brows knit close. “You? Why were you scared?”

“Why was I scared? I thought you were going to shoot me in the back of the head.”

Sal stood. “Why?”

I stood. “Why? What do you mean why? You were working for Talevi, you drove us out here, you said you would kill us.”

“You asshole!” Sal slapped me across the face. Pain exploded through my cheek.

I stumbled and fell to one knee. Lucy screamed.

I said, “Jesus, Sal. What the fuck?”

Sal loomed forward over me. “What the fuck? What the fuck? What kind of an animal do you think I am? You thought that I would really fucking kill you? My cousin? My mother’s nephew?”

I said, “What was I supposed to think?”

Sal raised his fist. I flinched. He lowered it. “You were supposed to think that we were fucking tricking Talevi. You were supposed to know, fucking know, that I wouldn’t kill you. That I would rather die than kill anyone in my family.”

Lucy stood, slid a little behind me, supporting me as I faced Sal’s rage.

Sal continued, “You were supposed to know that you’re my fucking cousin and that this motherfucker”—he kicked at Talevi’s corpse—“would never come between us. You were supposed to fucking know what it means when I come to your mother’s funeral, or that we spent Christmases together. You were supposed to fucking know what family means.”

“I’m sorry, Sal,” I said.

“Did I ever do anything to hurt you? I mean, when you weren’t calling me a fucking liar and stealing pictures that could get me sent up for twenty years? When you weren’t being a complete fucking know-it-all South End shit who’s ashamed of his family, ashamed of his roots?”

“No, Sal. You never did anything to hurt me.”

“Did I ever give you one fucking piece of bad advice? I told you fucking weeks ago, weeks ago, not to dig into this fucking thing. I told you to leave it alone. I told you to stay away from Talevi. I told you to ignore the whole fucking mess. You think I did that for my health, because I had something to hide? I did it because I didn’t want you to get hurt. Now look at you. Your mother is dead. Lucy got taken. You made me shoot Talevi, and none of this fucking stuff would have happened if you had listened to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

I stared into the dark stones before me, unable to meet Sal’s eyes. Lucy hugged me and I put my arm around her. Shame crowded my face. I wished with everything I had that she hadn’t seen this, that I had understood my cousin.

I said, “I’m so sorry, Sal. Can we go home?”