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Kate ran to the kitchen sink and lurched up the small amount of water and tea she’d had earlier. She reached for a glass, her hand trembling as she took it from the cupboard. She rinsed her mouth several times before taking a big swallow. It felt cold going down and instantly relieved her nausea.
She wiped her mouth with a dishtowel and paced the kitchen. Eddie knew about Marco’s flat tire. How would he know that? She made a note to call Detective Steber to ask if he’d mentioned it to Eddie. Despite how awful it was to have had him in her house, that little nugget of information made it worth it.
Exhausted from the day, and shaken by Eddie’s visit, Kate forced her heavy body up the stairs and into bed. She closed her eyes, hoping for sleep, but the bloody images of the love of her life and their sweet boy had returned. Like a strobe, it flashed endlessly in her head as it had done so often since that terrible day. She tried to think of other things—things she should be doing, or happy memories. But whenever she had a moment where she thought she felt better, that horrifying vision returned. She could not make it go away and she knew she never would.
Kate rolled onto her side, her head falling deep into the pillow. She welcomed the evening’s darkness and let it envelope her. She wished she could stay there forever. Her life’s path had twisted in an unwanted, hellish direction. How could she pretend to carry on? For what? Her purpose had vanished with the flashes of two pulled triggers.
As she had many times before, Kate wondered what Marco and Renzo’s last thoughts were, what their terror must have felt like. She began to cry as the feeling of guilt returned. She should have saved them. She should have protected them. She wished she’d never met Eddie Bracchio, and she punished herself for pushing Marco to take that job. It was all her fault. They were dead because of her.
When the tears ran dry, she lay there, bedridden with grief, her body stiff and aching. She reached over to touch Marco’s pillow. The emptiness of the bed and the hollowness of the house stung her heart. She knew there was no one who could possibly understand the depths of her devastation. Numbness swirled and waved up her body from her toes to her eyes before she fell into a restless sleep.
The frigid air burned her lungs as panic caused her to gasp. She removed her gloves and reached for her son. Renzo’s neck and face were covered in dark wetness, blood pulsing out of his neck in thick waves.
“Renzo!”
The world went black. Then, light returned.
“Who did this to you, Renzo? Do you know? Who did this to you and daddy?”
“Se ‘eh,”
“What? Who?”
“Se eh-l, Se-hel.”
Kate’s eyes flew open, the dark room silent but for her loud gasp. She scrambled upright, holding her chest, reliving the dream.
Se’ eh-l. Se-hel. Se-hel.
Sal.
Sal.
Sal.
Kate screamed out into the empty bedroom.
“He said ‘Sal!’ Renzo said ‘Sal!’”
