Blood On Her Hands

Chapter 24

Fireflies were floating through my front lawn when I walked Vincent out. Their little bulbs were like stars against the utter darkness of the night. The second my eyes began to adjust, the porch light blinked on. It washed out Vincent's skin and made us appear ghostly. The two of us descended the front steps, the creaking of the wood filling in for the absence of words. 

"Thank you for having me," Vincent said. We paused at the bottom of the steps and I could barely make out the house across the street. I wondered if my hired protection was watching us from somewhere or if someone meant to kill me was hiding under the cloak of a shadow. 

"Thanks for coming." 

Both of us sounded equally as halfhearted. I knew I did because I wasn't fully present. There was so much going on in my mind that Vincent felt worlds away. Everything physical felt worlds away. It was like I was floating above my body, wondering how everything ended up the way it did and how to fix it. 

I glanced up at Vincent to see him experiencing something similar. His mouth was open like he wanted to say something and his eyebrows were pulled tight together. He closed his mouth, looked back to the house and back at me again. He shifted his weight to his other leg, tucking his hands into his pockets with a groan of frustration. 

"This made things different . . . being here, I mean." He sighed, rubbing his palm on his forehead. “Your family seems nice. I hope you know that even though I am committing to finding out the truth and responding to it accordingly, I do hope that your family is innocent of any involvement in the drug trafficking. I really do.” 

The two of us were on the same page about that. Though I loved my family, if they were truly up to something criminal, I wanted to know. I couldn’t cover for them - not when it could put us all in even more danger. If worse came to worse, I could at least have some peace that whoever the other drug traffickers were, they couldn't hurt my family if they were behind bars. 

“That’s reassuring to hear,” I said and I meant it. It was good to know that he wasn’t going to handle this case sloppily just to get it solved and move on. As long as the truth came out, I would find a way to be fine. 

A strong breeze blew by, giving me goosebumps. I tugged down on my long sleeve to hide my hands from the chill. 

“As I said yesterday, there are some things I wanted to ask you about.” 

Both of our heads whipped back to the house as a loud shout erupted from inside. It ripped through the stillness of the night. For a second, the both of us remained silent, our bodies tensed and ears listening. Then the shout was followed by laughing and more shouting. My shoulders dropped from my ears at the same time as Vincent breathed out a sigh. It was Darren being a clown for everyone in the house. I recognized his cackle anywhere. 

“What is it?” I asked, refocusing on him. 

“Were you with Darren when his coworker Ross Centino passed away?” 

Ross Centino. 

It took some thinking for me to put a face to the name. Then, once it did, I remembered exactly who he was. 

Ross was a tall, wiry man in his late thirties who often walked with a hunched back. He was freckled and ginger, with a slowly fading Scottish accent. He brought lunch from home everyday, packed in those square containers complete with reusable utensils. They were often noodle dishes that made the break room smell like beef for hours after. 

He came across as soft spoken from posture alone but I had been shocked to find that once Ross knew a person’s name, they became his best friend. When I worked at the office and when I visited post quitting, Ross would be the first to greet me. He was great at conversations. He knew how to figure out what a person’s interests were and took the time to learn a little about it just to have something to talk to people about.