A Crooked Waitress

Chapter 52

The phone chimed once. Eric opened his eyes and picked it up. "Same time, same place. Today."

It was a message from Christina.

He had fallen asleep on the couch and stretched his body to relieve his stiff muscles.

So she had assumed that he didn't know what had happened and now wanted to get her brother back and shoot Eric in the process.

Good. Step in your grave with your own feet.

A mirthless smile tugged at his lips. "Okay. Don't disappoint again." He typed and pressed send.

She didn't ask to talk to Toby. Maybe she's afraid that I ask the same for Jimmy.

Picking up the remote, he wanted to turn off the TV but saw his picture next to Christina's on the screen. He upped the volume.

"Eric Acevedo, father of James Acevedo, an ex-convict, and Christina Blake are persons of interest in the abduction and tragic death of James Acevedo..."

A police officer standing in front of a precinct rambled on. Then the camera turned, and Leticia came into the view.

"Oh! Mother of the year is here!" He pointed at the TV and looked around as if he was showing her to an invisible audience.

"I ask anyone who has any information about my ex-husband or Christina Blake to contact the police. I beg you. Don't do it for me. Do it for my son; a little boy who didn't have to die. He had all his life in front of him, but now it's ended. And that's my husband and that woman's fault. Let him have some justice. Please." She broke into tears.

"My fault? My fault? You went gallivanting in Seattle to chase your dreams. Which I'm sure you failed. You left your son! And what do you know? She's crying. Ooh yeah, she's crying! Didn't I tell you don't leave him here? Give me a few days? Did I or didn't I?" He shouted at his ex-wife, his chest heaving. Then he drew his Glock- still equipped with a silencer - and fired at the TV.

The screen exploded. A few electric sparkles flew around, gray smoke rose from the wreck and the smell of burnt plastic filled the room.

"If you hadn't dropped him on my doorstep... to go follow your dreams... he was still alive... he was in school... or playing his video games... but now... now I have to live with this guilt... for the rest of my life." He chastised the smoking lump of plastic and glass. And tears ran down his cheeks.

When he calmed down, after a few minutes, made some coffee in the kitchen and drank a cup in silence. He then picked up his gun and walked down the stairs into the basement.

Toby was sitting on the chair and the rope kept him in place. His eyes had bulged out, and he looked thin. His gaze turned from his captor's face to his pistol.

"Do you know what your sister's done?" Eric pulled out a chair and sat in front of him.

"What?" His head had tilted to the right. When he fell asleep, his neck slid to a side and now it was too stiff to straighten it up.

"She's killed my son."

"Why would she kill your son?"

"She hasn't exactly killed him. She failed to keep him alive. Jimmy probably fled, and a truck ran him over."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Sorry won't save you."

Toby shrugged. "I know, but I'm sorry anyway. He didn't deserve to die like that."

Eric leaned forward. "No, he didn't. If you hadn't stolen my property, you and your sister, none of this would have happened. You're as guilty as she is. And you pay for it."

He raised his gun.

"It wasn't your property." The young man looked into the muzzle, and there was no fear in his eyes. "And if you hadn't left your son alone, he would be alive. He paid the price for your doing."

Then sat as straight as he could and stared back at Eric. He looked indifferent to his death, and Eric believed him.

Must be all the good times in the basement! He wants it to be over.

He raised the gun and slammed its barrel into Toby's temple, knocking him unconscious.

"I'll deal with you but not yet. I'm gonna enjoy watching you suffer." He said to the knocked-out man and left the basement.