How to Kill a Man in Thirty Seconds

Chapter 77: Angel in Disguise

FOUR YEARS AGO, DECEMBER 25TH, 11: 02 PM, WRIGHTWOOD

The silence that followed the gunshot was one that would haunt Susan Green for the rest of her life.

For a moment, everything slowed down around her, like a broken movie reel playing at half its speed. She saw, but didn't really register. She heard, but could not listen. She was a mere bystander, watching something unfathomably horrific unfold before her eyes. Her chest felt tight.

She saw her husband's eyes widen as the bullet struck him, saw his gaze flicker downwards to the gaping hole in his chest and saw the horror and shock that haunted his brown eyes as his gaze returned to hers. That was right before he crumpled.

The fury instantly died in her. It was like the flame of a candle, one moment ablaze and roaring, casting a monstrous glow around it and the next, non-existent. Powerless. Suddenly, the pistol felt heavy in her hand, the metal chillingly cold.

She dropped it, as if it had shocked her.

When reality had fully registered in Susan and she had stumbled forward, the blood was already spilling from her husband's mouth, bursts of crimson slipping past his lips. A well of redness was painting his white shirt, spreading out from a ghastly wound that gaped like a dam burst open.

"No, no, no," she only realized she was pleading in unbridled terror, tears slipping from her eyes when she heard her own distressed voice. Her hands were trembling helplessly as she fumbled for her phone, her vision a blur of moisture as she struggled to dial for help.

Anthony's quivering hand on hers made her halt. His eyes were wide when his gaze met hers, mirroring her own.

Horror.

Shock.

Disbelief.

It's too late. The words burned in his eyes, and her heart squeezed frightfully in her chest. But his own brown orbs had softened.

"You were never here," his voice was feeble, and he choked on the blood that flooded his mouth as he forced the words out. His dying body screamed with agony with the effort, but the resolve in Anthony's eyes only strengthened, "You're innocent. You were never here."

Susan's heart sank deep in her chest as she realized the true intention behind his words. "No," her words were no more than a desperate sob and her head shook in horror, her chest squeezing until she struggled to drag in air. She forced her gloved hands over his gaping wound in desperation, struggling to slow the blood that gushed out. Her words were hysterical, "There's still time; we can save-."

She realized the falseness to her words even as she spoke them. Anthony spluttered helplessly, grief filling the browns of his eyes as more crimson slipped past her tense hands.

"The kids... need you... Call Morgan," his voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, "You were never here."

"No, no, no, Anthony. The kids need you. Charley needs you," Susan's head was spinning, her mind numb with shock; it was all happening too quickly, all catapulting out of control, and she couldn't process it, couldn't grasp it. She didn't know what to do; she couldn't think.

Her pink gloves were drenched in red and the sight of it filled Susan's heart with boundless horror. When her panicked eyes darted to his again, she knew that he had reached his end of the road.

"Charley needs you, Anthony. She needs you alive."

She saw some of the grief that burned in his eyes drain out at the words. It was as he realized that for the first time, the dreadful secret he had carried for so many years would be his saving grace. It would give him a sense of solace. She saw the traces of relief that flooded his eyes in that last second, the bittersweet joy that mingled with it.

Anthony's final words were all but a whisper.

"Charley doesn't need me anymore," he managed, "She has a father. She always will."

Susan didn't remember how exactly she confessed to Morgan over the phone. It all slipped out of her, punctuated by ragged sobs and desperate attempts to drag air into her lungs. She barely noticed when Morgan arrived in an evident state of distress, no less than an hour later; she had fallen into deep shock, and remained curled up as far from her husband's lifeless body as she could. Morgan would later recount that she was staring expressionlessly into nowhere, lost in a jumble of frightening thoughts that would give her nightmares for decades.

Susan barely saw the mixture of absolute horror, disbelief and anguish that flooded Morgan's face as he stared down at the mutilated body of his most trusted companion. It was a blur even as he hoisted Colton's feeble body up and helped him down a flight of stairs at the back, down to the abandoned dark alley below, where a vehicle would be awaiting.

She could barely see past the voices in her head when Morgan began scrubbing frantically at the floor, cleaning away the blood that caked it; she was rocking by the time he poured liquid over the dried remnants, sweeping it away with desperation. Time flew, yet dragged murderously slow.

When Morgan had met Anthony as a child twenty-five years before, a lively boy with a cheery smile, he had never envisioned their relationship would end with a bloody trail of blood and the nauseating odor of bleach filling his lungs. His head was a conundrum of maddening emotion. Emotion he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life.

But he knew what had to be done. This was beyond him or Susan. Morals and justice were irrelevant.

When it was finally time for them to leave, Susan found she didn't have the strength to stand; she knew there was no way that she could manage the guilt. It was devouring her.

"Please just kill me," the words were barely above a whisper.

Morgan's gaze flickered to hers, and she saw something unrecognizable pass over the blue eyes. He had never been good at displaying emotion; perhaps if he had, she thought, Anthony would have been saved from the dark and grim path he had pursued with her, that had led to this horrific ending.

Susan grabbed the pistol from where it lay by her, and her voice turned hysterical, reeking with desperation, "If I die, they'll think we were both murdered by the same man. And they'll never find out the truth. Morgan, please."

Morgan crouched down, extracting the pistol from the woman's trembling hands. He tucked it safely away and felt a mixture of overwhelming pity and grief as he watched her grey eyes fill with tears. He had loved her once, for a long time; perhaps a part of him still did. When Anthony had introduced him to Julia two days ago, and confessed his sins, Morgan had known it would destroy Susan; he had demanded that Anthony come clean.

It killed Morgan that this was what it had come to.

"Anthony is dead, Su," he found himself saying morosely, hand reaching out to squeeze hers, "It's too late to change that. If you die, or go to prison, that's the last the girls will see of you. They need you."

"But-."

"You think the foster care system will do Lily well? You think it'll give her all the care she needs? And Charley," Susan didn't miss the way his voice cracked at the name, "I don't know how long it'll take her to get over losing Anthony, if she ever does. Losing you at the same time, would kill her."

Susan watched helplessly as a glassy sheen fell over the big man's eyes. The beady blue orbs, so closely reminiscent to that of a viper's, suddenly didn't look so cold and unfeeling. It carried grief, the look of a man fighting against himself and his own morals to save someone he was desperate to protect above all else.

With this realization, Susan found herself rising to her feet, with a strength that was almost foreign to her. They cast one last painful glance at the lifeless body beside them, of the man they had both loved in their own way for most of their life.

When the door clicked silently shut behind them, darkness engulfed the room. All that remained, was Anthony Green's fetid corpse, empty eyes gaping open and skin now cold as ice.