The Bottom of the Sea

Part 29: Shane Pt 2

Halifax changed since the last time I was there. My plan was to rent a room in a fleabag motel on Gottingen Street. It used to be gritty and crime-ridden, a place you wouldn't walk at night unless you were ready to bust open some heads. It was in the heart of the city and had a lot of character. Someone with bad intent could blend in, unnoticed. Now, it was full of new condos, hipster coffee shops and artisanal bakeries. Bull-fucking-shit. Nothing good in life ever stays that way, and that's just the way it is.

Instead I was at a different fleabag motel out on the Bedford Highway in the suburbs, making it much more difficult to trail the subject. Difficult, but not impossible. I looked through the compact binoculars with my one good eye and cursed that dirty bitch and her pretty boy for the hundredth time. I blinked, the ruined eye stinging like a motherfucker. I took the bottle out of my pocket and shook out three pills — the trinity cocktail. Xanax, Soma and Oxycontin. It was the only thing keeping me going — that and 100 per cent pure fucking rage.

Part of me admired her for it. Golf claps for her, she won the first round. Before I killed her, I'd find out how she did it. She was smarter than I gave her credit for, braver too. Before, I was going to make it quick — snap her neck, maybe. Now, I was going to take my sweet time. But she'd tell me first. How in the ever-living fuck did she manage to get the jump on me?

You won the battle, bitch. But I'll win the war.

I chased the pills with a good swallow of Jack, enjoying the burn in the back of my throat while I waited for them to kick in. The left eye was weeping again. I lifted the eye patch a bit and took a look. There was a slice through both the eyelids and the skin around the cut was swollen and purple. Digger said it was probably a scratched cornea and I was damned lucky I didn't lose the eye. I didn't feel too lucky with the fucking thing running all the time and feeling like a bucket of sand was in it. Digger patched me up as best he could, but I couldn't risk going to a doctor, not yet. I'd finished what I started, then get it checked out when I was back in Calgary.

I looked through the binoculars again, but no sign of Pretty Boy just yet. He'd be there soon — I bugged his car and planted a GPS on it, so I knew everything he was up to. Luckily, I was a patient man. And for this, I had all the time in the world.

My phone rang and I punched the button. "Speak."

"Want some company?" It was Digger.

"No, I sure as hell don't need backup with Mr. GQ. Did you get the things I asked?"

"Done."

"Put everything in a duffel bag and meet me there tonight — give me time to finish up and then you're on deck for cleanup. Just like we talked about."

"I don't feel good about this one, Boss. Not good at all."

"What did you say?" The rage in my belly felt like a coiled snake, and it began to stir.

"You saw what happened in that house—"

"Nothing fucking happened except I got very unlucky. But I'm about to tip the scales back in my favour. Don't tell me you're spooked, you big fucking pussy."

"I got a bad vibe from that house and I don't like this whole thing. You scared her at the fair, let's leave it at that. Besides, pussies aren't weak — a pussy can take a pounding." He laughed at himself.

I couldn't believe my ears. "Have you lost your fucking mind. What is this shit? I've seen you do this thing before."

"Not this time. Nope." I didn't want to say too much on the phone, but I knew he didn't want to hurt a pregnant woman. Mr. Chivalry. I put the phone down for a minute and shook my head. It was like dealing with a two-year-old. Calm, I told myself. Stay calm.

"OK, Hero. Go back to Calgary. But before you do maybe think about what I got on you back home. All I have to do is turn it over to my brothers in blue, and you'll be going away for a long, long time. Who says chivalry is dead?" It was my turn to laugh at my own joke.

"Quid pro quo. I go, you go." His voice had turned menacing and I wavered. But only for a second. I had one more card up my sleeve.

"Anything happens to me; your brother gets it. You know about my friends in Millhaven. All I have to do is make the call." I heard his breath quicken — I might have pushed it too far. If he was in front of me, I'm sure I'd be a dead man by now. But I I'd do anything to wrap my hands around Sara's neck and choke the life out of her, and nothing was going to take me off mission. I didn't give a fuck what happened to me after that. "Are we good?"

After a pause, he said "good as gold" through gritted teeth and hung up. I let out a breath. Digger had some fucked up superstitions, but when he said he'd do something, he'd follow through.

I should have done this alone. It was hard to get decent help these days. What did I care that she was pregnant? It was more evidence of her betrayal, in fact that little tidbit of information I discovered sealed her death warrant in my mind. Choose the behaviour, choose the consequences — just like that TV psychologist says.

Then again, I didn't think I'd need help the night I nearly lost an eye, and look what happened. I still couldn't believe I got played.

I let myself into her house that night and disabled the alarm. I thought she was home at first, I could hear someone shuffling around on the second floor. I drew my Glock and crept up the stairs. Everything was quiet. There was light coming from the landing, but not much. I was walking carefully so I don't know how it happened, but it felt like I was pushed. I missed a step and went down face first, banging my elbow and my chin against the step so hard my teeth clacked, and I tasted blood from biting my tongue. Furious, I scrambled up and charged the stairs ready to blow her fucking brains out, but no one was there.

I stood on the landing outside her bedroom door for a minute hearing nothing but my own gasps. I did a sweep of the third and second floors. No one was there.

Satisfied, I crept into her bedroom and searched it. I found a butcher knife hidden between the mattress and box spring; cute. She knew I was coming and thought she was ready. I almost felt sorry for her then, as if she stood a chance. I put it in my backpack and then went to the window and unlatched the lock. I could climb up there pretty easily from the roof of the porch, and this would make it easier to get in undetected. I knew her neighbour was out of town and other than that, there was no one around for miles. When I finally got her alone, what fun we would have.

That should have been it. I had turned to go when I heard it. Subtle at first, a quick tap on the window. I turned and looked for any tree branches that might have done it, but there wasn't a breath of wind outside. I heard it again; this time three loud bangs, enough to rattle the window frame. What the fuck was it?

"Sara? Come out now, and everything will be fine. I don't want to hurt you, I just want to talk," I lied.

The tapping continued and this time it didn't stop. It was coming from the stained-glass window. Must have been some kids fucking around on the lawn, throwing rocks. I got up close and squinted, trying to see. Everything went death quiet. That's when it shattered in my face.

Goddamned whore. I'd find out by the end of it all how she did it and so help me, she'd pay.

I blinked and shook my head to break the memory and focus on the task at hand. I saw him walking quickly up the street, hard to miss dressed in his fucking designer suit and expensive sunglasses. I pulled my hat low over my eyes and got out of the rental, going around to the trunk. I checked the bag, the crowbar was there, and the bat. I'd wait for him to come out, drag him into the alley and then I was going to enjoy myself.

I chose the crowbar, tucked it into the sleeve of my jacket and slammed the trunk. Pretty Boy wasn't going to be so pretty anymore.