What is the point in having money and power if I can’t enjoy it?
Since all of my best efforts haven’t done a thing to improve my mood, I give in and get in the car, start driving without a thought to where I’m going.
I find myself outside Brenda’s house.
The unintentional stakeout spans the rest of the day, well into the evening hours, with me ignoring a message from Tony. I can check it later. I haven’t eaten all day. Can’t remember the last time I slept.
I’m in a fragile state of mind that needs to be remedied, fast. If I’m not sticking to his routine—a heavily structured routine for good reason—I risk making a critical error that could bring down my entire operation.
What is holding me back? I promised myself that this was my last job before retirement, and I ended up being the one to cancel it. By all rights, I should be packing my bags and closing up shop, on my way to the airport to start the first and last leg of my journey.
But here I am, pining away for a reason I’m not willing to put thought to.
I don’t have weaknesses anymore unless one counts being a perfectionist when it comes to the job.
Is it the need to kill? To carry out one last hand of justice before I can move on? It’s possible I let myself down, and it’s eating at me.
Yes, I decide, that is exactly my problem. I need to see this through, or it will hound me until my dying day. I will never enjoy retirement knowing I’ve left loose ends.
So where does that leave me? Should I contact Brenda and let her know that I’m back on the job? No. That would go against my policy of contact once at onset of the contract and last when it is carried out.
Brenda may not know that I’ve decided to retake her case, but it isn’t as if she is going to rush out and hire another hitman. It isn’t as if people like me are a dime a dozen. You can’t go to the hardware store and pick one up from the shelf. Like a drug kingpin, I’m unique to the area. There is no room for more like me. Once I leave, someone will undoubtedly fill the gap I leave behind, but until that day comes, I’m it—her only option.
Of course, she could take matters into her own hands and off her husband herself, but Brenda doesn’t strike me as the killing type. Maybe in a desperate moment, but I don’t foresee any scenario that would lead to that outcome either.
She needs me. I need this case. The plan is back on.
Glenn is going to die.
Fourteen
~Faith~
Packing for a murder is hard. I’m not sure how to prepare for such a thing. Does one need extra clean underwear and socks? Should I take my good blouse, the one I wear for celebrations?
As I touch the soft, red silk fabric, I toss the thought away.
I have to be practical. Murder is a dirty job, and I have to get every detail right. We’re going to a cabin. The scenery is rustic, which requires jeans, maybe some shorts or capris, a couple of cute shirts, and the fanciest I can get would be a pair of navy-blue canvas tennis shoes I purchased to match most of my outfits.
This isn’t a celebration. It’s a getaway for a loving couple who are working on their marriage and looking to reconnect, I coach myself.
No matter how many times I run the mantra through my mind, I can’t fully grasp it, but it is a lie I have to force myself to believe or else no one else will. And I need everyone to believe me to be the grieving widow. I flat out refuse to spend the rest of my days behind bars, and I want every dime of that life insurance policy. Call me greedy, but I’ve earned it, and I’m not going to rest until I get everything I deserve.
The front door opens downstairs, and I feel a genuine smile slide into place. The last time I was actually happy Glenn was home was years ago, and, ironically, it had been the same day I had decided that I was going to get him out of my life, though I didn’t quite know how at the time.
“Honey, I’m home!” The jingle of his keys as Glenn tosses them on the table followed by the clomp of his footsteps as he climbs the stairs reaches my ears.
For once, I don’t feel the need to put on a show.
Glenn is all smiles as he enters our marital bedroom and approaches, swinging me into his arms and straight into a kiss that is filled with passion and excitement.
Of course, he is as happy today as I am. We’re just hours away from a truly life-changing weekend, and as repulsive as I usually find my husband, I don’t feel the usual urge to push him away.
“When do we hit the road?” I ask.
Glenn steps away and starts stripping out of his sweaty work clothes. “As soon as we’re packed and ready to go. I can’t wait to get there.”
“Me either. It’s going to be an amazing weekend.”