Page 64 of His Obsession
The tears he wept didn’t faze me; I felt no sympathy towards him. Little Timmy listened to the wrong man and messed with the wrong people, and now he was paying for it. That was the price of living in the hidden world. Sometimes, you made off, and sometimes you get fucked. Not the kind where you got to watch your cum dribble, but where your blood ran, and people wouldn’t find your body.
“Shh, Tim. We get that now, but you shouldn’t have gotten involved. Now it’s just principle.”
I noticed the dried blood coating his hands, and my lip curled when I saw his fingers—his nails were missing; one partially broken nail was in the bed as if Tonk couldn’t pull it free. He had removed them methodically, one by one, that was for sure.
When Tim still repeated the same shit, he took a blowtorch to his fingertips. I didn’t like torture, but it was an effective means to an end.
I preferred brute force; pummeling the shit out of people was therapeutic.
“Please, Jimmy didn’t tell me anything. He just wanted me to drug her and get her out of the club,” he said, now coughing hysterically.
I think we punctured his lung. Blood sprayed from his split and swollen lips, splattering little red droplets all over his body—may be some internal bleeding.
“He also sent you to take her at the movies, Tim. Don’t act so innocent in it all. What did you think he was going to do with her after you took her? After you sedated her, dragged her into his car, and took off in yours?”
These were questions we had already gone over, but I felt the need to repeat them, wishing for a different answer.
“I’m sorry,” he said, wheezing. “I just needed the cash.”
I pulled out the pistol that was tucked in my pants and put it to my side. “If Liz dies, I’m going to butcher your parents and—” I stuck my thumb over my shoulder, suggesting Tonk, “—let him have at your sisters.” I put my gun to his chin. "You sure you don't know where she is?"
I gave Tim one more time to come clean. One more chance to tell me where my girl was. One more chance to save his family.
"Oh, God.Please. I'm telling the truth," he bellowed.
I pulled the trigger.
*Click*
My gun didn’t fire.
A shudder left his body as he shook uncontrollably, I’m sure his life flashed before his eyes, and now he’d get to see it again.
“Oops. I didn’t have one in the chamber.” I cocked the slide back, chambering a round.
"No-no-no—"
His words cut off as I fired the gun, splattering bits of brain and bone on the walls. My ears rang from the ear-piercing bang the gun produced. I slid my gun back into its holster and took out my silver flask withHoly Wateretched on the side. I spun the lid off and took a sip of whiskey, enjoying the burn as it went down.
“I was going to do that.”
Turning on my heel, Tonk sat at the door, cleaning his hunting knife off with a cloth.
I held my flask out as an offering, and Tonk scrunched his chin and shook his head.
I shrugged and took another sip. “I’m still working on Ralph, and I need help with the other two. Tim would not talk to you. He knew nothing,” I told him. “I wouldn’t have killed him if there was a chance he did.”
“Well, I already started with Jerry this morning. You can resume work on Ralph if you want,” Tonk said.
“Fine, but I’m not listening to that ludicrous music you have on.”
“George Strait isn’t ridiculous. You have no taste in music.” He held the knife up, checking it for any spots he missed.
“Did Jake find out where that car went that took off from outside the club?”
“No. He said it turned down into the old part of town, where there aren’t traffic cameras. He lost him there. I’m telling you; he knows this city like the back of his hand.”
Another dead end. Fuck.