Frankie smiled. “That’s right. Slit that fucker’s throat one night when he came into my cell, with a knife a pal smuggled in for me. When the guards realised why he was in there at three in the morning, they covered it up. Didn’t want anyone to know what a sadistic hellhole they were running.”
“I’m sorry,” said Andrew. “I’m sorry for what my brother did to you. I’m glad you killed him.”
Frankie released his grip slightly. Then he laughed. “You know I actually believe you.”
“Good,” said Andrew, “because I mean it.”
Frankie nodded. “You know I can’t let you go, though, right? It’s too late not to follow this shit through to the end.”
“I know that,” Andrew replied. “You killed my wife. There’s no quitting now for either of us.”
Andrew reached for the can under his armpit and pulled it free. His index-finger gripped the release and pressed down hard. A pungent jet of liquid exploded from the can’s nozzle and hit Frankie in the eyes and nose. The excess vapour flew back and entered Andrew’s airways. Both of them fell to the floor in a choking, spluttering mess.
Andrew’s vision was like being under water; all blurs and wet squiggles. His whole face filled with a rising sensation of fire that worsened with every breath he allowed himself to take. While he couldn’t see the room clearly, the sound of Frankie cursing was as clear as day. This was it. It would all end now, one way or another.
Andrew placed his palms down on the floor and tried to get to his feet, but it was impossible. The dizziness, twinned with the uselessness of his knee, was too much to overcome. Andrew knew that his daughter was bed ridden and that Officer Dalton was injured too badly to help. The only person able-bodied enough to help was Davie.
But where the hell do that kid’s loyalties lie?
“Come on, man, get up,” Andrew heard Davie say to his brother. “We need to get out of here fast.”
“Okay,” said Frankie. “You’re right, little bro. You’re always right.”
Andrew sighed. Thank you, thank you, God. Finally this whole thing is over.
“But I need you to shoot them first,” said Frankie. “I can’t do it myself. I can’t fuckin’ see. Do you still have your gun?”
“No way,” said Davie. “I’m not shooting anybody.”
“Do. You. Still. Have. Your. Gun?”
“Yes,” said Davie. “I have it, but I’ not using it.”
“Then I’ll go down forever, is that what you want? But if you get rid of the witnesses then we can sort out some alibis and get through this as brothers. I’ll owe you, man – for life. Please, Davie. I need you to do this for me.”
There was silence in the room. Andrew lay on the floor, terrified and blind, waiting for the next turn of events in the hellish nightmare that had become his life.
“Okay,” said Davie. “I’ll do it. It’s time to put an end to all of this once and for all.”
“Thank you, brother. I love you. You know that, right?”
“I know, Frankie. I love you, too, and that’s the only reason I’m about to do this for you.”
There was more silence; interrupted only by what must have been Davie fumbling for a gun he had hidden in his clothing.
Davie cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about all this, Andrew. I truly wish none of this had ever happened to you.”
Andrew said nothing. He just closed his eyes, replacing the blurriness with full-blown darkness, and waited for the end. He tried not to hear his daughter screaming – he didn’t want that to be the last thing he thought about. So he thought of a time long ago – to the day that Bex’s was born and they had been a family full of hope and joy. Perhaps in the next life they would all be again.
He listened to the sound of the gun being cocked.
A pause.
A pause that seemed to go on forever.
Then an explosion of sound.
The smell of smoke.
Bex still screaming.
Andrew opened his eyes again. His vision had cleared a little due to closing them for a few moments, and though he could not make out the finer details, he could see that a body now adorned the floor in front of him.