Shane blinked at the sweat running into his dark eyes. His hands were shaking, making it impossible to keep a steady aim on the quaking man in front of him. His mind warred with his heart as he struggled to still the revolver. Jesus! he thought. I must look like a chihuaha, shaking like this! He bit down on his tongue and focused on the coppery taste filling his mouth. More blood spilled in his life. But, he promised himself, standing there in the damp evening grass of the man's front yard, this would be the last blood he'd let flow. His lips twitched for a moment. So maybe not the last. He brought his thoughts back to the man that was backing toward the dark gaping hole that was the house's doorway. Quickly he pulled back the hammer of the gun, both men jumping at the click. They knew it had been barely audible, but to the pair of men staring at each other across a darkened lawn, the sound was impossibly loud. His target stopped his attempt at escape and glanced nervously at a window on the second floor of the house. Shane was filled with disgust and he crossed the lawn in two strides, the gun in his hand connecting with the man's temple. Dark blood seeped from a cut as Shane crouched beside the now trembling man. His voice was low and deadly.
"You think I'd hurt your family? You think I'd kill your beautiful wife and children?" His eyes glinted when the man's face showed his surprise. "You didn't think I knew about your family? That you were just some random choice? For what? Burglary? Do I look like I need your scraps mister Jackson?"
David Jackson's head blurred as he shook it. Whatever it took to keep this man happy until he could run for the door and his family. The man suggested that he wasn't a random criminal intent on David's things. So who was he? He looked up at the man who was threatening his life. Not for the first time, his attacker's eyes weren't even on him. The man looked at a point somewhere above David's head but his eyes weren't even focused on that. He thought of sliding backwards but knew the man would focus on him before he made it there. He glanced at the silver gun glinting in the darkness. Even if he was faster than the gunman, he wasn't faster than the gun. He decided to try talking.
"If you don't want money then what do you want? Who are you?" He asked, his eyes meeting the man's when they turned back to him. After a second where he thought he'd be struck again, the man spoke. His voice was still quiet but the hard edge had eased, just a fraction.
Shane looked at the man quaking before him and felt sick to his stomach. He wondered how different things would be after David was gone. He wondered if he'd be able to sleep at night, eat food without tasting salt in every bite. He wondered if the fist clamping down on his lungs would loosen. Somehow he doubted it. That wouldn't stop him from doing it though. From the little voice in his head telling him the pain would ease. He decided loathsome though this little pathetic man was, he could at least know why Shane was killing him. Shane started and looked down at the gun in his hands. He had come here knowing what he was going to do, but somehow the actual word had never passed through his mind or slipped from his lips. What he was doing was irrevocable. He would forever be a murderer. He'd be in the same vile group of people as the man who'd brought these two strangers together tonight.
Shane's mind flashed to late last year, coming home from work to the savory aroma of pot roast in the oven and a set table. The only thing missing had been his wife Lola and their son Aidan. There were blocks in the living room, he tripped over them walking back toward the bedrooms. The lights burned in every room and then smell of dinner covered everything. He remembered his mouth watering at the idea of Lola's candied carrots, the sweet crunch that only she could manage. And then he remembered a smile creeping across his face at the idea of finding her asleep, slipping in behind her and distracting her for a few minutes before devouring her cooking. He'd found her, curled up like a dream under their blankets, and had grinned as he snuggled behind her. His hand slipped across her waist to embrace her and he felt her shirt soaked with sweat. His smile didn't falter as he hugged her to him. He kissed her cheek and whispered into her ear.
"Dinner's going to burn baby, you don't wanna waste all that yummy food do you?" When she didn't answer he chuckled and pulled her over onto her back. It was then he saw the empty void of her open eyes, the slack of her jaw. His stomach clenched and he pulled he hand from her. He prayed for the transluscent sheen of sweat, but was greeted by the dark stickiness of blood. His breath left him as he pulled back the blanket to find a pool of deep red. A strangled gasp escaped and he pulled her to him, clinging to her like a child. With a shock of terror he remembered, the child. Where was Aidan? He left his wife and ran down the hall, slamming into his son's room and tripping over his son's stuffed toys. He looked down into his son's empty crib and terror warred with hope. Maybe Aidan had been dropped off at Lola's sisters. He hadn't seen the highchair at the table had he? She must have wanted a night for the two of them. He eyes welled and he turned to find a phone and call the police. With a sickening lurch he realized he hadn't tripped over his son's toys. He bent to the tiny broken body and let loose the scream sitting in his throat since seeing Lola. He cradled his son as he walked down the hall to the phone in the kitchen.
He barely remembered the conversation with the operator, the blurred red and blue of the police cars as the screeched up to his house. The months between finding his family and the court case for the man that had done it was a blur. He had barely slept, eaten, breathed, worked. He finally pulled himself together for the trial. They were overwhelmed with evidence against a young man Lola had taught at a summer pottery course. They were positive that he was going to be found guilty. And then the defense attorney had found it. The loophole that ruined months of work. One stupid lab technician had slipped up and broken the chain of custody. And instead of rotting in hell the little rat that had stolen his life was free to go because of an idiot. The idiot quivering in the grass beside him. David was still owed an explanation though. It was just going to be brief.
Shane rocked forward and grabbed David, shoving him onto his back and pushing the barrel of the gun between his lips. Time to get this whole circus overwith. He made sure David's eyes were on his before he spoke.
"My name is Shane. Less than a year ago I was married, my wife and I had just had a perfect baby boy. I came home from work one night and found my perfect family dead. In a few hours my whole world was destroyed by one idiot kid. His name was Damien Lest. My wife tought him how to make pottery during that summer. They found his hair in my house, his skin under her nails, her things in his home. The defense was talking about trying to say she was having an affair. In the end though they didn't need to did they? You messed up. All I was told was chain of custody was broken. They aren't supposed to tell me who. But Lola's father was on the force. I have friends there and they let things slip. They told me the lab tech did it. And who is the lab tech? Thats right its you! So to cut this short I can't sleep for thinking of sucking every bit of life out of your sad little body. I want to breath again and I don't think I can do that if you're still around. Clear now right? Alright then! You know me, I know you, we both know why we're here. Time to wrap this up." He re-cocked the gun and laid his finger against the trigger. For a split second he saw his beautiful wife smiling at him before her joy faded.
"Don't do this Shane. This isn't you," she whispered. He knew it was secretly his own conscience begging him one more time to stop this insanity, but he liked pretending it was his beautiful wife trying to save his soul. It just saddened him that she was destined to fail.
"I have to baby. I'm sorry." The shot rang through the silence, sending a flock of birds from their carefully chosen roosts. Shane smiled a dark smile to himself. Somewhere in hell Satan himself was laughing at this idiot with a gun doing the devil's handiwork with a smile.