Page 117 of Ruthless Touch

My finger hovers on the trigger. “Say what? Tell me!”

His smile is sad, resigned,almostrueful. “We both know it now, baby girl. That I killed your father. That I watched him bleed out and never called for help.”

His confessions are the words necessary to unlock the memory I’ve been hiding for over twenty years.

The life-defining moment I’ve buried so deep, I forget about it except for in my nightmares.

The present fractures, breaking apart for the past to reemerge.

The bang is so loud it makes my ears ring. I clap my hands over them, curled tight under Daddy’s big desk, knees pulled to my chest.

Everybody was so angry, screaming and shouting at each other.

I didn’t understand. I didn’t like it, so I hid under the desk with Gun. Then his daddy grabbed him and stormed out of the office.

…then… then there was the loud bang. Now there’s only silence…

“Daddy?” I whisper. “Daddy?”

I crawl out from under the desk, hands and knees on cold hardwood. It takes me a moment before I put two and two together.

Before I realize the body on the floor is really?—

“Daddy!” I cry out.

His eyes are open but not like they usually are. It’s like they’re empty, like he’s staring at nothing.

A shadow falls across me. I look up, tears streaming down my face, and see Uncle Jerald standing over us.

He’s holding something dark and heavy in his hand.

A gun.

He kneels beside me, his face eerily calm. “Stop crying, baby girl. We’ve got to go now.”

“But Daddy’s?—”

“Daddy’s gone,” he interrupts. He takes my small hand in his large one, pulling me to my feet. “He’s gone and he’s never coming back, baby girl. Come on. We need to leave before anyone else comes.”

I try to look back, but he won’t let me. Just keeps pulling, keeps walking, until the room with Daddy disappears behind us…

The world around me shifts, and I’m sitting down next to a handful of other people in black.

I’m in black too, some fancy dress Uncle Jerald told me I had to wear to pay my ‘last respects’.

There’s a huge casket in front of me where Daddy’s sleeping. That’s what Uncle Jerald said—that Daddy’s sleeping now, and I shouldn’t be scared.

But Iamscared. The casket is big and dark and scary, and I don’t want to look at it.

I just want Daddy to hurry and wake up again.

I look around instead. At the empty pews behind me. At Uncle Jerald sitting stiff and formal beside me. At the handful of people who showed up. Faces I don’t recognize, speaking in hushed voices about what a tragedy it all is.

And then, in the distance past a field of headstones, there’s a man standing by himself.

He’s tall. Korean. Dark suit, hands clasped in front of him, watching the service with an expression I can’t read. His face is serious and sad, and when our eyes meet, he gives a nod.

Uncle Jerald notices where I’m looking and follows my gaze. His jaw tightens. The Korean man turns and leaves without a word, disappearing among the headstones.