ears. Gagging, I turned away and came face-to-face with one last atrocity.
Her severed tongue nailed to the wall beside the door.
Devon hauled me back, out into the hallway. His arms squeezed the breath from me when he saw what was left of Tymara. My mind filled with blurred sounds, as if in a tunnel: Devon’s curses, voices of neighbors, Devon shouting at them to get back inside, call 911, and my heart roaring, howling that this could not be happening.
I’m not sure how much time passed before he released me. I slumped against the wall, sweat pouring from me, swallowing hard to keep from vomiting.
“I’ll kill the sons of bitches,” Devon muttered as he turned his back on the sight of Tymara’s body. His voice was hoarse, tight. Which made it all the more deadly. “They’re going to wish they’d never been born.”
“It’s my fault,” I whispered, gagging on my tears. “She didn’t want to testify. I talked her into it. Told her it was the right thing to do, that it would keep her safe.”
I slapped my palm against the wall, the sting burning through my shock, the violent motion pushing me upright.
“Did you see?” I asked him, although I knew the answer. “Did you see what those animals did to her?”
Devon had a good poker face, but he wasn’t using it now, not with me. The honesty of his rage burned in his eyes. “I saw.”
“They won’t get away with it,” I said, spacing my words, taking care with each one. “I’m not going to let them.”
“Leave them to me.” He leaned in close, so close his face blocked the rest of the world from my view. “Get Eugene Littleton off. I’ll get him to talk. No one comes into my Tower and does this to my people.”
Vigilante justice. Street justice. Surely Tymara deserved more. Hadn’t I promised her more?
“No. We do this my way. She came to the Advocacy Center for justice, and I’ll get it for her.” It wasn’t Devon I was making my vow to, not any unseen deity either. It was Tymara. “I promise.”
He opened his mouth, ready to argue, but the elevator doors chimed. He glanced down the hall, saw the shine of uniforms and badges, and frowned. Time wasted with the police was time better served hunting Tymara’s killers.
“You got this?”
I nodded, and he vanished down the hall.
Leaving me to wrestle with my conscience and what my good intentions had brought Tymara.
Chapter 6
IT DIDN’T TAKE long for the police to finish with me once the detectives arrived. The first officers had escorted me away from the crime scene to the empty manager’s office on the first floor. The room was small, windowless, overcrowded with men, and stifling.
Shivering with shock, I sat on a cheap office chair, unable to resist a compulsion to pick at a wad of foam that had escaped through a split in the vinyl arm. Anything to avoid thinking of Tymara.
It didn’t work.
At least eight uniformed and suited policemen asked me questions.
Did you touch anything?
Nothing but the doorknob.
Did you go inside the apartment?
No.
Is there anyone she was fearful of? Did she mention anything unusual?
And so it went. My answers emerged by rote, mechanical. My teeth chattered. Until, finally, it was my turn to ask a question: What time did she die?
I didn’t get an answer. Not that I needed one. The math was painfully obvious.
After I was dismissed, I pushed through the throng of curious onlookers, mainly kids off from school who crowded the Tower’s front stoop, squinting at the Medical Examiner’s van.
Once I was released from the confines of the Tower, my chills turned into a fever sweat.
Not sure where to go next, I stumbled back to the swings where Devon and I had sat earlier.
This time, I walked through the snow bank, inviting the wet chill that came with it. I shed my coat and held it in my lap. I felt queasy, sick. I’d seen my fair share of violence, but nothing like what I’d just witnessed.
No. That was wrong. I had seen
Learning to Kill: Stories