Chapter 13: Take Me Apart: Chapter 13

The steady rumbling of Penelope’s purring was usually the most soothing thing in the world. Tonight it simply grated on my nerves, putting me even more on edge as I sat on my bed going through my father’s files. Penelope’s tail swished, knocking into a folder and scattering paper across the comforter.

“Okay, that’s it. I love you, but you have to go.” I scooped him up, and he laid his massive paws on my shoulder, kneading me through the jacket I still wore. “How about a treat and some music?”

I carried Penelope to the kitchen and took out a can of wet food. He wound around my ankles, meowing at me so loudly it made me laugh. I sat his bowl down and turned on the TV. Soft, quiet music played as I turned off the lights, leaving only the soft glow of the nightlights I’d installed in case Penelope ever got afraid of the dark.

Yeah, that was stupid as hell. My friends pointed that out to me plenty of times, assuring me he could see in the dark, but it still made me feel better to know the lights were there for him.

I gave him a few long, firm pets, and his purring grew. Smiling, I batted his tail back and forth until I knew I couldn’t procrastinate anymore. I stood up and sighed.

“Okay, no going back. I need to go through those files. Be good, Pen.”

He ignored me as he pigged out on his food. That rapidly growing ache was back in my chest. I rubbed at it, trying to erase the oncoming bout of loneliness that used to lead to another bender. Penelope was amazing; he kept me alive. But sometimes it felt like I was still missing something.

I settled back in on the bed and returned to searching the files. There was a lot more information than I thought. Small things; hangouts, known associates, history. Most of it was probably useless, but I was praying for a needle in a haystack.

My phone buzzed, and I snatched it up.

“Yo,” Chelsea said, her voice heavy. “Good to know you’re not dead. I might have checked your security cameras when you got home.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Are you okay?”

“No,” I said truthfully. “A line of coke never sounded so good in my life.”

“Don’t do it,” she said softly. “I know it’s hard when things go upside down, but you know where it’ll send you. Besides, you don’t want to lose your job and have to start all over. Should I come over?”

I smiled at Chelsea’s concern. We were old friends for a reason. She was one of the few people who knew all my dirty little secrets, and I knew hers. Whenever I was about to slip up, Chelsea was the first person I called to keep me sober.

“Tex?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you could—” My fingers slipped over the papers on my bed, and I paused. I sifted through them until I uncovered a familiar face. “Woah.”

“Woah what?” she asked. “Tex?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly. I searched the page.

Enzo’s former lover. My stomach twisted into a tight knot. If I kept going at this rate, I would develop an ulcer. Then I really would be just like my father. “I think I’m okay for tonight,” I told Chelsea. “I need to sleep if I’m going to figure this out tomorrow.”

“Figure out what?”

“Who the fuck I’m dealing with.”

I knocked on the door again, peeling green paint sticking to my knuckles. Rubbing my fist against my jeans, I froze when the door cracked open half an inch. An eye looked me up and down, and the smell of cigarette smoke wafted into my face.

“What?” a woman asked.

“Are you Abigail?”

“And who are you?”

I took out my badge. “Officer Caster. I wanted to ask you a few questions about your brother, Brycen Grennan.”

“Why? I’ve already answered every damn question I can think of. Unless you found him, what’s the point?”

I put on my best official-sounding voice tinged with authority and sympathy. “It’ll only take a few minutes. Please, ma’am.”

She sighed and shut the door. The sound of a chain sliding off echoed in the empty hallway before she stood before me. Abigail looked like Brycen. They had the same hair and eyes. Dark circles were beneath her eyes, and a cigarette dangled from her fingers.

“Come in.”

I followed her into the apartment. We sat down, and she tapped her cigarette against a heavy glass ashtray.

“I would offer you coffee, but I don’t want this to turn into a whole visit,” she said shortly. “Ask your questions and go.”

“Right,” I leaned back in the creaky, metal chair. “I was hoping you could tell me about Brycen. About what happened to him.”

“You don’t know?” she asked.

“I would like to hear it from someone who went through it.”

That and I didn’t exactly know. I’d done my research the night before and was able to find a few facts from the internet. However, I couldn’t waltz into the station and go researching things. Everything was monitored. If I was caught looking up stuff I had no business sticking my nose into, I would be fired and could even be looking at charges. No, it was better to do this on my own.

“Brycen is… was… my younger brother,” she said shortly. “He was doing great in life until he hooked up with that animal.”

“Animal?”

“Enzo Vitale,” she spat. “The whole family is filled with criminal thugs.” She laughed dryly. “I used to be afraid to talk about them, but I don’t care anymore. My brother might have been a lot of things, but he was good to me. To our family. Even if he drove us all insane.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Brycen liked to run off. He was wild, you know? Partying, drinking, falling into bed with the wrong kind of men. I always warned him it was going to get him killed…” She trailed off, a tear rolling down her cheek before she wiped it away with her arm.

“And it did.”

“Well, he’s presumed dead at this point,” she muttered. “According to the cops, he’s simply a missing person, but I know the truth. My brother is dead, and Enzo killed him.”

A shiver down my spine. “Why do you think that?”

“He used to send flowers here after it happened. There was never any card or anything, but I knew they were from him. Sometimes I would see him across the street, staring at the apartment. Or he would call and hang up without saying anything. He creeps me out,” she said. She took a long, slow drag off of her cigarette. “I don’t know what Brycen got mixed up in, but whatever it is got him killed.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

She shrugged. “What does sorry do? Men like the Vitales, they don’t care about anyone but themselves. Killing people is part of what they do. I just wish my asshole brother had listened to me when I said that to him,” she sniffled hard, her breathing a stutter. “Is that all?”

I reached across the table and laid a hand on hers. “Could I look at his room?”

Abigail laughed. “What more could you want from me?” she snapped. “You come in here dredging up history that’s over two years old, and now you want to search his room? Well, guess what? There’s nothing in it. I donated what I could, sold the rest, and anything that’s left is in storage. Now,” she yanked her hand away from mine as her chair scraped against the linoleum floor, “get out of my house. I’m done. Unless you’re telling me that the son of a bitch and his family are either in jail or dead, do not come back here.”

I nodded. “Thank you for your time.”

Abigail escorted me to the door without another word. As soon as the door closed, I glanced over my shoulder at it. I could feel her eyes on me through the peephole, so I kept walking.

I waited until I was back in my car before calling Chelsea. She picked up, her voice cautiously optimistic as she greeted me with her usual “yo.”

“I need you to do your thing,” I said. “Abigail Grennan. She has a storage unit somewhere, and I want to check it out. Can you find it for me?”

“Faster than you think,” she said. “We should meet up for dinner.”

“Not hungry,” I muttered, ignoring the growling in my stomach. “I need some time to think.”

“Tex, you don’t sound good,” she said, her voice strained. “Please, let’s meet up for dinner, and we can talk about whatever’s going on. Maybe I can help you figure it out.”

I loved Chelsea, but I wanted to be on my own for now. My mind couldn’t sift through the details if I had to talk to someone and put on a brave face, pretending I wasn’t scrambled and lost. And so far, I was very lost.

Brycen Grennan was presumed missing, but his sister thought he was dead. Was he? Or was he simply gone? Abigail said he liked to run away, to disappear. Two years was a long time to wander, but I would, too, if I had a mobster on my ass. Especially if it was after that photo was taken where Brycen looked as if he’d been beaten up pretty badly. Maybe he was smart enough to go and stay gone.

“Tex. I’m worried about you,” Chelsea said. “Whatever this is, you should drop it and move on.”

“Have you reviewed the hard drive yet?”

“No,” she muttered. “I’m trying, but a lot of it is in code. He was smart enough to encrypt damn near everything or have someone else do it.”

“How long do you think it’ll take you to get through it?”

“I’m not sure if I should.”

I paused and gripped the steering wheel. “What?”

“You’re getting obsessed,” she said evenly. “I don’t want to be part of the reason you spiral.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Just do it, Chelsea. Or give it back, and I’ll find someone who can do their fucking job.”

“Fine. Jerk.”

She hung up, and I stared at the screen. Great. On top of feeling sick, I felt like an asshole too. I thumped my head against the steering wheel.

I was so close to figuring out what was going on, but I needed more. Learning about Brycen was a pet project. I had no idea if I could pin it on Enzo. Or if it would be enough. I had to keep digging.

I was so close to making detective I could taste it. One big case, and I would be there. I rolled my shoulders, trying to ease the tension that made them tight. But it stayed there like a stone making my chest constrict and my skin feel tight.

I could be on the verge of getting everything I wanted. So, why did it feel so empty?