than the others, but they too read things such as, “ 8 years does not equal LIFE,” “Remember Holly,” and “Justice is NOT served.” Some new ones they’ve got especially for my current job read, “Don’t let a convicted killer into your house,” “Trauma-Gone hires MURDERERS,” and “Mr. Tanner has a taste for death, time to put him DOWN.” None of them are particularly clever, but previously they’ve been annoyingly effective in their efforts to disrupt my life.
I park just past the roll-up door for the warehouse and now they realize. The “boos” start when I exit my car. Harold comes anxiously to the front door at this, and gestures for me to come inside quickly, but I ignore him, striding right up to Mr. Kelly. “Get lost, Hank.”
“Never.” His eyes are flinty and gray and I can see the hate in them, but there is exhaustion in there too. The exhaustion is new. He’s a square, handsome ex-LAPD lieutenant who, way back when, probably played some football for an Ivy League school. He wants to hit me—violence has always been Hank’s inclination since I met him over a decade ago. He was an angry man in the courthouse then, and he still retains that scorched ball of raw fire burning through his retinas now. But he’s weakening, I note with a small dose of satisfaction. Clinging to that much anger for so long is taking its toll on the large man.
You’re going to die soon
, I think, matching stares with him.
That heart will give up on you, and I’ll still be here.
Such poisonous thoughts cannot often be contained, and I seldom try; Hank Kelly is my enemy. As much as I have ruined his life, he has striven to ruin what is left of mine.
“What are you going for this time?”
“Your employer seems to know what kind of person he’s hired, so we’re making sure his neighbors know what sort of company your employer keeps.”
I glance around for other signs of life in the complex, but so far, it seems to be just my protesters and me. “This isn’t like Home Depot, Hank.”
“It’s worse,” Julie Kelly chimes in, she wielding her sign, “Thou Shalt Not KILL,” like a staff. “You feed off of the misery of others.” I feel the skin on the back of my neck pop and tingle and I exhale slowly through my gritted teeth to calm down. The group is not bold and they seem to use Hank as a shield behind which they align themselves.
“What would you like me to do instead?”
“Die slowly in a jail cell,” Hank says, and the others chirp their approval.
“You accepted the plea deal,” I remind him coldly.
He puts his arm around Julie and pulls her close. “We regret it now. Every single day since you got out. We were assured you would die in there. My officers said they knew people.”
“I guess they knew the wrong people.” Actually, they’d been damn close to the right people, but I’m not about to give Hank the satisfaction.
“You don’t feel a darn bit of remorse for it, do you?”
There is nothing he can do to me legally at this point, so I decide to burn his ass. “Not even a little bit.”
I sincerely believe it will be the phrase to push him over the top, but he holds his composure, his fist gritted against his thigh. “You…monster,” he growls.
“I’ve got work to do.”
From inside the warehouse, where I load my work truck, I can hear outside they’ve started a chant of “We want justice.” Harold stands aloof, watching me from the doorway to the office.
“What should we do?” he finally asks.
“Not a damn thing. This isn’t like Home Depot, they can’t pressure me out, unless you cave and get rid of me.”
“I won’t do. You my number one employee.”
“Right now, I’m your only employee.”
“All more reason.”
“It might get worse.”
“We deal with it.”
“Thanks.”
“Now, hurry to crime scene. There is money to be make.”
When I hit the button for the large roll-up door, Hank and his little group move in front of it, attempting
I park just past the roll-up door for the warehouse and now they realize. The “boos” start when I exit my car. Harold comes anxiously to the front door at this, and gestures for me to come inside quickly, but I ignore him, striding right up to Mr. Kelly. “Get lost, Hank.”
“Never.” His eyes are flinty and gray and I can see the hate in them, but there is exhaustion in there too. The exhaustion is new. He’s a square, handsome ex-LAPD lieutenant who, way back when, probably played some football for an Ivy League school. He wants to hit me—violence has always been Hank’s inclination since I met him over a decade ago. He was an angry man in the courthouse then, and he still retains that scorched ball of raw fire burning through his retinas now. But he’s weakening, I note with a small dose of satisfaction. Clinging to that much anger for so long is taking its toll on the large man.
You’re going to die soon
, I think, matching stares with him.
That heart will give up on you, and I’ll still be here.
Such poisonous thoughts cannot often be contained, and I seldom try; Hank Kelly is my enemy. As much as I have ruined his life, he has striven to ruin what is left of mine.
“What are you going for this time?”
“Your employer seems to know what kind of person he’s hired, so we’re making sure his neighbors know what sort of company your employer keeps.”
I glance around for other signs of life in the complex, but so far, it seems to be just my protesters and me. “This isn’t like Home Depot, Hank.”
“It’s worse,” Julie Kelly chimes in, she wielding her sign, “Thou Shalt Not KILL,” like a staff. “You feed off of the misery of others.” I feel the skin on the back of my neck pop and tingle and I exhale slowly through my gritted teeth to calm down. The group is not bold and they seem to use Hank as a shield behind which they align themselves.
“What would you like me to do instead?”
“Die slowly in a jail cell,” Hank says, and the others chirp their approval.
“You accepted the plea deal,” I remind him coldly.
He puts his arm around Julie and pulls her close. “We regret it now. Every single day since you got out. We were assured you would die in there. My officers said they knew people.”
“I guess they knew the wrong people.” Actually, they’d been damn close to the right people, but I’m not about to give Hank the satisfaction.
“You don’t feel a darn bit of remorse for it, do you?”
There is nothing he can do to me legally at this point, so I decide to burn his ass. “Not even a little bit.”
I sincerely believe it will be the phrase to push him over the top, but he holds his composure, his fist gritted against his thigh. “You…monster,” he growls.
“I’ve got work to do.”
From inside the warehouse, where I load my work truck, I can hear outside they’ve started a chant of “We want justice.” Harold stands aloof, watching me from the doorway to the office.
“What should we do?” he finally asks.
“Not a damn thing. This isn’t like Home Depot, they can’t pressure me out, unless you cave and get rid of me.”
“I won’t do. You my number one employee.”
“Right now, I’m your only employee.”
“All more reason.”
“It might get worse.”
“We deal with it.”
“Thanks.”
“Now, hurry to crime scene. There is money to be make.”
When I hit the button for the large roll-up door, Hank and his little group move in front of it, attempting