As Marcus sits restrained to a chair in an abandoned warehouse, Guy reminds him of the incident in the past that brought them here…
STORY
“Fascinating” Marcus couldn’t hold back the sarcasm.
With sudden vehemence, Guy responded “She died because of you. The one person who believed in me; the one person who cared. Because of you.”
“No. She died because of you, because she refused to see you for what you were, what you are – a killer, a criminal. Scum.”
“The bullet that killed her was fired from a police-issued gun. Specifically the gun assigned to your partner, Eli.”
“It was an accident, there was poor visibility that night with all that rain.” Marcus could still see that relentless downpour, the ugly yellow of old streetlights, and the blurred figure in the rain standing in the distance. He didn’t want to think about this after all that time. He hadn’t had a single night of peaceful sleep in ten years, and now this psychopath wanted to rake up the past. He was a good man. He did good work, putting people like Guy away. Making the world safer. He felt indignation and irritation rising.
“You’re still going to stick to that story? Even though we’re alone here, and we both know the truth?”
“What truth?”
“What Eli told me when he and I had a very productive conversation last week.”
Marcus had walked up to where she was standing, with her raincoat wrapped around her, waiting for Guy.
“Don’t do this. Just tell me where he is.”
“I don’t know! I told you before. Why won’t you leave me alone?”
“How stupid do you think I am? You’re out here, in this weather, waiting for someone obviously.”
“No, I’m just on my way home.”
“This isn’t your way home. This is a good twenty minutes out of the way.”
“Marcus, just go. Please.” He wasn’t sure anymore when, why, or how the gun had come to be in his hand. He wasn’t even sure if she’d tried to grab it, and had been shot in the struggle, or if he’d fired point blank.
For the first time that evening he looked at Guy with weariness and resignation.
“So what revenge do you plan to exact?”
Guy stared at him intently. He placed Eli’s revolver on the table between them, untied Marcus’ hands and walked out. Marcus sat in the heavy hush that fell after the sound of a car driving away. He felt so tired, he couldn’t even get himself to leave. The weight of the truth anchoring him there like concrete, even when he heard the sirens of police cars and saw officers enter the warehouse.
*****
The truth and any kind of justice couldn’t take away his grief, Guy knew. But the agony of it had lessened, finally – finally. He felt he could breathe at long last, as he gently touched the pressed jasmine flowers in her copy of Tender Is the Night.
