Sixteen.
So all that shit that had been done to her, all that misery that was described in detail in that file of hers, that had been done when she'd been sixteen. A child.
She didn't want pity from me. It was proving a lot harder than I realized it would not to let any of it show on my face. "I'm glad you found your place."
"Me too," she agreed. "Even if half the people there wish my mom would run the place until she was old and senile rather than have to work for me."
"That's bullshit. They all like you."
"You can't possibly know that," she insisted, rolling her eyes.
"I do. I know you. So I know that."
"That was, wow," she said, a smile pulling at her lips. "That was cheesy."
"You love it."
"I don't hate it," she admitted.
"So, are we ordering food, or are you going to do this whole freakout routine on the bathroom too?"
"Well, you order food. I will clean the bathroom. Then we can talk about the plan."
"I'm pretty sure the plan is simple. Find him. Kill him. Make sure the body isn't linked back to us."
"Yes, well, details go with that."
"Details are boring. I'd rather watch movies and test out that hot tub."
"I still can't believe there's a private hot tub."
"Well, for eight grand a night, it better. Are you going to want to clean the hot tub too?" I asked, dreading the idea.
"They're full of chemicals that kill bacteria at high temperatures. It should be fine for you."
"Oh, come on. You want to go in too."
"I've never been in a hot tub," she admitted.
"It's like an outdoor bath with clothes on. Or no clothes on. Bather's choice."
"I didn't bring a bathing suit."
"You have three suitcases meant for families of four, and you didn't pack a bathing suit?"
"You have one bag and you did manage to pack one?"
"Nope. But pretty sure a bathing suit is just underwear with fancy material. So we both have it covered. Come on," I said when she didn't look swayed. "I think there might even be a TV in that outside cabinet. And some alcohol in the minibar."
"I don't really drink."
"You don't drink at all or just don't do it often?"
"I don't like feeling out of control." And I think that said a lot, didn't it?
"Well, you can have one. Or I can have one for you. You know you want to."
"Alright. Fine. But I have to get started on the bathroom," she told me, rushing off to do just that.
It was about an hour later that we were sitting at the real wood dining table in our ridiculous suite, eating room service, when I asked her something that I was sure we had both been pondering for a long while, but both refused to voice.
"What are we supposed to do tomorrow, angel?" I asked, watching as her gaze slipped up then down quickly.
"You know what is going to happen tomorrow. If you're having second thoughts, I'd like to know that now, so we can head back to Navesink Bank tonight."
"I'm not having second thoughts. I just need to know the logistics, babe," I told her, surprised I had to explain since she was all about the details normally. "What is his schedule? Does he live alone? Where is the best place for this to happen? What are we supposed to be doing with the body after? Am I going in alone?"
"He lives alone. But his shed is the best place. He keeps all his... illegal things there."
"What kind of illegal things?"
"Some of the evidence of the things he has done. The way I figure it, taking him out there means we can leave it. The cops aren't going to be looking too hard into his case. Besides, there won't be any evidence left behind. I think you know me well enough at this point to know I don't leave any details out of my plans. I was up all last night checking and double-checking."
"I wasn't doubting you, doll. I just want to be part of the plan. You know, since I am the one doing it."
"I'm going," she blurted out, pushing her salad around her plate, seeming to have no appetite. Maybe it said something about me that on the eve of a killing, I was able to eat like a bear. But I really didn't give a fuck.
"Okay," I agreed, nodding. "How are we sure he will go to the shed?"
"He seems to go there every night. Time varies, but he goes. And if he's in there, this can be done without anyone seeing us. There are lines of giant trees lining both sides of the property. No one should see anything. We'll be careful too, of course."
"Of course." No one could ever accuse me of being overly careful, but even I had to admit this was a situation that would require it. Even if no one would miss the bastard. Even if the law didn't put much effort into it. They would have to track us down if the neighbors caught us on film or got too good of descriptions. "You sure you're ready for this?"
"I don't know if I will ever be ready," she admitted. "But it has been weighing on my conscience since figuring out who he is. Knowing he is out there, doing things to other girls like he'd done to me. He likes girls," she added with emphasis that made her meaning clear. "Never women. Which is why I am assuming he never married. It needs to happen."
"Are you going to tell your family? Ferryn? Your therapist?"
"I honestly don't know," she admitted. "I mean Ferryn eventually. And probably my mom once things are, you know, done." Once all the men who'd dared to put their hands on her got sent right to hell where they belonged. "I can't tell my therapist for obvious reasons."
Right.
"But if this makes you spiral? Or if it starts to help you move forward?"
"I guess those are two different questions. If I spiral, I have a thousand reasons in my back pocket. If I start to make progress, I guess I can tell her I did the fire exercise she suggested."
"What? Like you write his name on a sheet of paper and burn it?" I scoffed.
"I know," she agreed, snorting a little. "She means the best. And I'm sure that probably is cathartic for some issues. But burning his name isn't going to assuage the guilt. It isn't going to wipe away the memories. It isn't going to make my body feel like it is mine again."
"Do you think doing this is going to do any of that?" I asked, an aching in my chest at her words.
"I don't know," she admitted, shrugging. "But I do know it needs to be done." She pushed her plate away, reaching for her coffee instead. "I know that sounds callous, but I guess my ideas on what is just punishment and what this country thinks is just punishment are very different. I don't think you can fix people like him. Like all those men I endured. I don't believe they belong in society. And I don't think sitting behind bars is good enough either. There are certain kinds of sick that can never be made well again. Death is the only cure, and the only way to truly protect the community at large."
"You don't need to convince me, babe. Even fucking cold-blooded killers have no fucking patience for pedos. They don't think being behind bars is good. And they don't like the idea of them ever getting out again either. So they take care of it. And the world is a better place because of it."