A Necessary Evil(62)
Dr. Patesh pulled a syringe out of his pocket, and Frankie wondered if he regularly carried powerful paralytic drugs around with him everywhere he went. Then he remembered the good doc was always on call for Frankie, so he likely kept a plethora of supplies and drugs in his car. He watched with extreme pleasure as Dr. Patesh held the syringe upright and squeezed it lightly, releasing the air bubbles. The obese doctor grunted as he leaned forward and rolled up Collin’s bloody sleeve with one hand. The needle went into his vein like a knife through butter, and Collin’s head rolled so he now stared at the ceiling.
“You’re going to pay for this,” Collin whispered.
Frankie leaned over Collin and looked down at him. “Really? And how is that? You’re not leaving behind anyone who could avenge your death.” Frankie chuckled softly. “That is, of course, unless some woman is at home, waiting to give birth to your son. Kind of like what happened when I killed your father.”
Fury played across Collin’s face, and it thrilled Frankie to see some emotion from him once again. He was getting to him. Good. He didn’t just want to end him. He wanted his final moments to be filled with rage and terror.
“No,” Frankie continued, “I don’t think you have any sons on the way. In fact, I doubt you could ever get a woman to be with you. Not voluntarily, anyway.”
Collin’s body jerked as if he wanted to lunge at Frankie. The veins bulged at his temples and his neck. “You’re going to hell for this.”
Suddenly, he went limp again and became very still. His eyes closed, and his head rolled to the side.
“That’s the drug taking effect,” Dr. Patesh said. “He can no longer control his muscles, but he can feel anything you do to him. He’s all yours.” The doctor held out his arm toward Collin and took a few steps backward.
Frankie reached into his pocket and pulled out the knife he had brought with him for this special occasion. He ran it along Collin’s cheek and across his throat, controlling the temptation to dig deep and kill him with one swift motion. But remembering all the misery this man and his father had brought him over the last forty years, first with Addie’s murder and then with Mollie’s kidnapping, helped him rein in his temper. Frankie wanted Collin to suffer, especially when he thought about all the horrible things he had not only planned to do to Mollie, but had done to six innocent young women before her.
He got a good grip on the knife’s handle and plunged it into Collin’s bullet wound. Collin’s eyes popped open wide and his body jerked in response. He began to convulse wildly. The table was shaking, and Frankie thought it might break any second.
“What’s happening?” Frankie shouted at Dr. Patesh.
“I-I don’t know,” the large man responded. “P-perhaps the pain you just inflicted was too much for his system and he’s going into shock. Or perhaps…”
“Perhaps what?” Frankie was in full-on panic mode now. The thrashing of Collin’s body against the table was disturbing, to say the least.
“Perhaps I gave him too much Sux.”
“Oh, that’s just great, Nareej.”
“I said perhaps. I’m not sure.”
Just as Frankie looked back at Collin, his body stopped jerking. His head rolled to the side again, and his eyes were fixed and staring toward the left. Dr. Patesh waddled over to him and felt for a pulse in his inner wrist and then in his throat. He turned and looked at Frankie and shook his head.
“I’m sorry, boss. But he’s dead.”
The doors to the barn slammed open, and Frankie turned to see Kurt standing in the entryway with his gun pointed right at him.
“Stop right now, Frankie!”
“What the hell are you doing here, Kurt?” Frankie asked with his hands instinctively held up at his shoulders. The knife he’d been holding dropped to the dirt floor.
“Step away from him, Frankie. Right now. Slowly.”
Frankie didn’t move a muscle. “This doesn’t concern you, Kurt. Just turn around and walk away. I’m not going to let you take me in, so this isn’t going to go as smoothly as you’d like.”
“I said step away from him. I’m not letting you do this. Not again.” Frankie could see Kurt’s thumb move to disengage the safety and his index finger resting lightly on the trigger. Something told him that despite the fact they were once blood brothers, Kurt would pull it without hesitation.
Kurt stepped closer but kept his gun held out in front of him. Frankie matched his steps until they were standing close enough for Kurt’s gun to nearly touch Frankie’s chest. The two men stared hard at each other for several long, uncomfortable seconds. It was a standoff, like in the old John Wayne movies he enjoyed so much. Frankie knew from experience that whoever spoke first was usually the one to lose, or at least capitulate. It sure as hell wasn’t going to be him.
The painful silence dragged on for another few seconds as Frankie recalled the last time he’d really talked to his former best friend. They’d run into each other at a bar downtown, and though it was an icy reunion at first, the whiskey had thawed Kurt enough to let him hang loose and enjoy himself. Frankie had truly enjoyed their time together. To this day, he regretted that he’d used his last few moments with his buddy to basically coerce him into silence. But regardless of the soft spot he had for Kurt, Frankie wasn’t about to let him bring him in so he could spend the rest of his days in an eight by ten cell. No, he would not be the one to back down.