I don't take well to being disrespected, nor do I take well to being manipulated. I'm not one of his playthings. But if he wants to make this a game, I'll happily participate. I'll gladly show him how these things are played.
Brandy lives in an expensive high-rise in Manhattan, a penthouse suite, with a doorman and the highest security money can pay for. Ray foots the bill, of course. He pays for everything. It makes it nearly impossible to get to her. No way to slip in and out without being seen. I'm not much worried about being caught. I just don't want to be stopped.
I can't go to her, so she'll have to come to me.
Pressing the call button, I listen as it rings… and rings… and rings. I'm about to hang up and try again when the line clicks. "Karissa?"
"Brandy," I say calmly. "It's Ignazio Vitale."
"Oh, uh… Vitale. Hello. What can I, uh… what can I do for you?"
"Actually, I thought I could do something for you," I say. "I was cleaning out the house, you know, of all of this stuff… Karissa had a lot of things, things she won't need anymore, so I thought maybe you might like to comb through it, see if there's anything you want."
She hesitates. "I, uh… I don't know."
"Look, it's been a rough couple days. It's never easy finding out someone's ratting you out to the police. So I need to do this. I need to… make what happened worth it. I don't want any of this to go to waste."
"Okay." She still sounds hesitant, but it's not a denial, so I'll take it. "I guess I'll… I'll see you soon."
"Great."
I hang up, staring at the screen for a moment before setting it down on the desk. Reaching into the bottom desk drawer, I pull out a pair of black leather gloves and slip them on my hands.
Then I wait.
I wait a half hour, then forty-five minutes. An hour passes, and another, before I hear a car pull up in front of my house. I step outside, not at all surprised to find Kelvin behind the wheel, with Brandy climbing out of the passenger side.
Hands in my pockets, so not to alarm the man, I stroll toward the car, plastering a smile to my face. It unnerves him. I see it in his eyes.
"Go on inside," I tell Brandy. "Bedroom is upstairs to the right. I'm going to catch up with Kelvin."
Brandy heads right in. She wouldn't dare pass up an opportunity to snoop. No rat would.
I wait until she's gone before focusing on Kelvin.
"Go ahead home," I say. "I'll take her back later."
"But—"
"Leave," I tell him. "Brandy and I have some business to attend to, if you know what I mean."
"Oh, uh, sure," he says, nodding. "I get it."
He thinks he gets it, but he doesn't.
"And I'd appreciate your discretion," I say as he starts the car up. "I know Ray signs your paycheck, but I'm not one you want to cross. Got me?"
"Yeah, I got you," he grumbles, avoiding my eyes. "Have a good night, sir."
"Oh, I will," I say. "The best I've had in a while."
He speeds away, squealing tires, and I laugh to myself as I head inside. I shut the door behind me quietly, listening intently.
I hear the noise upstairs in the bedroom.
I creep up the stairs slowly, not making a sound as I head down the hall, pausing in the open doorway. I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest, and watch as Brandy digs through the closet.
My closet.
She shifts through my clothes before focusing on the top shelf, zeroing in on the metal shoebox-sized container. She grabs it, and I cringe as she pulls it down, nearly dropping it, the contents clanking. She sets it on the bed, trying to pull the top off.
Through the darkness, I see her make a face when she realizes it's locked. "Damn it," she grumbles. "Where's the key?"
She turns around and freezes when she spots me standing there. Her eyes widen in horror as she inhales sharply, holding the breath. She looks like she's about to piss herself.
"Wrong closet."
She exhales shakily. "I, uh… I just, I thought… I mean…"
She continues to stammer as I push away from the doorframe, pulling my hands from my pockets. She starts trembling when I come closer, her eyes fixating on the gloves I'm wearing.
"You know, Karissa once asked me what was in this box," I say. "I told her nothing. Not true, of course, because there's obviously something in there, but it wasn't exactly a lie. It's nothing she needed to worry about."
"I didn't know," Brandy says right away. "I was just looking, and I saw it, and I didn't know."
She has no excuse. We both know it.
She's just hoping I'll let it slide.
"Ask me what's in it," I say. "Go ahead… ask."