CHAPTER 77

Palmer

“Even if I know something about him, why the fuck Will I tell you? It seems all you've had in mind from the start was getting information, nothing more.

You could be working for the FBI, or the CIA. You could be a fucking rat. Why the hell should I trust you

His countenance changed immediately,brass of sweat coated his forehead. He lit a cigarette and puffed out a good quantity of smoke after inhaling

Claire stood unbothered, her eyes were fixed on the ashtray on the table. Like she didn't care if he told her anything, like she really had nothing to lose

“Like I said before, he killed my sister. All I want is information. And if you're not willing to give it—

I'm going to walk out of here”

He pulled out a pistol from beneath the table, and before she could comprehend what was happening,the man had his gun pointed straight to her forehead

“What makes you think you have the guts to do that?”

“You sure didn't have a lot of guts after Palmer took away your pinky finger—”

He slammed the gun on the table. Claire could hear his strained breathing. And for a moment, it seemed like he was willing to compromise because of that single statement

And for some reason, he did

“What's your real name Kitty?”

“It's Claire”

He drew invisible circles on the table with his finger.

“You promise me, that if I tell you what you want to know, you'll walk out of here and you'll never come back?”

“Absolutely”

“Listen, if after you leave, I see the agents crawling up on my property —

I will find you, and I promise you I will. And you don't want to know what happens next”

“Yes sir”

Claire knew she was lucky, very lucky. He had no reason to give her information, he had no reason not to shoot her. For some reason, he chose to ignore the fact that she had been lying to him

He looked into her eyes for a second, then turned away, and placed the cigarette back into his mouth

I never knew what he was convicted for, nobody knew what he was convinced for. And for some reason, nobody dared to ask. He was the type of guy that had connections, you know—

He'd been cleaning up trash for rich people or something, had to go to prison for a time to rouse suspicion away from his boss.

He coughed, and the cigarette fell from his fingers.

Had that big old scar on his face, it scared people. I always wondered who gave him that scar. The man was a psychopath. Most of us had been convicted for crimes like murder, and arson.

“What were you convicted for?”

He paused, and he clasped his fingers together

“Rape”

Claire felt chills run the her spine

“Of who?”

Some little girl, my girlfriend's daughter. I was a sick freak back then—

*****************

Claire blinked away the tear that threatened to spill from her eyes

What happened with Palmer

Oh him? Like I said, he was a psycho. He got something out of killing people. It thrilled him

Claire could only begin to understand the irony she was faced with at that moment. And suddenly she didn't know who the psycho was anymore. Palmer was a killer, but he never touched little girls—

“He casually talked about his victims, when he was extremely happy. I lost count sometimes. But we all knew killing was in his veins. Even we weren't safe.”

Claire sobbed silently. Watching her abuser narrate the tale of another, and feel like he was the better person was painful

“Did he ever mention who he killed?”

The man thought hard

“Yes, sometimes he let a few names slip”

Do you remember any names?

How the fuck am I supposed to remember?

He coughed again. This time with blood. It was obvious he had some sort of kidney or liver disease. Karma did catch up with him after all

“He had this tune he used to hum. Occasionally he would fix in the names of his victims onto the song”

The man went along to sing the song, or at least try to. Midway he forgot most of the song, and Claire was losing focus.

Because she couldn't stand staying in the same room with him.

But something caught her attention—.

Wait, what did you just say?

“Miley Perkins, his next victi —”

“Before that”

“The Pavilochenki couple”

Claire was familiar with it, at least. She knew enough to know that they died in an accident. But if Palmer had them among his victims, then there was more to it

Also, Palmer worked for Rufus Pavilochenki, then he was aware. Infact he could've ordered it

If that was the case, then she had found what she was looking for.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I'm sure”

“Did he mention how he killed them?”

“He messed with their brakes or something, nothing fancy”

“Is that all you remember?”

“Yes”

Their eyes were fixed to each other, and for a moment, Claire felt like he remembered, like he knew she was the girl he abused. And the reason why he didn't kill her, or walk her out of his property was because he remembered who she was

“That's all I need to hear. If you don't mind I—

I'm ready to walk away now, and pretend we never had this conversation”

Her eyes were fixed to the gun on the table, just in case he tried to switch up and change his mind. But he didn't

“Close the door tight when you're out, it gets cold in there, and the door’s in bad shape”

“Yeah”

Claire felt the tears finally break free after leaving the house minutes later.

But she turned back, because she felt something

It was him, standing at the entrance of his house, with the cigarette in his mouth

She could've sworn she heard him call her name

But she heard it again, and she was sure

“Claire

“I'm sorry—”