While Jordy led Barbara away from the gruesome scene to wait for the police, Kazimir spent a moment alone with Hank. He was gone, consumed by the darkness of death's embrace. All Kazimir had left of him were his memories.

New Syracuse wasn't filled with many cordial people, so making friends had been difficult for Kazimir, but Hank treated him like they'd known each other for years. Four days ago, Hank had saved up enough to take Kazimir out to his first concert for a band they loved. He'd always cherish that day, especially the roadtrip. They'd never see another concert together again.

Guilt pricked at Kazimir's heart as the blood trickled down Hank's neck. Had they not came to the art gallery, maybe Hank would still be alive. A knot in Kazimir's stomach tightened, but he couldn't look away from his friend. Hank couldn't be dead. Seeing him slumped over on the bench should've been convincing enough, but Kazimir didn't want to believe it.

Kazimir knew he had to stay strong, if not for himself, for Hank. Who would do something so heinous? Could a gang member be responsible? Memories of Mr. Lamphere’s death came to mind. Hank didn't have any reason to have enemies, let alone have someone who would want to kill him. Kazimir didn't want to disturb his body, but he needed to know who had been calling him. Behind him, Barbara sobbed in Jordy's arms. The poor woman just lost the love of her life.

Crouching down, Kazimir carefully searched Hank's pockets for his cell phone. He couldn't find it. Whoever sliced Hank's neck must have taken it with them. That only made Kazimir more curious about the calls and what else might have been on that phone. He wanted to search more, but he knew it would look suspicious if he stayed near Hank's body. He needed to move away before the cops arrived.

As he walked away, he couldn't help but look back at his neighbor. A tear trickled down his cheek. Kazimir started to wonder if he was cursed because everyone he cared about ended up dead. He pulled his coat tighter around his body. He couldn't get Hank's soulless expression out of his mind. It reminded him too much of his own father.

"You okay?" Jordy asked.

Kazimir shook his head then wiped his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. "I couldn't find his phone. Remember how someone kept calling him? Maybe that's who did this."

"Yeah, you might be right." Jordy dabbed under his eyes with the collar of his shirt, jaw tightening. "Looks like his killer was smart enough to take it with them too. Who could've done this? You think it was one of those gang members?"

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Kazimir removed his glasses to wipe his tears. "I don't know."

Sniffling and whimpering, Barbara pulled away from Jordy, who tried to console her. Bright blue and red lights swallowed up the park, followed by a couple of officers with flashlights. Barbara hurried over to them, frantically gesturing to where her dead husband was on the bench.

Kazimir faded into the background like a shadow when nosy people and police gathered around like vultures. They moved Barbara into the back of an ambulance to try and console her, but not even the blanket they gave her stopped her shivering. While she spoke with one of the cops, Jordy called their son to gently explain what had happened. Kazimir stayed near the front of the ambulance away from them but close enough to know what was happening.

With shaky hands, Kazimir reached down into his pocket for his Bic lighter and a cigarette. He exhaled a heavy breath, hoping to calm his nerves. A red-headed cop made eye-contact with him as he smoked. Gripping his lighter tightly, he tried to calm his pounding heart. He didn't want the police to get suspicious of him.

The cops secured procedural crime scene tape around the area along with a white tent to keep inquisitive citizens out. Deputies in blue scattered about like little beetles, and a crime-scene tech went to examine Hank's body. Police made Kazimir squeamish for many reasons. Drug addicts didn't have a good rep with them.

Moving away from the ambulance, Kazimir caught the red-headed cop in his peripheral vision. He'd gotten closer. To test his theory of being watched, Kazimir made his way down to one of the trees. Just as he expected, that red-headed cop followed him.

"Hello, I'm sorry to bother you." The lanky, ginger cop approached him. "You're Kazimir Vass... Vassa..."

"Vassiliev," Kazimir corrected him, readjusting his glasses. People pronounced his Russian surname wrong all the time. "What do you want to know?"

"I just have some procedural questions to ask you. I'm sorry about your loss tonight. Was the victim a close friend of yours?" From the flickering bright lights, Kazimir made out the nametag on his uniform. C. Bailey.

"Hank's my neighbor," Kazimir replied. "Or, was my neighbor."

Detective Bailey retrieved a small notepad from his pocket and a pen. He scribbled something down.

"What happened here tonight?" he asked. "Just talk me through the events leading up to finding your neighbor."

Kazimir relayed everything that unfolded before they discovered Hank. He got teary-eyed while talking about his murdered neighbor.

"And, did you or anyone else touch his body before we arrived?" Detective Bailey asked.

"I did," Kazimir admitted. "I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do. I checked for a pulse and for his cell phone. Someone kept calling him all night. We thought maybe that person had something to do with this."

Detective Bailey frowned. "Do you have his cell phone?"

"No, I couldn't find it on him. I think his killer might've took it."

"I see. Interesting. Okay, thank you, Kazimir. You've been a big help. Another officer will be over here shortly to ask you some follow-up questions and maybe even repeat the ones I did," Detective Bailey replied. "Again, all standard procedure. If you need anything, come get me. I'll just be over there." He pointed near the fountain.

Kazimir didn't have faith in the New Syracuse Police Department to find Hank's killer. Murderers walked away as free men and cases went cold all the time. The police stowed their files away, only to possibly be reopened some twenty-odd years later. If Kazimir wanted justice for Hank, he'd have to investigate matters himself.

Barbara's son, Jerome, soon arrived to comfort his mother. Their family hadn't expected such a tragedy to occur, but death could be just as unpredictable as the weather. Grayness stretched across the sky, covering them in a veil of misery.

Amid the curious crowd, a news crew van pulled up into the parking lot. Hank's murder would be paraded around on the networks for a few months before a new topic fell into their grubby paws.

There was nothing Kazimir could do to console the family or take away their heartache. He let them grieve together and kept his distance.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

As the night bled into the early hours of dawn, Kazimir noticed that Detective Bailey kept a close eye on him no matter where he went. While he tried to ignore the feeling, for the life of him, he couldn't help but wonder why.

🎨

It was surreal not seeing Hank around the apartment complex. Kazimir almost expected to find him chatting with one of the downstairs tenants. They used to come out and smoke all the time on the stairs. That man could make friends anywhere he went, which was why Kazimir couldn't understand how someone could kill Hank so ruthlessly.

Kazimir's cigarette reached the filter, so he tossed it on the ground. Gripping the stair railing, he pushed himself off the step and made his way across the parking lot. He needed more smokes and snacks. The gas station down the road always had plenty in stock for a cheap price too.

Cold gusts of wind swept across the barren street he crossed. He tugged his hood over his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets. The gas station was almost dead. Only a man with his backed turned to him pumped fuel into his truck. The two cashiers didn't even bother to look up when Kazimir stepped inside, making his way over to the snack section.

Kazimir gathered some little cakes, potato chips, and beef jerky for Jordy in his arms. Before heading up to the checkout, he grabbed a strawberry Slurpee too. The cashier with neon blue streaks in her hair blew a bubble with her gum as she rung him up.

"This all for you, sweetie?"

"I'll take a pack of Marlboro Reds too," Kazimir told her.

"Sure thing. I'll just need to see some ID."

Just as he pulled his driver's license out and slid it across the counter, someone walked up beside him. Kazimir almost dropped his wallet at the sight of the blond gangster, donned in a fancy suit and baggy black jacket with the hood pulled up.

"Looks like we smoke the same thing," Emmett said with a smirk. "Make that two of those, dear. I'm paying for all of it."

The cashier grabbed another pack and rung them up. Kazimir hadn't even realized he'd walked into the gas station. Where did he come from? Was he the guy with the truck? Kazimir couldn't help but be suspicious. Random gangsters you paint insulting graffiti of typically don't buy you snacks and smokes afterward.

"Uh, thank you."

Emmett picked up his ID card, taking a quick look at it before handing it back. "You're very welcome, Kaz."

They headed back out into the crisp night where stars danced amid the dark sky. Kazimir gripped his bag of snacks tightly as he took a large sip of his strawberry Slurpee. The gangster didn't leave his side as he made his way back down the deserted road. Kazimir suspected the parked Chevy pickup truck belonged to Emmett, so why didn't he get in it and leave the gas station?

An anchor of dread sunk in Kazimir's chest as he considered the endless possibilities of how Emmett could torture him to death. Maybe he wanted revenge for creating the graffiti that traduced him. He thought Emmett would cut him up into tiny Kazimir pieces.

"Are you going to kill me?" Kazimir asked softly, clutching his bag tightly in front of him.

"I wouldn't dream of hurting my favorite artist," Emmett said, eyebrow craned and his lips curved in a mischievous smile. It didn't seem hostile. "I've wanted to meet you in person ever since I saw your first graffiti piece on Third Street, downtown in that alleyway."

"You keep up with my street art?" Kazimir fixed his narrowed-eyed gaze on Emmett, who gently brushed his shoulder against his.

"Of course. How could I ignore it when you shove it right in my face, right in our territory?" Emmett asked. "It didn't take me long to figure out you were the guy behind the art. I wanted to talk to you back then but you ran from me on your motorcycle."

"I was afraid you wanted to beat me up," Kazimir admitted. Amber light from a streetlamp guided them down the poorly paved road. His apartment complex wasn't much further.

"I'd never hurt you, Kaz. Is that what Samantha told you?" Emmett scoffed. "Typical of her. She spreads rumors like STDs."

"Wait, you know Samantha?" Kazimir's brows furrowed.

"Yeah, the crazy bitch tried to blow me up once. Swore I was a goner when the fire shattered the windows. The impact sent me flying across the room." Emmett made a playful exploding gesture with his hands. "Thankfully, a handsome fireman saved my sorry ass."

"What? No way." Kazimir shook his head. "Samantha would never do something like that. She's a sweet girl."

"Sweet my ass. Be careful around her, Kaz." Emmett's expression darkened, teeth clenched behind his pursed lips.

"Samantha isn't a danger to me," Kazimir insisted. "You must have her mixed up with someone else."

"She's your dealer, isn't she?" Emmett changed the subject, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I heard the Black Vipers are outrageous with their prices. At least, that's what their former clients tell me. I've heard they cut their coke with nasty shit sometimes too, and that's not good for you. So let me make you a counter offer to join the Voiceless Rebels instead. You can be our personal artist." He winked.

"Are you serious?" Kazimir jumped back, putting distance between them. "No way. I'm not joining any gangs. I appreciate you buying all this for me, but you can't use it to butter me up."

"You can have an unlimited supply of cocaine." Emmett stepped closer, smirking. "No fees or gimmicks. All you have to do is forsake the Black Vipers. You're not even a member, are you? That means they wouldn't hurt you if you came to our side."

Unlimited coke? The offer was too tempting and too good to be true, right? If he accepted and it was genuine, then Kazimir wouldn't need to worry about his financial problems as much. He'd be able to pay Jordy his share of rent and still have a couple bucks leftover to spend on himself.

There was also a chance that Emmett was trying to pull the wool over his eyes. Maybe the coke he offered would be laced with something bad like Fentanyl or some kind of poison to kill him.

Kazimir couldn't betray Samantha like that either. He cared too much about her to abandon her. He didn't trust Emmett either, despite how nice he acted.

"I'm sorry, but my answer's still no." Kazimir stood his ground, trembling on the sidewalk.

"Maybe a sample would change your mind?" Emmett retrieved a plastic baggie from his breast pocket. "Consider it on the house. A gift for a new friendship."

Seeing the crystal white powder made all logic soar up into the dark clouds. Kazimir's heart throbbed in his chest as he considered the gangster's generous offer again. Emmett didn't seem to pose a threat to him and it wasn't like Samantha would figure out about the sample, right?

Glancing up at the apartment he shared with Jordy, Kazimir fidgeted with his bag. He weighed his options carefully. Emmett had some kind of hidden agenda. It was likely this would come back to bite him in the ass later, but could he really turn down such an opportunity? Kazimir was torn between what to do.

"People don't just give out free coke like candy on Halloween. There must be something you want in return."

"Nothing at all. I just want to help a fellow addict out." Emmett rested a hand on his shoulder, leaning closer. "I hope this will convince you to join our side. You'll never have to worry about when you'll get your next fix or how you'll afford it."

Kazimir accepted his cocaine. "Thanks. I should get inside now, before my roommate gets worried about me."

It took all his willpower not to dump the contents out of the baggie and snort it all right there. Kazimir couldn't show his desperation to the gangster and let him see how much control he had over him. Tightening his coat closer around his shivering body, he hurried toward the stairwell to his apartment. He underestimated how cold it would be.

Kazimir just hadn't expected a little demonic beast to emerge from the bushes and peek its head up on the stairs. The raccoon hissed at him, glaring with beady red eyes like it wanted to steal his soul. Jumping away, Kazimir let out a small yelp as Emmett's strong arms wrapped around his waist before he fell. He pressed the back of his head against the gangster's tuxedo jacket, catching a whiff of his musky cologne.

Goosebumps rose on Kazimir's arms as his heart echoed amid his chest like a siren. The raccoon scampered away, leaving Kazimir looking like an idiot to the gangster, who snickered. Heat blossomed in his cheeks.

"You must be more careful." Emmett released him. "You have a good night, Kaz."

As Emmett walked back down the road to the gas station where he left his truck, Kazimir ascended the stairwell. He gazed back, stopping dead in his tracks as someone darted across their apartment's parking lot. The shadow weaved between his motorcycle and Jordy's truck. It was too dark to make out any distinguishable features. He couldn't even tell if it was a man or woman. But someone was there and they were in a rush to leave.

Had someone been watching him?