He looked up at her with murder in his eyes. “Shall I take another one?” she said. He looked away.
“If I get word that you’ve come within a mile of my brother, I will come back and take your eyes. The toe and the finger joint were just a down payment on that.”
He made a sullen sound, so she took his vain and girlish blond hair in her fist and tugged his head back and kissed his throat with the knife.
“Nod if you understand. ”
“The knife is under Mimi’s pillow.”
“I can’t do it,” Alan said.
“I know,” Brian said. “I will.”
And he did. Took the knife. Took the Allen. It cried. Mimi threw up in another room, the sound more felt than heard. The toilet flushed and Brian’s hands were sure and swift, but not sure enough. The Allen made a sound like a dog whistle. Bruce’s hand moved again, and then it was over. He dug a sock out of the hamper and rolled up the Allen’s remains in it. “I’ll bury it,” he said. “In the back.”
Numbly, Alan stood and began dressing. “No,” he said. “I will.”