Kellerman stared down the barrel of a gun. Several times he had a man point a gun at him and he could always read them. He could always tell whether or not they were capable of pulling the trigger. Those that couldn't, he would talk them down, get them to lose focus. But staring into the eyes of THIS man, told him he was angry enough to pull the trigger. To shoot him right here in broad daylight on the side of the road. This man's eyes were ferocious, like a lion about to hunt his prey and Kellerman was the prey. If only he hadn't mentioned Veronica's name. Hadn't insisted on telling this man that he was sorry she was dead and that he had nothing to do with it. Because in reality if Veronica hadn't eluded him countless times, he would have shot her dead without a hint of remorse and this man knew it. This man couldn't be fooled, he could sense Kellerman's intentions.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't blow your brains out!" Lincoln yelled. His face filled with a rage that sent fear down Kellerman's body.
"Because I know where Terrance Steadman is," Kellerman said. And there it was—the one thing that could keep him alive.
Lincoln grabbed Kellerman by the collar and shoved the gun hard against his neck.
"If you're lying to me…" Lincoln growled.
"I swear."
"Take me to him."
Lincoln shoved Kellerman against the car and walked over to the passenger seat and stepped in. The younger brother remained silent, almost unsure of what do to, maybe realizing that Lincoln could indeed pull that trigger.
Kellerman drove in silence with Lincoln pointing a gun at him. He looked over at Lincoln.
"I'm on your side. I want to take the president down too…" Kellerman said.
"Who gave you permission to speak," Lincoln said.
Blackfoot Montana….
Kellerman pulled up to the front door and parked the car. Lincoln stepped out with Michael trailing behind. He turned to Kellerman. "Let's go," Lincoln demanded.
"Wait!" Kellerman.
"Wait for what!?" Lincoln said.
"We all can't go in. You see the door only opens from the outside. If all three of us go in we're trapped," Kellerman explained.
Lincoln turned to Michael. "Michael can you wait out here?" Michael shook his head and leaned against the car.
Kellerman and Lincoln walked in. The living room was spotless but there was no sign of Steadman, except that the television was on. Then they heard footsteps and saw Steadman walking over to them with a glass of juice in his hand and a shocked look on his face.
"You shouldn't have come here," Steadman said.
Lincoln rushed over to him and shoved him against the wall. The force was so fierce that Steadman's body vibrated and stung at the collision of his back crashing against the wall. He dropped his glass of juice.
"You look pretty good for a dead man!" Lincoln roared in his face. His eyes glaring.
Steadman focused on Lincoln's face and realized just who was looking at him. The man who was sentenced to death for his fake murder.
"You're coming with us!" Lincoln said and yanked him by his bathrobe shoving him toward the door.
"We can't" Steadman said. "The door is…" but before he could finish that statement he saw Michael open the door and for the first time in 3 years, Steadman had finally stepped out of his prison.
Lincoln shoved him against the hood of the car.
"They'll kill all of us," Steadman said. "You don't understand…"
"No YOU don't understand," Lincoln roared. "There's only one thing I want to hear come out of your mouth."
Steadman looked at him with fear. His heart pounding in his chest. Lincoln looked at this pitiful looking man, wearing a bathrobe and all he could think about were her last words. Words that ate as his soul and ripped his heart apart, leaving him with only the stench of anger and bitterness to keep him going. I don't want to lose you.
"Where is she!?" Lincoln yelled.
Steadman looked into his eyes, knowing exactly who he was asking about—Veronica, that beautiful young woman who came to save her boyfriend's life.
"I said, where is she!?"
"She's dead," Steadman said with regret in his eyes.
Lincoln's face scrunched in pain. The 3 shots fired ringing in his head. He took a deep breath.
"W-h-e-r-e…i-s…s-h-e?"
"I don't know. They chopped her body up and carried her out in 2 trash bags."
Lincoln's eyes bulged in horror. He gave out a large gasp and released Steadman. His hands too weak to hold on, too weak to do anything but just hang from his lifeless body.
Steadman reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue silk scarf and handed it to Lincoln, whose arm struggled to muster the strength to reach out and take it. Lincoln just stood there with his hand open weakly holding this scarf, looking at it in shock.
"It was hers," Steadman said. "I liked her. I didn't want her to die."
Lincoln eyes were still glued to the scarf. The only thing that remained of his precious Veronica. The air went thick and he stumbled backwards. His legs went limp and he lost balance as he dropped to his knees. His body hunched over and his mind started to drift.
The image of the beautiful women he had known his entire life replaced by the image of dismembered body parts. He started to image what they did to her. Stripping her body, leaving her no dignity. Dumping her in the bathtub and cutting her up with a saw.
He held her scarf in his hand, searching for something that would make sense, but he couldn't make sense of it. His body quivered and he struggled to breath, gasping for air.
How could they do this to her? Chop her up like a useless piece of garbage you throw out at the end of the day. She was more than that.… She was my life. She was my future. She was everything to me. She wasn't garbage. She wasn't a piece of meat. She was Veronica... How could she die that way? How could they do that to her?...Oh God…Help me….It should have been me, not her. It should have been me….
He pulled the blue silk scarf up to his nose and drank in her scent, recalling her smile, the way her green eyes sparkled when they looked up at him. Here in his hands was all that remained of Veronica. There was no body to bury. No typical closure to be had. Just the blue silk scarf he bought for her some years ago as a graduation gift. It matched her graduation robe perfectly and he remembered when she first wore it for him. They had finished making love and she stepped out of the bathroom with nothing on but that blue silk scarf tied around her neck.
"How does it look on me?" she said with a naughty grin.
"I've never seen a scarf look so beautiful," he replied.
Lincoln hugged the blue silk scarf in his fist. Then balled over as a tear cascaded down his cheek.