Available Darkness Season 2

“We’ve gone over this, Abi. Several times.”
    “But the jury must’ve had some reason to let her go.”
    “Juries fuck up,” Larry said. “All the time. In this case, everyone fucked up. From the police botching evidence, to the prosecutors being too stupid to work around it to the judge. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if her daddy paid off half the jury!”
    Abigail sighed, “Yeah, I guess.”
    “Guess nothing,” Larry said. “She did it. Goddamn, she practically did a Google search for ‘How can I, Karen Theresa McKenna, murder my child and get away with it?’”
    Abigail chortled, this time a sincere, deep belly laugh.
    “You’re right,” she said. “You know how I get.”
    Larry’s sigh said far more than any words he might have used. Abigail looked down at her gloved hands, then back up at Larry, “I’m not gonna wimp out this time. I promise.”
    “I don’t mind if you do,” Larry said. “I know you don’t want to kill anyone who doesn’t deserve it. I get it. That’s what makes you so much better than all these fuckers, Abi, believe me. If it doesn’t happen tonight, I’ll find someone else.”
    Abigail shook her head. “No, I don’t want to put you in danger again. We’ll kill her. Tonight, I swear.”
    A promise followed by a swear — there was no way Abigail could back out now.

    **

    They sat outside Karen’s house — one of many her father had scattered across the country — waiting for the bodyguard to return to his car after walking Karen inside and presumably checking the place out. She’d been free for more than two years, and out of the news for one, yet judging from her bodyguard’s actions, you’d think there were constant threats against her life. Maybe there were.
    Abigail remembered the red anger burning from the sea of faces in the footage Larry had shown her from when the “innocent” verdict was read. Though the murder happened in Miami, and they were clear across the country in California, the case drew international attention, mostly because of Karen’s father, Peter McKenna, billionaire owner of the globally recognized timeshare company, McKenna Resorts. Abigail figured some other people wanting to see justice had probably made threats on her life, though she doubted many would go to the lengths she and Larry would to dispense justice.
    They’d spent months researching Karen’s case. Larry reached out to people in his network who knew people involved — always keeping enough of a distance to avoid an eventual link back to Karen’s murder, of course. He had also done some black hat-type research, hacking into Karen McKenna’s cell and computer records, and finding several interesting tidbits that hadn’t even made the relentless press coverage, which made Larry all the more suspect of Peter McKenna paying people off.
    Larry said that there was zero doubt in his mind that Karen McKenna murdered her son. For Abigail, that would have to be enough. Tonight, she would feed. And tonight, Karen’s son, Kyle, would finally find justice — once they took care of the bodyguard.

    **

    Abigail approached the bodyguard, sitting in his car on the street outside Karen’s house. She was wearing black pants and a purple long-sleeved shirt to cover her ungloved hands. As she moved close enough for the guard to finally notice her, she pulled her long dark hair away from her face to display her tearstained cheeks.
    “Please, help me, Mister,” Abigail cried out as she broke into a run toward the car.
    The guard lowered his phone and looked up, startled, then immediately pulled a gun on Abigail and aimed it at her.
    Oh crap, he knows.
    No — he’s just scared. Back up.
    Abigail stuck with her ruse, stopping about six feet from the front of the car and raising her hands to show she meant no harm. “Please,” she cried, meeting his eyes. The bodyguard was muscular, with a movie star’s jaw. The type of guy who likely never lost his cool. “There’s a man after me!”
    “What?” the guard said hopping from his car. He was tall.
    Abigail stayed put. She could feel his suspicion as he looked her over, then up at the street behind her. “Who’s after you?”
    Larry’s van surfaced from the black, high-brights blaring down on them.
    “Oh, God! He found me!” Abigail cried out, starting to run past the man, as if fleeing Larry.
    “It’s OK,” he said, looking down at Abigail in reassurance. “You’re OK.”
    The guard turned back to the