Fired

“We’ll stop here,” said my companion gruffly as he set our bags down on the old wooden floor of the cabin. I sighed in relief. It wasn’t much warmer inside, but at least we were out of the wind. By my estimations, we had crossed into Canada some time ago. My guide was a man of few words (answering in monosyllables and avoiding whole sentences almost entirely), and I myself hopeless with directions, so I couldn’t be sure. I had, however, memorized the route from the last village we had stopped to this place.

           I took stock of my surroundings. The one-room structure – something I wasn’t thrilled with given my company – was a bit shabby and somehow foreboding and dark. It had a fireplace on one wall (thank god), a plain rug in front of that, and a worn-looking red couch that faced it. There were a few rough blankets in the corner. I didn’t know how he had known about this place. Was it his? Were we trespassing? I decided not to ask. He might not tell me anyway, and as long as he started the fire soon I wouldn’t care if we were.

           I didn’t much mind his silence. Even when I’d offered to pay handsomely, I had received many polite refusals of my request before I found this one. He knew the critical details of our “mission”- that I was searching for a lost family member - but not much else. His purpose was basically to keep me alive while we were out in the middle of the frozen north. A middle-aged man with black eyes, handsome in a rugged sort of way, he was a bit intimidating. He stood about six and a half feet tall with a wide build. It was hard not to be very aware of the fact that I was alone in a room with this hulking figure; I was a good foot shorter and probably a hundred pounds lighter than this man. Not to mention twenty years younger. And a woman. I shook my head to clear it. I was here for a reason and couldn’t afford to be distracted.

           I figured I would feel more at ease if I could coax some words out of him. He had started to make the fire while I had been lost in my thoughts. I had done a bit of research about the man before we’d left. After all, I had to make sure he was the right fit.

           “Do you ever miss living in Canada?” I asked to break the ice. From what I’d gathered, he’d only recently moved to my state. He shrugged. I had to remind myself that I should ask open-ended questions rather than yes-or-no. I grabbed my small bag and moved to sit on the rickety couch.

           “So, um, why’d you move?” I knew the answer to this one but wanted to hear what he’d say.

           “Work,” he answered quickly, for him. A lie. I felt a sense of triumph at catching him in one. Then my heart started to beat faster. Why would he lie about that? He glanced up at me from his task, and I got a distinct feeling that he knew I knew he was lying. After all, he was able to take time to go on this errand with me, was he not? What job would allow for that?

           At that thought, I wondered why he even said yes to me. I could hardly believe that he was moved by my desperation, cold and indifferent as he was. I decided to ask him.

           “Money,” he replied, and this was not a lie. I had paid him well up-front and offered to give even more were we successful. That last fact was probably what prompted him to then speak to me in full sentences. He stood and moved a few steps closer to me. I did not like his nearness, and I cowered a bit. He smirked. My fear amused him.  

           “Tell me about this cousin of yours,” he demanded in an unfriendly tone. “I want paid.”

           “Brother,” I said firmly, flashing a sharp look at him.

           “What?” He said flatly.

           “My brother. It’s my brother James who went missing,” I stated, my voice only cracking on the last word. James was my dearest friend in the world; these months without him had been brutal.

           “Huh. What do you know about his disappearance?” He asked this indifferently, though my pain must have been obvious.

“W-well,” I stuttered, not-so-subtly scooting down the couch to get some distance between us. He took a small step closer, probably just to make me more uncomfortable. Bastard. I decided it was time to get to the point. I clutched my bag tighter to me.

“I know quite a bit actually.” He looked at me impatiently, waiting for me to go on.

“I had done quite a bit of digging before asking you to accompany me here. James was a bit of a free spirit, at least that’s what our mother called it. He fancied himself a bit of an explorer, which is how he found himself up here in the first place. The police never took me seriously, even though I insisted to them that no matter where he was, James would always find a way to write me,” I paused.

I was gaining confidence as I was going on. This man needed to hear this story for the plan to work.

“I ended up hiring someone to look into it for me, contacting locals of the area and some police departments. I fired him when it became clear he had done all he could for me. I knew I had to take it from there.”

I stopped to look at my confused companion. God, he was dull.

“It turns out my brother had been up to his old tricks, gambling away his inheritance one card game at a time. I loved him dearly, but he was a bit of an idiot. Anyway, it turns out James fell in with a bad crowd and owed some northern hillbilly around here a lot of money. After weeks of not fulfilling his debt and threats by his debtors, they killed him,” my last words came out bitterly and my heart was hammering. Not with fear, but with anger.

My companion looked like he had added just a tinge of fear to his confusion. Good. It was time to drop pretenses. I smoothly drew out the gun from my small bag and aimed it at his head. I had managed to get enough distance between us that he couldn’t try to grab for it. I had studied him enough to know that he had a gun – a few – but none were on his person currently. An ax for cutting the wood lay a few feet away.

“There were three men, but only one pulled the trigger. They buried him somewhere near here, I believe, though I guess you'd know better than I. The first two were easy enough to deal with, but the ringleader proved a bit harder to trap,”

“Lots of people know we’re together. You can’t just shoot me!” finally some emotion. I felt a Cheshire grin spread across my face. Now I was the one enjoying his fear. Relishing it, just like with the others.

“I’ll admit it will require a bit of…theatrics. ‘Oh, sheriff,’” I feigned a doe-eyed, fearful look. “’You should’ve seen the way he kept looking at me all day! Then when he rushed at me in the cabin I-I had no choice!’”

I leered at his outraged expression. I saw his eyes the moment he decided to go for it. I fired.