“Come in.”

I followed her into the apartment. We sat down, and she tapped her cigarette against a heavy glass ashtray.

“I would offer you coffee, but I don’t want this to turn into a whole visit,” she said shortly. “Ask your questions and go.”

“Right,” I leaned back in the creaky, metal chair. “I was hoping you could tell me about Brycen. About what happened to him.”

“You don’t know?” she asked.

“I would like to hear it from someone who went through it.”

That and I didn’t exactly know. I’d done my research the night before and was able to find a few facts from the internet. However, I couldn’t waltz into the station and go researching things. Everything was monitored. If I was caught looking up stuff I had no business sticking my nose into, I would be fired and could even be looking at charges. No, it was better to do this on my own.

“Brycen is… was… my younger brother,” she said shortly. “He was doing great in life until he hooked up with that animal.”

“Animal?”

“Enzo Vitale,” she spat. “The whole family is filled with criminal thugs.” She laughed dryly. “I used to be afraid to talk about them, but I don’t care anymore. My brother might have been a lot of things, but he was good to me. To our family. Even if he drove us all insane.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Brycen liked to run off. He was wild, you know? Partying, drinking, falling into bed with the wrong kind of men. I always warned him it was going to get him killed…” She trailed off, a tear rolling down her cheek before she wiped it away with her arm.

“And it did.”

“Well, he’s presumed dead at this point,” she muttered. “According to the cops, he’s simply a missing person, but I know the truth. My brother is dead, and Enzo killed him.”

A shiver down my spine. “Why do you think that?”

“He used to send flowers here after it happened. There was never any card or anything, but I knew they were from him. Sometimes I would see him across the street, staring at the apartment. Or he would call and hang up without saying anything. He creeps me out,” she said. She took a long, slow drag off of her cigarette. “I don’t know what Brycen got mixed up in, but whatever it is got him killed.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

She shrugged. “What does sorry do? Men like the Vitales, they don’t care about anyone but themselves. Killing people is part of what they do. I just wish my asshole brother had listened to me when I said that to him,” she sniffled hard, her breathing a stutter. “Is that all?”

I reached across the table and laid a hand on hers. “Could I look at his room?”

Abigail laughed. “What more could you want from me?” she snapped. “You come in here dredging up history that’s over two years old, and now you want to search his room? Well, guess what? There’s nothing in it. I donated what I could, sold the rest, and anything that’s left is in storage. Now,” she yanked her hand away from mine as her chair scraped against the linoleum floor, “get out of my house. I’m done. Unless you’re telling me that the son of a bitch and his family are either in jail or dead, do not come back here.”