I didn’t want to consider the reasons for too quiet, preferring to squash the panic clawing at my stomach and replace it with some more constructive emotion. How about cool reasoning? Nope. I didn’t have any of that available. How about cunning? Sorry, low on cunning. How about anger. Did I have any anger? Fucking A. I had so much anger my skin could hardly contain it all. Anger for Grandma, anger for all the women Mancuso’d abused, anger for the cops who were killed with the stolen ammo. I pulled the anger in until it was hard and razor sharp.

“Now what?” I said to Kenny. “Where do we go from here?”

“Now we put you on ice for a while. Until the house empties out. Then I’ll see what kind of a mood I’m in. We have a bunch of options being that we’re in a funeral parlor. Hell, we could strap you to the table and embalm you while you’re still alive. That would be fun.” He pressed the tip of the knife blade to the back of my neck. “Walk.”

“Where?”

He jerked his head. “Over to the corner.”

The crated caskets were stacked in the corner. “To the caskets?”

He smiled and prodded me forward. “The caskets come later.”

I squinted into the corner shadows and realized the caskets weren’t flush to the wall. Tucked behind the caskets was a refrigeration unit with two body drawers. The drawers were closed, the metal trays locked behind heavy metal doors.

“Gonna be nice and dark in there,” Kenny said. “Give you time to think.”

Fear slid down my spine and sickened my stomach. “Grandma Mazur …”

“Turning into a Popsicle, even as we speak.”

“NO! Let her out! Open the drawer, I’ll do whatever you want!”

“You’ll do whatever I want anyway,” Kenny said. “You’re not going to be moving too fast after an hour in there.”

Tears were pouring down my cheeks and sweat prickled under my arms. “She’s old. She’s no threat to you. Let her go.”

“No threat? Are you kidding? That old lady is criminally insane. You know what it took to get her in that drawer?”

“She’s probably dead by now, anyway,” Spiro said.

Kenny looked at him. “You think so?”

“How long she been in there?”

Kenny checked his watch. “Maybe ten minutes.”

Spiro stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You lower the temperature?”

“No,” Kenny said. “I just shoved her in.”

“We don’t keep the drawers cold if they’re unoccupied,” Spiro explained. “Saves on electricity. Probably it’s only around room temperature.”

“Yeah, but she could have died from fright. What do you think?” Kenny asked me. “You think she’s dead?”

A sob stuck in my chest.

“Sweetie pie is speechless,” Kenny said. “Maybe we should open the drawer and see if the old bag’s breathing?”

Spiro released the latch and yanked the door open. He grabbed the end of the stainless steel tray and slowly rolled it toward him, so that the first thing I saw was Grandma Mazur’s shoes pointing toes up, then Grandma’s bony shin, her big blue coat, arms rigidly at her sides, hands hidden under the folds of the coat.