He eyed the policewoman and shrugged his shoulders. "I was gonna try to make my way back to Boston, but that ain't gonna happen. Not with my car fucked. As for the shooting? It had to be done." He looked out the window as he told the lie, knowing very well that what he did was something that was completely unnecessary. "You know, before all of this shit happened. I wouldn't of been caught dead in the front seat of Boston PD cruiser. If one of my colleagues saw me here? You'd find me in the trunk of a car on Em street, two in the chest, one in the head. That oughta give you the idea of where I'm headed. Back home, to Southie. See if my folks are still around. I doubt they are, but I ain't ready to give up on my ma and my brothers. Family's the only thing I've ever had in this world."

He closed his eyes and let a memory flood his vision. It's October 31st, 2014. Halloween. The order had gotten past down from the boss, Seamus Connelly. Jackie Fitzpatrick from Magnolia street had to go. They put the hit on Mike Coughlan, an opportunity to make his bones and get in with the upper echelon of the organization. Mike dressed up with one of those old Scream horror movie masks, a black hoody, black sweatpants and black sneakers, with plastic bags tied over them. He wore a pair of black leather gloves and carried a suppressed Glock 19 handgun. He knocked on Jackie's door three times and when he answered, Mike spoke three words. "Trick or treat." Before shooting Jackie execution style with the suppressed Glock. Coroners dug a total of thirteen slugs out of Jackie's face and chest and the Boston Police Department lost it's star criminal informant. Michael's clothes were burned, the pistol was dismantled, encased in cement and dropped in to the ocean, from a fishing boat three miles off the coast and Michael earned his name as a competent hitter and enforcer for the Connelly crime syndicate. 


[@Love Me Dead]