The Legend of Ronnie Valentine

The Conscience of Ronnie Valentine

"Not guilty?" Pete yelled down the phone. "Not guilty? Are you fu-" He cut himself short as he realised Lisa and I were in the room. "Are you for real?" He hissed quietly. I sagged in my seat as all the optimism I'd felt just hours ago suddenly dissipated. My mum's killer had gotten away with murder.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through Facebook. Sure enough, the top story was the news coverage of the trial. Against my better judgement, I opened the article.

"In a shocking turn of events, defendant Russell Adamson has been found not guilty of the sexual assault and subsequent murder of Detective Julie Roberts. Despite seemingly overwhelming evidence to the contrary, Adamson, also known as 'Jaws' to his friends and colleagues, was cleared of all charges and released from police custody today. In a statement, Judge Martin Stevens said-" I closed the article and slammed my phone down in frustration.

I could care less about what the judge had to say for himself. The bottom line was that he'd let a murderer walk free. And if Adamson had escaped justice, then how many other victims would he claim? I clenched my fists. None. That was how many. Call it reckless impulsivity brought on by my grief, call it what you will. All that mattered was that Russell Adamson was going to die. Tonight.

A brief search through Facebook told me all I needed to know. Thankfully Russell was not so much into privacy as he was into boasting. Thanks to his ego I now knew where he lived, what car he drove and even what time he got home from work. I grabbed Uncle Pete's handgun from his bedside drawer and set off on my mission.

I studied the building carefully. Guilded Heights Apartments. Pretty upmarket for a murderer, but who knew what other nefarious schemes he had running on the side? I checked my notes. Adamson would be home in around twenty minutes. That meant I had to get into the building and find a way into his apartment before then. I bit my lip and approached the doorman.

"Excuse me, sir?" The doorman turned to me with a stony glare. I tried to make my expression sufficiently innocent, being thankful for my baby-face for the first time ever. "I was just wondering, could you help me? See, my mum sent me to drop something off for my uncle, but I seem to have gotten here a little early. Could you let me in please?" He appraised me for the longest while before he keyed in the code, his expression never changing. I bid him thanks and stepped inside.

Thankfully, the receptionist at the front desk was much more accommodating. All I needed to do was give her my "uncle's" name, and she all but gift-wrapped my opportunity. She gave me the passcode for the elevator, and the spare key to the room, all with a scarlet-lipped smile. I almost felt bad for having to lie to her. Still, needs must when the devil drives.

I held my breath the entire elevator ride to the top, and as I stepped out onto the thirteenth floor I realised I was feeling light-headed. I shook my head frantically to clear my thoughts. I couldn't afford any distractions if I was to see this thing through to the end. I quickly unlocked the door to room 34 and headed inside.

As the door clicked shut behind me I glanced at my watch. Assuming the traffic was the same as always I had around five minutes to compose myself. But... I quickly traced the route in my head. He drove for the taxi firm in the town centre, and there were roadworks by the swimming baths. Being a taxi driver he'd know to avoid them, and the diversion would actually save him about fi-

"Oh, bollocks..." I muttered to myself as I heard Russell Adamson put his key in the door. I hurriedly yanked Pete's gun from my pocket and pointed it at the door, trying in vain to steady my shaking hands. My finger curled around the trigger, and as the door eased its way open... I froze. My hands started to shake more as Adamson made his way inside then stopped when he saw me. There were a few moments of silence as he appraised the situation.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" He eventually asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. Not quite the terrified tremble I'd hoped for. I gritted my teeth and stared up at him. He was half a foot taller than me which didn't help on the intimidation stakes, but I had to try.

"You killed the only person I ever loved. I'm here to return the favour." He licked his lips, digesting this. He grinned and leaned in close, his chest pressed against the barrel of the handgun.

"I don't know what or who you're talking about." he whispered mockingly. "But suppose I did, I dare say Detective Julie Roberts had it coming. Always charging in, sticking her nose where it didn't belong without a care for her own safety. It was one of the things I respected most about her. That and the fact she had a kiss that could take your breath away. I was lucky enough to experience it before her tragic death that legally I had nothing to do with." I snarled and jerked the gun up into his jaw to knock him back, then aimed for his face. He laughed at that.

"Go on then," he goaded. "Do it. But ask yourself this: Could you kill a man? To look into his eyes and watch the life leave them? Your actions now will set you on a dark path, and if you can't one hundred percent commit to it you'll be eaten alive. Here's a penny worth of free advice: Swim away now little fish, before the big bad sharks get hungry." My hands shook more as the gravity of the situation caught up with me. Adamson was right; I wasn't capable of cold-blooded murder.

I studied the room, looking for a distraction tactic. The chandelier above his head... It looked real, but it didn't quite shine right as the light hit it. So, plastic then. Heavy enough and decorated to pass as real. I sharply pulled the gun upwards and pulled the trigger, diving backwards as the plastic chandelier came crashing down. Adamson cursed as he collapsed to the floor, unconscious but still breathing.

Finish him. A voice in the back of my mind whispered. You've got the gun, he's already unconscious, just do it.

"I can't..." I muttered to myself.

Why not? He killed your mother, who knows who else before her, and who knows who's next? What's one scumbag's life in exchange for countless innocent ones? One shot is all it'll take. Just PULL THE TRIGGER!

My hands shook furiously, trying to will myself to kill the monster before me. Finally, with a yell of frustration I lowered the gun and sighed. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't bring myself to sink to his level. I carefully stepped over Adamson as I left the apartment, trying to compose myself before I reached the elevator. I'd just reached the foyer when the receptionist called over to me.

"Was everything okay with your uncle?" I bit my lip, trying to steady my voice before I answered.

"Yeah, he's fine. He fell asleep so I figured I'd just sneak out without bothering him." She nodded and motioned to the doorman to let me out.

The second I made it home I ran straight to the bathroom. I stared at my reflection as a conflicting cocktail of emotions overwhelmed me, almost drowning me. Guilt for what I almost did tonight, the disgust I knew my mum would have felt towards me had I succeeded, fear of what would happen when Adamson told the police and, most confusing of all, shame.

You should have ended it there and then. Adamson would be six feet under, and the people of the town could sleep a little easier.

I hesitated. I wanted to console my thoughts. I wanted to convince myself that I was being irrational, that Russell Adamson would be caught again and justice would be served. I sighed. I couldn't honestly tell myself that and believe it. The futility of it all hit me like a train and upended the emotional cocktail, the contents of my stomach hurtling out with shame.