Work Text:
'The next time someone hires me to clean up a whole goddamn restaurant in the middle of the night,' Kovalsky thought bitterly, almost stumbling under the weight of the corpse he was carrying, 'remind me to politely decline.'
The restaurant itself was clean, the remnants of the brutal attack a few hours before all cleared into the back of Kovalsky's truck, but the back office still remained stained with blood. Oh, and that apartment at the end of the alleyway too. He grimaced as he remembered the struggle of getting that woman's body down from the second story.
'I am not paid enough for this crap...'
The ding of the front doorbell nearly made him jump out of his skin, and he only had time to dump the body around the corner behind him before a man walked in. The man seemed as shocked to see him as Kovalsky felt seeing him, both staring intensely at each other.
'Fuck. Big Jim didn't mention anyone would be showing up. That means he's not involved in this. Whoever this guy is, I need to get rid of him immediately.'
"It's..." The man flicked his wrist up and glanced at his watch, "two in the morning. Aren't places usually closed by now? Why are you still here?"
Kovalsky felt his heart rate increase, though to his credit he didn't show it to the man in front of him. "It was a busy night tonight, or yesterday rather," he lied smoothly, ignoring his heartrate spiking. "I had to stay overtime to get everything clean for tomorrow. The morning staff are... very particulate about cleanliness."
He panicked internally for a second, noticing a slight movement in his peripheral vision. A bloodied hand, belonging to that victim he had been carrying and hastily dropped the second this random guy had come in, had flopped over the side of the doorframe and appeared into view. Kovalsky fake coughed to hide the sound and gave the hand a not so subtle kick to hide it, not going unnoticed by the man in front of him.
The man's expression twisted from confusion to suspicion, and it took all of Kovalsky's strength to keep a straight face. 'Just remember, if you fuck this up and you're discovered, Big Jim will definitely kill you in the middle of the night and no one will find my body. And Dexter's too, probably. No witnesses and all that.
...
Shit.'
"The uh... The store is closed," Kovalsky continued, his voice a little higher than intended. "You really shouldn't be in here. If my boss finds out you were in here, well... it probably won't go so well for me. You know, burglaries in the area and... all that."
Understatement of the fucking year. Not even the police could save him from Big Jim if he were to get caught. Knowing his luck, they'd probably get put in neighbouring fucking cells.
The man's gaze flicked back to him from where it had been looking suspiciously at Kovalsky's kick. He held up his hands in an I'm surrendering guesture, trying to indicate that he wasn't a threat. "I'm just looking for my daughter. She works the evening shifts here and she was supposed to get home a few hours ago, but she never came back home. Her name is Tammy, d-do you know her?" He sounded desperate.
Shit. The girl from the alleyway. He had found her earlier, seemingly caught in the crossfire of the attack. Kovalsky had seen the text messages, had seen the concern from her father about the shop. She was so young, couldn't have been older than eighteen. It reminded him of Elena.
For a man supposedly well-versed in the art of murder, it was a fucking miracle Big Jim hadn't been caught already. To leave this many disappearances? Even the crime scene cleaner could see how suspicious that was, and he'd only been doing this for a couple of weeks.
He realised he would have to think of a lie on the spot. "Oh, Tammy? Yeah, I know her. My shift usually starts as hers ends. She gives me the keys to lock up with when I'm done," he forced out the lie, voice not faltering. "She's missing? That's so weird, I definitely saw her leave. It must have been later this evening." Smooth. Not suspicious at all.
The father's gaze never shifted from his suspicion. If anything, he looked even more concerned at his lie. "I have the keys she gave me," he added almost desperately (though his voice didn't show it), holding up the set of black keys Big Jim had left on the back doorstep for him. It was an attempt to sound more genuine, though by the look on the man's face he could see it hadn't worked.
"Is it okay if I have a little look around?" The man asked, moving to Kovalsky's right side as if to push past him. He instantly moved to block the father's way, preventing his movement into the back corridor.
Shit, he hadn't finished the office yet. While he had started by bagging up all of the corpses in the area, the back office was still splattered and stained with blood, with overturned chairs and bullets littering the floor. He had elected to clear the main restaurant first, a wise decision if the unexpected appearance was anything to go by.
"I'm sorry, but I can't let you back there," Kovalsky said, holding his hand up to stop the man if he attempted to get closer. The man glared at him, anger beginning to set in past his concern.
"My daughter's missing and you're acting suspicious as hell man! Give me one good reason I can't go back there!" The man seethed, and Kovalsky could see his fists closing up as if he were going to hit the cleaner.
It was now Kovalsky's turn to hold up his hands in an attempt to pacify the man. "Because you don't work here? It's employees only, sorry." Hopefully, that would be enough to deter the man.
It wasn't.
"Okay look, I-" The man started, before backing off. Kovalsky watched as he moved his hands to his sides took a deep breath, perhaps in attempt to not come across as too strong. "I just want to look for my daughter, please. I won't be long, I swear. I just..." he trailed off and went silent, staring at Kovalsky with what looked like a mixture of horror and suspicion.
"Is that... Is that blood on your arm?"
...shit.
"...It's pizza sauce?" Kovalsky tried lamely, but he knew as he said it that it was a weak excuse. Normally he was a lot more stone-faced and calm under pressure, having cleaned several crime scenes before this, but the pure unexpectedness of this encounter paired with his exhaustion? It had thoroughly caught him off guard, and he was only just starting to see the potential danger.
The man backed up for a second, before determination clouded his features. He darted towards the back hallway door faster than Kovalsky could ever hope to stop him, pushing past him roughly and yelling out his daughter's name, bursting into the back office.
"Tammy? Tammy! Dad's here! I'm here Tammy, where are-" his voice was cut off as he stared at the spray of bloodied walls, stained carpets and thoroughly trashed furniture. Kovalsky sprinted after him, knocking him to the floor and getting rewarded with an elbow to the face while trying to pin the man.
"What did you do?? What did you do to my daughter?!" The father practically screamed with instant panic setting in, scrambling back on his elbows trying to find somewhere safe. In his panic, he grabbed the gun left behind from the original crime scene, swinging round and pointing it at Kovalsky.
Oh, shit. He knew he should have cleaned that up with the bodies. Did it have any bullets left? He hoped he wouldn't have to find out.
"Tammy! Where is my daughter, my little girl, what did you do?! What did you DO to her!?" It was almost impossible to understand the man through his thick voice, tears beginning to form.
"Okay, look," Kovalsky started, not moving from where he was kneeling except for his hands going up in what he hoped was a please don't shoot motion. "This is all one big fucking misunderstanding. Just put the gun down, and-"
He was cut off by a loud bang of a gun. He instinctively closed his eyes and flinched, waiting for the pain to hit.
Nothing happened.
Kovalsky slowly inched one of his eyes open. In front of him, the corpse of the father had fallen over the desk, a spray of fresh blood coating the wall beside him. The perpetrator, gun still smoking, smirked at the sight, before staring at Kovalsky intensely. He had clearly come through the back door.
'Jesus Christ this guy works fast. The man got here, what? Two minutes ago? How is he already here?'
"I heard your attempts to get rid of the man on your radio, Mr Kovalsky. They were good attempts, but ultimately that's all they were," Big Jim sneered, pocketing his gun. Kovalsky barely registered the movement, staring intently at the now-corpse on the floor.
"Next time, get rid of any prying eyes immediately. That's what I pay you for, no? Or else it will be your brains splattered on this wall alongside the nosy parker." He could only bring himself to nod, never tearing his eyes off of the corpse. He barely registered the footsteps of the other man leaving, or the sound of an engine pulling out of the alleyway. He just sat there, numb.
He had cleaned up so many bodies before now, it really shouldn't bother him. But it was so different than before. Before, it was just the stillness from someone he had never met. Now, he had actually watched as the life drained from the poor man's eyes. It was different, it was so different.
And for what? All he had wanted was to find his daughter. His dead daughter. Currently lying in a body bag in his truck. The truck where he himself would soon be lying. Fucking hell, that hurt.
The first hand reminder of the world he now currently lived in was painful. At first, he felt fear, for himself, for Elena. Then, anger, at Big Jim for hiring him and at Tyler getting him into this mess in the first place. And finally, just a numbness to it all.
He sat there for a few minutes, feeling pins prick at his eyes. He refused to cry though. He had a job to do after all. And what if the wife now came looking for the missing pair- okay nope let's notthinkaboutthat-
Kovalsky picked himself up and dusted himself off, getting out another body bag. He had a restaurant to clean. And then, finally, he would be able to go home and get some sleep.