I just nod my head and his eyes fill with and unbearable sorrow.

So I get up, silently, and walk across the room. And I hug them both. And Carmen bursts out crying, sinking her face into Dante’s leather jacket, her left hand blindly searching for me, clasping to the back of my t-shirt.

We didn’t really comfort each other, until now. And nor me or Carmen thought that Dante needed to be comforted, too. So we just hug him tightly, and for a second, he can just let go.

He doesn’t cry, though. He doesn’t sob. His eyes are glimmering and so green now, but they’re dry. Under the surface of his desperation, I can see his blind rage and I recognize it. Because it’s the same furor that I am feeling.

“Come in Shane, the door it’s open”, he said, lighting his cigar.
“How are you doing, Marshall?” I asked, politely but without a trace of real fun in my voice.
“I’m good. Take a seat”. And he stared at me with those light blue eyes of his, those fatherly eyes full of genuine affection and respect.
“What about the gun?” I asked him and he shook his head.
“I am not giving you any gun”.
“Why?”.
“Because you would kill him with that gun”.
I gave him a wicked smirk.
“Do you really think that shooting him is the only way to kill him?”.
“Of course not. What I really think is that you shouldn’t go into trouble for that piece of shit”.
“He put himself into a big trouble the moment he touched Carmen… and our baby”, I stated.
“Shane…”, he sighed, getting up from his chair and kneeling down beside me, “As a private eye, I shouldn’t even be here talking with you about the way you could or couldn’t kill the man who shot your partner”.
“My wife”.
He nodded in agreement.
“Ok, your wife. As a private eye, what I should do is to communicate the police that I have found the man, and let them arrest him e taking him to the jury”.
“Marshall, I –“.
He touched my knee, stopping me mid-sentence.
“Listen, Shane. I know you’re angry. I know that, believe me. It’s just that… You are not a cold blood killer. You’re not a murderer. You don’t have to do that. There are other ways”.
“Tell my wife” I answered, sarcastically, and Marshall lifted his eyebrows.
“Oh, ok, now I see. Of course killing the man will take Carmen’s memory back”.
It was his turn to be sarcastic.
“I don’t want to see him arrested. I want to see him punished”.
“I know what you mean”.
“No you don’t”.
“Yes I know. Look, I’m old enough to be your father. I’ve been a private eye for twenty-five years now. And I have seen many cases like yours. And many people reacting like you do. And what I’ve learned is that it never ends well for them”.
“I don’t mind”.
“You don’t mind?”. he stood up. “You don’t mind having a murder haunting you and your conscience?”.
“No”. I answered honestly.
Marshall stared at me, arms folded on his massive chest.
“Ok, what about this. You find him, you kill him – or you punish him, as you prefer – and then you get arrested. Do you know what that means, child? It means that you’re never going to see Carmen again. Never again. Does that touches you enough?”.