Chad awoke (for
the second time in twenty-four hours) handcuffed to a hospital bed. He stared
at the pregnant cop who sat across from him.
Agent Teller wore
a black suit with an elastic lower half. Chad never suspected such an outfit
existed.
Teller’s blue eyes
drilled cold holes through him. “You murdered your nephew as well as Detective Redwood.”
“Qasim promised to
burn Matthew to death,” Chad explained. “I thought he would die either way. If
you and your agency moved a bit quicker . . .”
“Don’t pin you ignorance
on me,” Teller said. “Redwood worked for my department. His mission was to get
recruited by Qasim and gather intelligence. We wanted Qasim’s boss, who’s in
Russia right now, screaming for your blood.”
Chad’s forehead
throbbed. “Why would Internal Affairs chase after a Russian mobster?”
“Because Redwood
and I aren’t Internal Affairs. We’re CIA.” She allowed Chad a moment to digest
this. “That’s why Redwood tried to steer you away from Qasim. He didn’t want
your interference.”
“Why didn’t you
just tell me that?” Chad asked.
She glared at him.
“Right,” Chad
said. “Not my business. Need-to-know. Blah. Blah.” He felt a pathetic desire to
cry. “Redwood was an ass.”
“Detective Redwood risked his life to
save yours,” Teller said. “You repaid his heroism with a bullet.”
Chad’s mind
flashed back to the loose handcuffs that Redwood fastened around Chad’s wrists,
back in the airplane hangar. Chad recalled the way that Redwood “accidently”
allowed Chad to take his pistol.
Redwood couldn’t
have known if Qasim would leave him alone with Chad and Matthew,
so he prepared Chad for the possibility of a gunfight.
“You’re going down
for two counts of murder in the first degree.” Teller stood, headed for the
door. “One against a child. One against a cop. Qasim’s boss? Her people will
find you in prison. Your life isn’t worth squat.”
Chad marveled at
her cold manner. She knew he never
intended to hurt his nephew or an honest police officer. “I’m sorry about
Detective Redwood.” He made damn sure to pronounce the man’s title.
She paused at the
door. “Actually, it was Special Agent Redwood.
He would’ve made a good father.” She left.
Chad watched her
disappear.
He told himself to
remain calm, and then he realized he already felt perfectly calm. Delayed
panic? He imagined it would arrive. Perhaps when the jury found him guilty.
Perhaps when he first heard his prison cell slam shut behind him.
He glanced towards
the open doorway, where Melissa suddenly stood.
The cancer, over
the last few days, ate away at her. Her face looked skeletal. The grief in her
eyes stung Chad.
She lost
everything in a handful of days. Her husband. Her son. Soon, she would lose her
life.
“Melissa. I’m so
sorry.”
She lifted a hand
that pled for silence. She checked over her shoulder, ensured that no one stood
within earshot of her, and stumbled towards his bed.
Chad swallowed.
“How did you sneak in here?” He imagined that cops surrounded the
building.
She offered a sad,
broken smile. “Don’t I look like someone who ought to be in a hospital?” She
leaned over the bed’s short rail. Her pale eyes searched Chad’s own. “All I
wanted was the prostitute’s name.”
Chad blinked. “You
. . . knew?”
She produced a
cynical, short-lived chuckle. “I’m not an idiot.”
Something
unpleasant squirmed in Chad’s stomach. “You just played stupid to manipulate
me?”
“I wanted you to
get the whore’s name,” Melissa whispered. “I wanted to know it before I died.”
Chad closed his
eyes. “And here I thought you wanted your husband’s killer brought to justice.”
She smacked him.
Her weak, meatless hand failed to harm him, but it earned his attention. His
eyes opened. He stared at her, noticed the strange expression on her face.
She leaned closer,
whispered directly into his ear. “Qasim didn’t murder my disloyal husband.”
Confusion swept
over Chad. “Then who . . . ?”
He understood.
She straightened,
kept her voice low. “I sat at home, fed my life to cancer, while David met with a hooker. I suppose I didn’t react very well. Now, we all pay for
David’s sins. Matthew, me, you. We all fall down.”
She turned to
leave.
Chad’s wide eyes
watched her retreat.
He wondered how
long he would last in prison, before the Russians found him.
The End.
I publish my blogs as follows:
Tuesdays: A look at the politics of
the entertainment world at EntertainmentMicroscope.blogspot.com.
Wednesdays: An inside look at my
novels (such as Daughters of Darkwana, which you can now find on Kindle) at
Darkwana.blogspot.com
No comments:
Post a Comment