David Wiltse - Bone Deep

"Someone's coming," McNeil said eagerly, hopefully. They both could hear the blare of the oncoming horn. The headlights were now flashing from high to low beam, and back to high again. Still holding the gun pointed at McNeil, Tee waved the car on, indicating that it should pass.

But the car skidded to a halt within a few feet of Tee and McNeil, and Becker leapt out. "Don't do it, Tee!"

"John?"

"Put the gun away, Tee, you don't need it on him."

Becker was naked except for his shorts. He walked barefooted across the pavement to stand by his friend. The flesh of his legs looked obscenely white in the headlight beam.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"He called me," Becker said, pointing at the man at Tee's feet.

"McNeil? McNeil called you?"

"He said you were going to kill him."

"He was right." Although Tee looked at Becker when he spoke, his two-fisted grip on the pistol continued to point at his intended victim.

"Put it down, Tee. Put the gun away."

"Do you know what he did?"

"Tell me."

"It's a misunderstanding," McNeil whined. "I didn't do anything, Becker, honest to God."

"Shut up," Becker said. "What did he do, Tee?"

"I didn't do anything, I swear to you…"

Becker kicked McNeil in the nose with his heel, then stepped over so that he stood between McNeil and Tee's gun.

"You're in my way, John."

"Tell me what he did."

"Stand aside."

"Just tell me why you're going to kill him."

"He knows."

Careful not to move enough to alarm Tee, McNeil tried to stanch the flow of blood from his nose into his mouth.

"I don't want to hear it from him. I want you to tell me so that I can understand it."

"I… can't talk about it."

"Okay."

"I have very good reasons."

"Have you ever killed anyone, Tee?"

"Not quite."

It might not be something you want to get into." 'Are you going to move, John?"

"Not unless you're going to shoot me. I wouldn't want to get shot just so you could shoot McNeil."

"I'm not going to shoot you. You haven't got any clothes on. You sleep like that, in your underpants?"

"Sure, how do you sleep?"

"In pajamas," Tee said.

"Seriously? In this heat?"

"Shorty pajamas. The bedroom is air-conditioned… What's the worst thing that could happen if I kill him?"

"You could like it."

"No nonsense about turning me in, federal charges, ruining my life, all that shit?"

"For killing McNeil?" Becker asked. "He was resisting arrest, he was armed and dangerous…"

"I'm not armed," McNeil moaned. Becker kicked backward with his heel, catching McNeil in the mouth. "We could arm him," Becker said. "I can testify to all of this, you wouldn't have legal problems. That isn't the point. The point is, what will it do to you? You're my friend, you're the one I care about. I don't want you to start something you might find you like."

I know I would."

"You don't know that, there's no way that you can know ahead of time-it's not like eating chocolate or learning to square-dance. You just might not be cut out for it. Or worse, you might be."

"This doesn't sound like the course in psychological stress management they teach at the state police academy," Tee said, lowering the gun slightly.

"It's not. I save this lecture for my friends."

"You've got more than one friend?"

"Tee, if you shoot this shithead between my legs, I'll be so scared I'll never forgive you."

Tee lowered the gun until it pointed to the ground. "McNeil, you asshole, stop cringing and get into the cruiser, you're under arrest,"

Tee said.

"What for?"

"Calling a federal officer in the middle of the night," Becker said.

"That, too," Tee agreed. "And Christ, what happened to your face?"

"Becker did it," said McNeil, warily eyeing Tee's holstered gun as he lifted a hand to test his bleeding nose and swollen mouth.

"Charge me with brutality, you ungrateful sonofabitch, and you'll find yourself in an empty field in the middle of the night alone with me. And you won't have time to make a phone call because I won't turn on a siren before I show up, I'll just be there, you understand me?"

"I wasn't going to-"

"Get in the car," Tee said. McNeil slid gratefully into the back of the cruiser. "I'm not going to thank you," Tee said to Becker. "I'm not sure you did me a favor."

Tee stood at the open dfiver's door, his elbows on top of the car. His eyes looked wild in the headlights, his manner disconnected from the scene.

"Tee…" Tee began to shake and then was weeping, loudly, hoarsely, breathing in desperate sobs. He dropped his head to his arms atop the car and tried to muffle his cries.

"It's okay," Becker said, patting him ineffectually on the back.

"I don't know what's wrong with me. I've been doing some awfully strange things lately. If I'm not careful I'm going to get myself into some trouble."

"It's okay, Tee," Becker murmured. "Fuck it is. I stood in the reservoir."

"So what?"

"Up to my neck."

"That's all right."

"It's not all right," he sobbed. "I'm the goddamned chief of police!"

He released what little control he had left and began to sob uncontrollably. Spasms racked him, his shoulders heaved and his face fell to his chest. He covered his face with his hands at first, but after a few moments he did not try to hide anything. He wandered away from the car, crying loudly, and Becker followed his friend helplessly, wondering what to do besides offering the occasional pat on the back. At length Tee came to a stop with his head leaning against a tree. "My baby!" he bayed, in one of the few intelligible sounds that Becker heard. "My baby." The chief had drifted fifty yards away from the cruiser and McNeil seized the opportunity to slip out of the car. Down the road, Tee turned abruptly and pulled his automatic from the holster again. Becker ducked instinctively and Tee fired a round in McNeil's direction. After the previous shot and all the bowling, this report did not seem nearly as loud.

McNeil leapt into the back seat of the cruiser headfirst, then squirmed around to close the door behind him, carefully keeping below the level of the seat backs.

"That was justified," Tee said, his gun hanging limply by his side.

A car approached on the road, slowing as it came abreast of them. Becker waved it past irritably, aware of the ludicrous sight he made, directing traffic in his bikini underpants as the chief of police stood beside him, sniffling. The car pulled to the side and Karen got out. Her service revolver was in the shoulder holster outside of her halter top and she looked more angry than alarmed.

"Oh, hi," said Tee, as casualty as if he had just encountered her at the local shopping center.

"Holster the gun, Tee," she said crisply.

Tee did so without hesitation. "I didn't kill him," he said, sniffing.

"Good. Sorry I'm late. I took the time to get dressed." She looked pointedly at Becker.

Metzger arrived with siren screaming and lights flashing.

"I got a report of gunshots," he said, his voice trailing off as he became aware of Becker's attire. "Everything all right?"

"Outstanding," said Becker.

"John, get in a car," Karen said. "Any car."

"I'm going to drive Tee home," said Becker. "Karen, McNeil is hiding in the back of Tee's cruiser. He fell and landed on his face-he may need medical attention, but I doubt it. Would you mind driving him to the station and slapping him in a cell?"

"McNeil's in the car?" said Metzger. He looked around him in bewilderment. "He's arrested?"

"We're putting him there for his own safe-keeping at the moment," said Becker. "I'll pick you up at the station when I get some clothes on, and we can come back for your car."

Karen nodded. Although Becker's superior at the Bureau, she was not so enamored of her power that she felt obliged to assert it in such a situation. If this was any of the Bureau's business in the first place, it had yet to be demonstrated. She took Becker's arm after he had guided Tee to the passenger seat of his car and spoke to him quietly.