John Miller - Inside Out

When the door opened, a man in his fifties with a handlebar mustache stepped out from the cab and took the grips of the chair. “I'm Chief Deputy Hank Trammel, Mr. Field. I'll show you upstairs.”

As soon as the chair cleared the doors, Trammel pushed the button. As the door closed he pulled his pistol and held it against his leg, aimed down. Above the second floor, he pressed the button and stopped the cab. “Okay, pal. Who the hell are you?”

The young man in the wheelchair kept his wrists on the tires, but his twisted fists relaxed and the bent fingers straightened. “My name is Sean Devlin.”

“The hell it is. Sean Devlin is a woman.”

“I'm her.”

He reached over with his free hand and placed it on her right breast, hidden under the loose-fitting jacket. He pulled his hand away like he'd touched a hot stove.

She reached up and removed her thick glasses and the watch cap, altering her appearance dramatically. Her slicked-back hair was black.

“I'm a friend of Winter's. He'll tell you.”

“Put your hands behind your back,” he ordered. “I'm going to cuff you until I can find out if you are who you say you are. There are people looking high and low for Sean Devlin. If you're lying to me, you're going to stay in a holding cell for a very long time.”

Keeping the gun in his right hand, Trammel used the other to take out handcuffs and to cuff Sean's wrists behind her. He put his gun away, replaced the cap on her head, and released the cab, which rose to the third floor. When the elevator door opened, he spun the chair around, pushed it out, and rolled it down a wide hallway.

“Is this really necessary? I am Sean Devlin and I came in here under my own steam,” she insisted.

“Disguised and using a false name, Ms. Devlin.”

“I knew Winter would recognize the name Ward Field. The disguise is for my own protection. I'm not a criminal,” Sean said, exasperated.

Trammel stopped at a steel door with a UNITED STATES MARSHALS SERVICE sign on it. He punched a code into a keypad, then opened the door and pushed her chair into a wide hallway. Sean caught flashes of curious faces as he whisked her past an open door. She was rolled through the corner of a large, open space, where a young deputy sat at one of the ten desks.

No sign of Winter anywhere.

Trammel pushed Sean through a door and closed it behind them. He maneuvered the chair around a small conference table on the left, past a couch on the right, and parked her in front of his desk. He sat on the edge and, with crossed arms, stared down at her.

“Will you please uncuff me now?”

“It's policy to cuff felons while they're in here. Did you come here to turn yourself in to Deputy Massey?”

“Turn myself in? For what?” Sean hadn't broken any laws, unless escaping a surveillance team was against the law.

“The FBI issued a felony warrant for your arrest for the murder of five people last night at the Hotel Grand in Richmond, Virginia.”

Sean's mind froze with the sudden realization that the authorities were blaming her for the deaths in Richmond. The hired killers chasing her weren't her only problem-at that moment not even her worst problem. It had never occurred to her that the cops would blame her, the intended victim, for any of the deaths.

Realizing that Trammel was still speaking to her, she tuned him back in. “… interpret your actions as turning yourself in. Every little bit helps.”

“But I didn't kill anyone,” she protested. She knew she had missed hitting both of the women who had been firing at her.

“Killing two U.S. deputy fugitive recovery marshals is a federal crime, and the state of Virginia will charge you for the murders of the three civilians. There's also interstate flight to avoid prosecution.” Trammel picked up a sheet of paper from his desk and held it out for her to see. There was an identikit sketch of her as she had appeared when she had been staying at the hotel. It said that she was being sought for questioning in five homicides and interstate flight to avoid prosecution, just like he'd said.

“Interstate flight to escape execution,” Sean said crisply. God, where is Winter? “How can they accuse me of this?”

“This says you are armed and should be considered dangerous. You armed?”

“I was fully searched at the door. Don't you have faith in the abilities of your security guards? If I were you, I wouldn't, because I'm sitting on an empty gun,” she said, lifting her buttock to expose the weapon.

Trammel put the flyer down and, using two fingers to pinch and lift the weapon by the checkered grips, walked around the desk holding the Smith amp; Wesson out like something poisonous. He opened the chamber and ejected the spent cartridges, then dropped the. 38 onto a manila envelope. He sat down behind the desk and studied Sean from across the cluttered surface. “Did you use this gun in Richmond last night?”

“In self-defense. Look, Winter will understand. He'll believe me. Let me talk to him.”

“You didn't think Deputy Massey wouldn't arrest you, did you? Because if he was here, he would have to.”

“I came to see him because people are trying to kill me. That's why I'm here, dressed like this. They killed the two marshals and two others-not three.” Her mind fought to make a count of the fatalities. Two deputies and two civilians.

“One of the victims was a female bystander killed by an errant shotgun blast. Since she would be alive if you hadn't been shooting it out with the deputies at the time, it's a legitimate charge.”

“I know now that the deputy marshals were there to protect me, but I didn't know they were marshals until the second deputy said so.” She was dangerously close to tears. “The first deputy was already dead by then.”

“So you shot that first deputy thinking he was after you?”

“I didn't shoot anybody. The two killers shot everybody that was shot-except a deputy shot one of the women, who was not a bystander.”

“A female killer?”

“There were two killers. They shot Max and Wire Dog. Max was the hotel manager. Wire Dog-his nickname, I don't know his real name-was a kid who drove a cab. Max did call him Skipper or Skippy-one of them was an older woman who was killed by the marshal with the shotgun-she was shooting at him-he did it on purpose-the other-”

Trammel shook his head skeptically.

“-woman-the younger one who killed the first deputy, killed the second deputy after that-the older of the women shot Max and Wire Dog while we were running to get behind the counter so I don't know-”

“Whoa!” Trammel snapped. “Damn it! Slow down. I feel like I'm riding a bronco. Women killers, cabs, dogs, and who can tell what.”

Sean stared at the frowning chief deputy. She knew she was rattling on like a madwoman.

“Let's do this. Take a deep breath and relax. You just answer my questions, and if I need clarification, I'll let you know.”

“Okay.” Sean had to fight to clear her mind of confusion over the alarming turn of events.

“There were two killers in that hotel who were trying to kill you? And one was a woman. Is that what you're saying?”

“Both of them were women.”

“And the deputies came in when?”

“One deputy came in, and one of the women shot him.”

She replayed the scene in her mind. “I was headed for the door with Wire Dog, leaving town. He had my bag. A deputy, whom I didn't know was a deputy at that point, started in through the door and I thought he was trying to kill me.”

“Why?”

“He drew his gun. Then the younger woman, who was coming toward us, shot him. Wait, the first deputy must have seen her gun and that's why he drew his. I thought he intended to shoot me, but when I looked around, I saw her gun was out and then she shot him. I shot at her after I was behind the counter, but I missed. The older woman shot at Wire Dog and me while we were running. She hit Max and Wire Dog. I fired once at the older one without aiming and missed her.”