Gregg Hurwitz - The Kill Clause

•Bear leaned against his truck, massive arms crossed, eyeing the other four men.

“You don’t motherfuck around with a deputy’s family,” Gutierez was saying. A deferential nod to Bear. “Or a marshal’s.”

Bear didn’t nod back.

Fowler weighed in. “They don’t give a shit anymore. No sense of anything.”

“Amen to that,” Gutierez said.

“It’s like that guy who walked the sarin nerve-gas bomb into the day-care center. Ezekiel or Jedediah or whatever.” Harrison shook his head. “Nothing makes sense anymore. Nothing.”

“How’s Dray doing?” Mac asked. “She all right?”

“She’s tough,” Bear said.

“Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth,” Fowler said.

Gutierez again-“She’s gonna be better once Rack brings her back a little news.”

“You know Tim well?” Bear asked.

The detective shifted his weight from one shoe to the other. “Know of him.”

“Why don’t you leave his nickname to those of us who do?”

“Hey, come on Jowalski,” Mac said. “Tito don’t mean no harm. We’re on the same side, us out here.”

“Are we?” Bear said.

They waited, glancing at the closed garage door, bracing themselves for a gunshot in the silence. The crickets were at it, filling the air with nervous chirping.

Mac wiped his brow with a forearm, though the night was cool. “Wonder what he’s doing in there.”

“He’s not gonna kill him,” Bear said.

The others’ heads swiveled toward Bear, surprised. Fowler wore a shit-eating grin. “You don’t think?”

Bear shifted uncomfortably, then crossed his arms as if to lock down his posture.

“Why wouldn’t he?” Gutierez said.

Bear regarded him with unadulterated disdain. “For one, he’s not gonna want to be yoked to you jackasses for the rest of his life.”

Gutierez started to say something but took note of Bear’s flexed forearms and closed his mouth. The crickets continued to shrill. They all did their best to avoid eye contact.

“Fuck this. I’m gonna get him.” Bear drew himself up off his truck. Beside him even Mac looked small. Bear took a step toward the garage, then stopped abruptly. He lowered his head, eyes on the dirt, frozen between advance and retreat.

•Tim kept the Beretta trained on Kindell’s head, his body still and rigid, a shooter’s outline cut from steel. After a moment his gun arm began to quake. His eyes moistened; two jerking breaths racked his shoulders. With a sudden, stunning certainty, he knew that he would not kill Kindell. His thoughts, absent the focus of the task, pulled back to his daughter. He was overtaken with a sadness so stark and selfish and crushing that it seemed to defy the limits of his heart. It came on fierce and full-powered, like nothing he’d ever confronted. He lowered the gun and bent, fists on thighs, as it throttled through him.

When he regained awareness that he was still drawing breath, he straightened as best he could. “Were you alone?”

The same roll of the head, up, down, up.

Unremitting cramps in Tim’s chest kept him curled into an old man’s arthritic hunch. His voice rasped, weak and uncomprehending, “You just decided…decided to kill her?”

Kindell blinked hard and drew his bound hands over his face like a squirrel grooming. “I wasn’t supposed to kill her.”

Tim’s body snapped upright, his posture firming. “What does ‘supposed to’ mean?” No answer. “Was someone in on this with you?”

“He didn’t-” Kindell stopped, closed his eyes.

“He who? He didn’t what? Someone else helped you kill my girl?” His voice was shaking with fury and desperation. “Answer me, goddamnit. Answer me!”

Kindell remained still, impervious to Tim’s questions, the smooth ovals of his closed eyelids like veined eggs.

•The garage door flew up with a bang, spilling light across the weed-dense grounds. Kindell stumbled out, propelled by Tim’s shove, his hands now cuffed behind him. Tim caught up to him quickly, fisting the chain between the cuffs and pulling it up so Kindell’s arms locked straight behind him. Kindell grimaced but didn’t cry out.

Bear and the others silently watched them approach. As Tim neared, Kindell tripped and went down, his knees and chest taking the shock of the ground. His grunt sounded like a bark.

Kindell struggled to stand up. He bore no bruises or signs of punishment. “You asshoe. You uckin’ asshoe.”

“Better watch your mouth,” Tim said. “I’m your best friend right about now.”

Bear exhaled in a low, cheek-puffing rumble.

Fowler glowered at Tim like a woman scorned. Gutierez and Harrison looked equally displeased.

“Can we have a second here?” Fowler said, the skin tight around his jaw.

Tim nodded, then followed the three men a few paces away from Mac and Bear.

“He’s a piece-of-shit motherfucker,” Fowler hissed.

Tim said, “No argument here.”

Fowler spit a brown stream into the brush. “You’re gonna let pieces of shit like this run loose in our town?”

Tim looked at him with a steady gaze until he turned away.

“What the fuck, Rackley? We were doing you a favor here.”

Gutierez smoothed his mustache with a thumb and forefinger. “This guy just killed your daughter. How can you not want to cap his ass?”

“I’m not a jury.”

“I bet Dray would have another opinion on the matter.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Juries suck,” Fowler said. “I don’t trust the courts.”

“Then move to Sierra Leone.”

“Listen, Rackley-”

“No, you listen.” Ten yards away Bear’s and Mac’s heads snapped to attention. “There’s an ongoing investigation here that you may have just fucked up in your eagerness to tie things up neatly.”

Harrison weighed in from above crossed arms. “It’s an open-and-shut.”

“He didn’t kill her alone.”

Gutierez blew air out through clenched teeth. “What the fuck is this?”

“Someone else was in on it.” Tim’s hand was jiggling back and forth, thumb tapping his thigh.

“He didn’t tell us that.”

“Well, then, it looks like you’ve exhausted your bag of detective tricks.”

Bear walked over, his boots creaking, leaving Mac with Kindell. He scowled at the others, standing protectively at Tim’s side. “Everything all right?”

“Your boy here is looking to complicate matters that aren’t complicated.” Gutierez glared at Tim. “You’re being emotional.”

“That’s for sure.”

“How do you know there was someone else involved?” Gutierez jerked his head at Kindell, still lying prone on the ground. “What did he say?”

“He didn’t say anything outright-”

“Nothing outright,” Harrison said. “A hunch, huh?”

Bear’s voice issued so low Tim felt it in his bones. “You’d better mind your fucking mouth after what he’s been through tonight.”

Harrison’s smirk vanished instantly.

“This is precisely why we don’t kill people without a trial.” Tim regarded the three men. “Call CSU. Start your investigation. Gather evidence.”

Fowler was shaking his head. “This is a fucking mess. Kindell heard us talking. Planning this out.”

Gutierez made a leveling gesture with his hands. “It’s fine. We’ll move forward with standard procedure. If the scumsuck wants to whine to the public defender, it’ll be his word against ours.” He glared at Tim and Bear. “All of ours.”

Tim debated informing Gutierez that the last thing he intended to expend energy on this night was Gutierez’s anxiety, but he didn’t want to give anything up to him.

Behind them Mac helped Kindell to his feet.

“You were never here,” Harrison said. “We stick together on this, no matter what.”