Marcus Sakey - The Blade Itself

Somehow everything had ended up backward and upside down. Evan was free and holding all the cards, while Danny was in jail and helpless. Frustration rattled through him, and he dropped on the bench, head in hands. How had this all happened? Just a few weeks ago he’d been lying on a different bench with his head in Karen’s lap. That day at the zoo, a million years ago, sunlight filtering through the trees. They had talked about having children, and he’d let himself wonder if such a thing was possible.

It seemed absurd that his entire life could be ripped away so quickly.

The bare wooden bench felt oddly comfortable, and he had the urge to lie down and close his eyes. Give it all up. Quit this unwinnable fight. What would be the harm at this point? Evan would go through with the exchange and vanish, and that would be that.

After all of this, you’re going to lie to yourself? You know that if you don’t stop this, Tommy and Richard are dead.

He shot upright. Was that true?

He thought of Patrick on a lonely morgue slab. Imagined the poor citizen in the parking lot, murdered for bad timing.

Evan had killed twice in the month he’d been out of prison. Why stop now, especially when with a few more squeezes of the trigger he could assure that no one came after him?

Bile burned his throat. Danny got to his feet, walked to the door, raised one fist, planning to bang on it and demand his release. Caught himself. If he played this wrong, he’d spend the next two days sitting here, while Evan finished the job and disposed of the evidence. It wouldn’t matter if the cops found out about the kidnapping – he’d have the blood of two more innocents on his hands regardless.

He had to be careful. If Nolan had anything on him, he’d trot it out soon enough. Otherwise, this was a fishing expedition. If that was the case, he might be able to talk his way out of here in time to prevent more violence.

He turned and began pacing again, counting his steps and trying to focus.

Thirty minutes passed before he felt a tingling on the back of his neck, a subconscious warning. He scanned the room, the walls, the door. There. The peephole was dark. Someone was looking in at him. He turned, his hands at his sides.

“I’d like to make a phone call, please.” He used his citizen voice.

There was a moment of silence, and then the scrape of a bolt being drawn, and the door opened. Nolan stepped into the door frame, his posture calm. The other detective stood beside him. He’d taken off his fedora.

“Calling your lawyer?”

“Calling my girlfriend.” He smiled, shrugged. “Karen was expecting me home. Don’t want her to worry.”

Nolan smiled, playing the game. “Sure. Detective Matthews, would you take Mr. Carter to make his phone call?”

Matthews nodded, and put one hand on Danny’s arm, his grip firm but civil.

“And when he’s done, could you bring him into Interview One?” Nolan made it sound like he was asking Danny in for coffee.

The detective guided him out of the bank of holding cells and down the hall, keeping the grip on his arm. For a moment, Danny imagined throwing him off, making a break for it, but rejected the idea immediately. That was panic, and that he couldn’t afford.

Matthews sat him down at an officer’s desk, a black fabric half-cubicle. He cuffed Danny to the chair, gestured to the phone, and stepped across the aisle to chat with a guy in a suit.

He dialed carefully, trying to collect his thoughts. One call to Karen to let her know what had happened. The phone rang. Then he had to convince Nolan that he didn’t know anything useful, and do it fast. The phone rang. If they didn’t have anything on the kidnapping, it would just be about Patrick. The phone rang.

Where was Karen? She had said she’d wait by the telephone.

The machine clicked on, his own voice playing back at him. He felt his pulse quicken. Had she panicked? That wasn’t her style, but he was supposed to have called hours ago. She might have come looking for him, wanting to help.

The machine beeped, and he spoke loudly. “Karen? Karen, pick up.” There was a crackle and a click as the machine cut off. “Thank God. Karen, listen-”

“Partner.”

Evan.

Danny’s stomach fell, and he gripped the phone with white knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” Evan continued, “Karen can’t come to the phone. She’s tied up, if you know what I mean.”

Danny’s heart beat against his chest like a wild animal trying to free itself from a snare. “I’m warning you-”

“Shut up, you arrogant prick.” The playful tone dropped from his voice. “She’s okay. But you just be very careful what you say to our friends, huh?”

It all fell together. Somehow Evan must have known that he’d been brought in for questioning. This was his way of making sure Danny didn’t bring down the police. He forced himself to breathe. “I understand.”

“Good boy. Gotta go.”

And then the phone went dead.

Oh God . The unthinkable had somehow gotten worse. He didn’t buy Evan’s deal for a second. There was no way he’d let Karen go, not now. He’d almost certainly kill Tommy and Richard, and they were far less dangerous to him. If Danny couldn’t stop him, Evan would leave three bodies in his wake.

One of them hers.

Detective Matthews stepped over and looked at Danny inquisitively. “Bad news?”

For a moment, Danny thought of confessing everything, telling him the whole story and enlisting the cops’ aid. But then he remembered the easy speed with which Evan had put his pistol against Tommy’s forehead. The risk was too great. The police would only make things worse.

He was the only hope Karen and the others had.

Danny looked up, let his breath out. Made himself smile. “Nah. You know women.” He hung up the phone, hoping the detective didn’t notice his finger shaking. “You guys ready for me?”

The two-way glass between them dimmed Danny’s features, but even so, he looked pretty calm to Nolan. Danny sat at the table, cuffs off, glancing around the room with just the right blend of interest and discomfort. Acting the citizen.

“How do you want to do this?” Matthews asked.

“I’ll start alone.” Nolan straightened his tie, fingers feeling as clumsy as usual. Every morning Mary-Louise tied him a perfect half-Windsor – it was part of her morning ritual, a domestic incantation to bring him home safe – but by day’s end, the knot had usually degenerated into a lumpy half-hitch.

“You know, the dude seems awfully cool. You sure he’s dirty?” Matthews asked.

Nolan smiled. “Your experience, how’s somebody done nothing wrong react when you put the cuffs on?”

“They start telling me I don’t need them.”

“Exactly.” Nolan made a final tug at his tie. “Danny, he just turned around and stuck out his wrists.” He shot his cuffs, stepped out of the observation room, and opened the door to the interview room.

Danny glanced up at him with a bland smile, but Nolan kept his own expression neutral as he took measured steps to the table. He stood for a moment sizing Danny up, letting the silence draw out a few seconds longer than was comfortable. Finally he pulled out a chair.

“So,” he said, “I’m obligated to remind you that you can have counsel here if you like.”

“Do I need it?”

Nolan shrugged. “I just want to ask you a few questions.”

“This is about Patrick?” Danny’s voice caught slightly, and the sadness that flickered across his face seemed real enough.

“Mostly.”

“I can’t believe what happened. We’re still shocked. If there’s anything I can do to help, I’d be glad to.”