David Liss - The Ethical Assassin

I tried to wiggle, but it hurt too much, and my hands felt like overfilled hot-water bottles, ready to burst. I wondered if the cuffs were going to do any permanent damage, and I wondered if permanent damage was even something I needed to be concerned about. Just what were the chances that I would have the opportunity, say, ten years from now, to rub my wrists and think that the old cuff injury was acting up again?

Where the hell was Melford? Surely he would take a little time off from tending to the livestock to come back to rescue me. Melford would not be intimidated by a little thing like going up against a policeman. He had removed himself from the ideological state apparatus, or so he claimed, so he would have no compunction about sneaking up on a cop and bashing in his head. That’s what I was hoping, because I also had to wonder if Melford would take advantage of the opportunity and leave me holding the bag for everything that had happened.

I looked out the window and saw Doe walking slowly, legs wide like an old-time cowboy, toward the barn. Was Melford still in there, making clucking noises while casting hog chow to diseased pigs? Or was he at that moment planning a covert attack? Had he covered himself with leaves and twigs and taken a slow crawl along the ground so he could leap up and slit the cop’s throat?

I didn’t want to be party to another murder, particularly a policeman’s murder. Though I was now well convinced that Doe was the kind of guy who needed killing, the kind of person I would gladly sacrifice to save a dog of even moderate bravery, I still had more significant qualms about murder than Melford did. I sure as hell didn’t want to be a fugitive from a cop killing. Doe could be a baby raper, but if he was killed, every cop in the world would pursue the murderer with unceasing rage.

All of that became irrelevant, because just then I saw another cop car coming down the dirt road and out of the thick of pine trees. That meant Melford was now outnumbered. Doe had backup, and the cops back at their station knew about the call. If something happened to these guys, we would be world-class fugitives.

Then I noticed something about the second cop car. It wasn’t navy blue like Doe’s; it was brown. Instead of CITY OF MEADOWBROOK GROVE along the side, it had GROVE COUNTY SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT. I glanced over at Jim Doe, who had also turned to look at the car, and even from the distance I could see him mouth a single syllable. It looked a lot like “Shit.”

Doe started power-walking back to his car, one arm swinging hard, one hand pressed to the crown of his hat to keep it from falling off. The brown sheriff’s department car pulled directly in front of Doe’s, and a woman came out, dressed in an unflattering brown uniform.

It was hard to say what might have been flattering on her. She wasn’t ugly, but she was stocky and rugged, with a mannish build and a slightly flattened-looking face. Her short, walnut-brown hair was pulled back into a sensible ponytail- the sort that wouldn’t get in your face while hopping fences and darting into alleys in pursuit of bad guys.

She glanced at Doe and then into the back of Doe’s car, making eye contact with me for a moment. She then reached into her own car to pull out her radio mike.

“Hold up there,” I could hear Doe say, though his voice was muted by the glass of the car. With one hand still on his hat, he speed-waddled toward her. “Let’s just hold up a second.”

The woman put the mike back. I suspected that it might have been a bad move, but I wasn’t about to start shouting or knocking on the window with my skull. I couldn’t even decide if the presence of this new, potentially uncrooked cop was good news or bad news.

“No need to call in nothing,” Doe said, slightly winded from his jog. He offered a smile certainly meant to be friendly, but it looked grotesque to me. “What’s the hurry, Aimee?”

She glanced at me. I tried to plead with my eyes. “What the fuck is going on here?”

“I don’t like it when a lady swears,” he told her.

“What are you, my minister? I don’t give a rat’s shit bag puss fuck tit what you like. I want to know what’s going on here.”

“Got me a trespasser,” Doe said. “That’s all. Maybe more than one. Still got to check out the grounds. And this here is Meadowbrook Grove’s jurisdiction, not to mention my own personal property. So if you don’t mind staying out of our business, I promise not to stick my nose in yours.” He unveiled another grin. “Nope, I won’t stick nothing in your business.”

She met his gaze. “Jim, you know perfectly well you can’t order a county cop out of a municipality, and if I think you might be up to something, I can have a look around. It’s a little something called ‘probable cause’- a concept pretty well-known among cops. And let me tell you, that sad-looking boy in your car, licking the snotty blood off his face, gives it to me.”

Doe turned away from her, pressed one finger to his left nostril, and blew out a wad of snot onto the ground. “You want to play hardball with me, sugar?”

“What I want is to know what’s going on. So how about you stop jerking me around.”

“Maybe you want to jerk me around a little?” Before the county officer could speak, Doe let out an exasperated sigh and pointed toward the hog lot. “I came to check on my property, and I happened to notice this suspicious-looking fellow prowling around, looking to break in, I guess. What should I have done? Called the police?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “That’s what you should have done. Get him out of that car.”

“I don’t much like the tone of your voice.”

“You’re not going to like the tone of the county jail, either. Get him out of there.”

He put his hands on his hips. “What crawled up you? Is this because I forgot Jenny’s birthday? Is that what this is about? Because if Pam told you to give me a hard time about that, why, that’s nothing but harassment, is what that is. I might file me a complaint.”

“You don’t want to play it this way.”

“I don’t understand why you folks at County don’t have more respect for your fellow law enforcement officers from other jurisdictions.”

“We have plenty of respect for other law enforcement officers,” she told him. “We just don’t respect you. Get him out of there now, unless you want me to radio for backup. Because if that happens, things are going to get ugly.”

“It got ugly the minute you showed your face,” Doe mumbled.

He opened the door and yanked me out, sending another wave of pain through my arms. “Don’t make me mad,” he whispered, hardly more than a hot breath, into my ear. “Don’t think for a second you’re getting away with anything. I know who you are, boy.”

The other cop gave me an appraising, almost sympathetic, once-over. I couldn’t figure out my move. Cops were no longer my friends, but I had to believe that she would be a better bet than Jim Doe, a better bet by a long stretch. Frankly, at that moment I believed I’d be willing to face charges and trial and testify against Melford if I could get away from Jim Doe. Maybe not very loyal, but I hadn’t seen Melford running to my rescue, and I wouldn’t be involved in any of this if Melford hadn’t killed Bastard and Karen for reasons he still wasn’t talking about.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” swore the county cop, looking at my bloodied nose.

“I found him that way,” Doe said.

She ignored him. “What’s your name, son?” she asked, even though she was still in her twenties, possibly even early twenties, and had no business calling me “son.”

“Lem Altick.” No point in lying when she could, and certainly would, pull my license.