Page 149 of Hot Shot

The click of the safety is deafening.“Admit it!”

A dark spot spreads on the front of the guy’s pants, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

“Tell the truth!”Trent jabs the gun, and the landlord flinches, curling in on himself.

He’s crying when he shakily whispers, “I-I didn’t know she was here.”

Shock floods me, and I lean on the wall to steady myself, but I stumble into it, knocking a piece of sheetrock off a pile.

Their heads whip in my direction along with the muzzle of Trent’s gun. His eyes are ringed with white, his jaw set and teeth locked.

My hands slowly rise, palms out. “It’s me,” I say stupidly.

“Davenport?” he asks, confused.

“Yeah. I saw your truck and?—”

The landlord takes the window of distraction and tries to scuttle away, but in a heartbeat, Trent arches around to pistol whip him.

He hits the ground with a cry and thud.

My mouth is so dry, I can’t swallow. But I approach slow. “I heard what he said.”

Nostrils flaring, he’s still staring at the landlord rolling around in the ashes. “I told you I didn’t do it.” It’s a quiet, trembling declaration. “Tell me everything.”

Groaning, the man holds his nose with both hands.

Trent’s pistol angles at his face. “Tell…me…everything.”

“Trent—”

He doesn’t even look at me. “Shut the fuck up, Davenport. I want you to hear this too.Get up!” he screams at the landlord, who finds a way to at least sit up.

The older man is sobbing, his body sloped and eyes on the silvery dust. “I thought she left with you,” he says as I advance slowly, hands still up. But Trent is rapt, listening with his entire body as I pray that the police are close. “Y’all were fighting, andthen it was quiet, and I thought she left with you. I knew the girl was gone, and so I… I…”

“Say it!”

He cries out, flinching, nearly yelling in his panic. “I didn’t know what else to do! I thought no one was home, so I… I s-snuck around from the other street and I, I started the fire in the back yard up next to the house! I didn’t know she was there!I didn’t know!” Over and over again, he says it as he crumples in on himself.

“You killed her.” Trent’s eyes are full of tears when he looks to me. “He killed her. And now everybody’s going to know.” His left hand shifts to his jacket pocket, returning with his phone, showing that it’s recording audio.

The landlord is blubbering, his cheek scuffed and nose bleeding.

“Do you believe me now?”

I lock eyes with him, advancing still. “I believe you.” I’m almost in reach of the gun, though I’m not sure if I’m going to try and take it yet.

Relief breaks something in him, and his chin flexes. “He killed her,” he says again, stricken. Anger hardens in him when he looks back to the landlord, and the muzzle of the pistol rises again as if he suddenly remembered it in his hand. “You killed her.”

“I’m sorry,” the man whimpers. “P-please don’t kill me.”

“Trent.” I take another step. If I’m close enough, I can disarm him. “He admitted it. You got what you needed—he’s going to pay for what he did.”

“Yeah. Yeah, he’s gonna,” he grinds out, eyes still pinning the man where he kneels.

“Think about Cricket.”

He hears that, stilling. When he looks at me, I catch a glimpse of him behind his wild eyes.

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