Page 3 of Perfect Harmony

“I’m not,” Preacher said, but he wouldn’tlook Gideon in the eye.

“Preacher, what -”

“Drop it, Gideon,” Preacher said.

Gideon turned back around. He hadn’t beena cop for all that long, but he’d already started to develop that tingling atthe base of his skull that his partner, a twenty-five-year veteran namedMaurice, referred to as ‘cop sense’.

The tingle was there now. So strong thatit made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Preacher was lying to him.He didn’t know why Preacher was lying, but he had a bad fucking feeling aboutit.

* * *

“Tell me something.” Maurice glanced athim as he stopped at a red light.

“What’s that?” Gideon scanned the emptystreet around them. It was almost three in the morning and anyone out at thistime of the night would be suspicious.

“How many ladies you get just because ofthose weird eyes of yours?”

Gideon laughed. “Knock it off, Maurice.”

“I’m serious. I’m fifty-two years old, andI’ve never met anyone with two different coloured eyes before. To tell you thetruth, a guy with one blue eye and one green eye freaks me out a little, but I imaginethe ladies go crazy for it. What’s it called again? The condition you have?”

“It’s called heterochromia and it’s not acondition. You make it sound like I have some sort of disease for God’s sake,”Gideon said with another laugh.

Maurice just shrugged. “The ladies like itthough, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Gideon admitted.

“Knew it. Ain’t none of the ladies evertake a second gander at my eyes. Guess that’s what happens when they’re shitbrown in colour.” Maurice stepped on the gas when the light turned green.

“You starting to regret taking the extra shift?”Maurice turned left and cruised down the quiet and empty street.

“No.”

“You missed out on poker night.” Mauricescanned the street as he drove.

“Probably a good thing. The guys weregetting tired of me taking their money,” Gideon said.

Maurice grunted out a laugh. “More likethe ex-con taking their money.”

“The ex-con has a name.”

“What the hell kind of name is Preacheranyway?” Maurice said. “Sure as shit, he’s no fucking choir boy. I don’tcare how good he’s been since he paroled out.”

Gideon frowned when Maurice pulled over andparked. “What are you doing?”

Maurice jerked his thumb to a car acrossthe street. “Speak of the choir boy himself.”

Gideon squinted in the darkness. The car wasparked well away from the puddle of light the streetlamp cast on the ground,but he still recognized Preacher. A man his size was hard not to recognize.

“What the fuck is he doing just sittingthere?” Maurice said.

“I don’t know. I’ll find out.” Gideonopened the car door as Maurice settled back in the driver’s seat, alreadyreaching for his phone. The sound of the Candy Crush music drifted out ofMaurice’s phone and Gideon climbed out quickly, shutting the door to muffle theannoying music.

He crossed the street, tugging at his vestand turning his radio down. He stopped in front of the driver’s door.Preacher, his big hands gripping the steering wheel, stared grimly out thewindshield. After a moment, Gideon rapped on the window. When Preacher didn’trespond, he rapped again. “Open up, Preacher.”

Preacher rolled down the window. “Hey.What are you doing here?”

“What areyoudoing here?” Gideonsaid.

---