Page 66 of Last Shot

‘Everything I’ve told Maxella is the truth. Do what you think is right.’ Libby rolled her shoulders like she was warming up for a Pilates class.

Fuck this. Grey hadn’t driven for hours with the lying criminal to have her Harley Quinn sidekick talk to him in riddles. ‘I think you just like the sound of your own voice,’ he said. ‘You’re lonely and sad and you don’t give two shits about the Barbaranis, so why would you care if they died?’

‘I don’t wanna owe nobody shit, Mr Barbarani Man. When I get outta here, I’m gonna be a ghost. I don’t want nobody’s debt hanging over me. The La Marcas want the Barbaranis dead, so they send Skinner. I want Skinner underground, so I gotta compromise, don’t I? Can’t have everything we want in this life. Just ask Maxella here, she knows all about—’

‘Lib, that’s enough.’

‘Don’tyoustart getting allcopon my arse, Conrad.’ Libby’s eyes froze to icicles as they glazed over Max. ‘Remember who you are. Remember what you did.’

‘Don’t.’ Max’s voice was steel. Grey wanted Libby to keep going, but at the same time he felt a strange urge to kick her chair over.

Libby leant forward. ‘You’re not a good girl, Conrad. Don’t you get soft on me.’

‘I’m not getting soft. I’m trying to work out how you expect me to stop a murder when you can’t even tell me if it is Skinner who’s going to be pulling the trigger. Not to mention how he’s going to get onto the Barbarani property with all the security.’

Libby waved a hand lazily. ‘He’ll be coming in with the La Marcas.’

‘He won’t,’ Max said. ‘That would be like wearing a neon sign and a giant name tag plastered across his whole body.’

Libby shrugged. ‘Just make sure you got your Plan A and Plan B, Conrad. ’Cause Skinner will have both of those, then some. You remember what I told you ’bout Plan Bs?’

‘Your Plan B is better than your Plan A,’ Max said, like a kid repeating the batshit indoctrinations of a cult, ‘because if you really believed in Plan A—’

‘—you wouldn’t need a Plan B,’ Libby finished, satisfied.

‘I should have asked you before I left,’ Max said quietly, eyes on Libby. ‘I should have asked you why you need me to do this. The truth.’

But she’d been too desperate to get her life back, Grey thought. He’dknownshe was trouble – he’dknownshe was shoot first, ask questions never. But he’d let her in. He’d done it again.

‘We don’t ask “why” here. Fuck, girl, you remember nothing I told ya?’

‘Well, I’m not in here anymore.’ Max said it like she was trying to convince herself.

‘Youfree, are you, Conrad?’ Libby flashed her teeth.

Max shifted in her seat again.

‘Didn’t think so.’

‘Is it because of Rocky? You said Skinner gave him the drugs that night ...’

A storm churned across Libby’s face. Heavy clouds concealing crackling thunder beneath. When she spoke, her voice was deep and husky. ‘You were really listenin’ then, were you? You always were a goody goody. It’s about me. But yeah, parts of it are about Rocky.’ Her words didn’t match her eyes.

Rocky ... Ah.A hazy puzzle piece fell into Grey’s mind. Rocky-Road Johnston, Libby’s son. Grey couldn’t remember much about him except that he was dead.

‘You want Skinner dead because he killed your son?’ Grey asked. Max looked at him in surprise. He couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about what that look meant. He could still smell the fucking apple and cinnamon and would quite happily sacrifice his sense of smell for all of eternity to be rid of this wicked enchantment.

The storm was still shadowed across Libby’s face but she managed to crack a smile – a sliver of pale, watery sunlight seeping through. ‘Somethin’ like that.’

‘This is a waste of time.’ Grey stood. The sound of his plastic chair grated too loud in the unnatural silence of the visitors’ room.

‘Maybe if you just listened’—Libby clicked her tongue— ‘you’ll think different.’

‘Libby, if there’s anything you’re not telling us, anything you’re keeping to yourself because you’re afraid ...’ Max’s concern for this woman did something strange and uncomfortable in Grey’s stomach. A toxic mix of annoyance and awe.

‘Told ya more than I should’ve.’ Libby lifted her chin, sore spotted lips closed like nothing more was coming out.

‘Thank you for your time.’ Grey had never meant anything less in his life.

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