Page 103 of There is No Devil

Then, at the very edges of my hearing, through a break in the song, I catch his booming voice saying, “Let me get you another drink.”

Shaw parts ways from the redhead, first heading toward the bar, but then altering course to slip around the corner of the ornate plaster pillars leading into the theater.

Got you, motherfucker.

The trout is chasing after the bait, mouth wide open. I can’t wait for him to swallow the lure before I slip in the hook.

Shaw follows Mara out the double doors.

I leave the opposite way, heading toward the glowing movie screen, then pushing my way through the emergency exit into the alley behind the theater.

I don’t have to follow Mara because I already know where she’s going.

So intent am I on sprinting ahead of her, that I don’t realize I’m not alone in the alleyway. I hear the click of a safety coming off. Then the voice of Officer Hawks ordering, “Don’t fucking move.”

I turn slowly, already knowing I’ll be staring down the barrel of a gun.

Hawks is still dressed in his rented tux, though he’s lost the bow-tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons. His glasses are slightly askew, the eyes behind them bloodshot with lack of sleep and at least one or two glasses of EBA champagne.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I say, trying for boredom in my tone. Unable to hide the edge of tension running underneath. I don’t have time for this—I don’t have time for any delay at all.

Hawks doesn’t give a fuck about my plans.

He’s here to ruin them.

“Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” he barks. “I’m arresting you,”

Fuck fuck FUCK!

“You can’t arrest me,” I sneer. “You have no warrant and no probable cause.”

“Turn around,” Hawks hisses through his teeth, “Or I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.”

FUCK!

I turn slowly, trying to buy time as my mind races.

My options are few.

“Mara just left the party,” I tell him. “Shaw is following her. He’s going to kill her.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Hawks barks, coming up behind me. I hear the clink of metal as he pulls out his cuffs.

The urge to yank my hands away, to fight him, is overwhelming. But he’s closing the manacle around my wrist one-handed while he keeps his gun shoved against my side.

He frisks me roughly, finding the knife in my pocket.

“What’s this?” he crows. “Looks like probable cause to me. Can’t wait to run that through analysis.”

I want to slam the crown of my head against the bridge of his nose. I’m dying to do it.

Does he really think I’m stupid enough to carry a murder weapon around in my pocket?

I mean … one I’ve already used.

“We have to get to Mara!” I snap. “I can show you where they’re going.”

“Shut UP,” Hawks hisses, jamming the barrel between my ribs. “I want to shoot you. I’m fucking itching to do it. Just give me a reason.”

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