So the question becomes: Who wants it more?
Me.
“Take me to him,” I demand.
I don’t give him another moment. We’re already drawing too much attention. I start off the dance floor, and Nelson’s hand slips into mine. “So we don’t get separated,” he says.
The cool night air is a strange comfort as I push outside. The chill chases away some of the sickly dread festering inside that the heat of the club allowed to thrive. I remove my hand from Nelson’s grip as I start down the steps.
“Your phone, London.”
Without turning around, I dig my cell from my suit pocket and hand it to him from over my shoulder. “Is healive?”
The question leaves behind a sour aftertaste. I squeeze my eyes closed.
I hear the distinct crunch of my phone beneath his boot. Then the former agent moves in front of me. In the dim glow of the streetlight, I discern the scratches I put on his face. Now faint and healed over, but they’re there. He notices my inspection with an irritated scowl.
I smile. “Everyone has scars, Nelson. It’s what defines us.”
Without a rebuttal, he forces me to walk. We’re heading in the same direction, following the exact path I took once before. I know he’s going to turn the corner into the alley before he directs my course down the darkened lane between the buildings.
“Being on the run from the authorities…” I hedge. “You’re really taking this copycat thing to the next level.”
Still no response.
“Why do you do it, Nelson? For the rush? For the sheer satisfaction of outsmarting the Feds?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Understand is what I do. Try me.” When he remains silent, I add, “I know about your family. What happened to them.”
“You don’t know anything,” he snaps, driving a hand through his unkempt hair.
“Then explain it to me. Make me understand.”
He chuckles, incensed. “You’re so fucking annoying.” Only he delves into his story. “I was working a case,” he says. “I should’ve been there. But this perp… With all the regulations and red tape, I couldn’t bring him in. So I had to sit on him, and wait. Just wait for him to make a move so I could catch him in the act. I thought I couldn’t live with myself if he killed another girl while I wasn’t looking.”
I slow my steps, and Nelson matches my pace.
“I was wrong. I found out that what I couldn’t live with wasthe guilt of not being there for my wife. For my little baby son. Had I been there, that accident never would’ve happened.”
“You don’t know that. You can’t.”
“Oh, but I can. I know that if I’d been there, she never would’ve been driving late at night to get medicine for him. I would’ve been behind that wheel, not her. So when it comes to the ‘bad guys’—” he makes mocking air quotes “—I no longer dick around. If I know you’re guilty, you’re mine. No time wasted on protocol.”
I look at him. “No matter how far you have to go to catch the bad guy. No matter how many victims?—”
“As far as I’m concerned, I did the world a favor. I’m a hero. Every one of my victims had a rap sheet a mile long. Scum of the earth. They had it coming, and now the world is better for their absence.”
Delusions of grandeur. Only Nelson isn’t the hero of this piece. He can’t be.
“You used your inside connections with the FBI to target victims,” I say, analyzing. “Sloppy.”
He scoffs. “You’re one to talk, doctor death.”
I eye him from my periphery. “How did you know about the Blue Clover?”
Silent, he strolls down the alley clad in a white T-shirt and jeans, so different than the put-together FBI agent I remember. He strolls like we’re just two people on a walk. No worries. No malice between us.
