Gene’s smile was weak and bitter.“You already know that.”
“You know who we are?”
Gene looked at Twister’s cut.“Everyone knows who you are.”
“Then you know why we’re here.”
Gene stepped back from the door.“Do I look like a man who has any desire to pretend otherwise?”
Twister didn’t answer.
For a second, nobody moved.
I looked past Gene into the house.Wide entryway.Hardwood floors.Staircase to the left.Living room to the right.Clean.Quiet.
“You alone?”Twister asked.
Gene laughed again.“I’ve been alone for a long time.”
“Not what I asked.”
“Yes,” Gene said.“I’m alone.”
Twister stared him down for another beat before stepping inside.I didn’t like it.I liked even less that Goldie stepped in with me.
The second we crossed the threshold, the smell of stale coffee and old paper hit me.
The house was neat, but it wasn’t lived-in in a comfortable way.It was organized like a man who didn’t know what else to do with his hands.Bookshelves lined the living room walls, full of binders and legal books instead of family pictures.A single leather chair sat angled toward the window.A coffee mug rested on a side table beside a stack of mail.
Just Gene Kettler and the mess he’d spent years helping bury.
Magnum stayed near the open front door, half inside, half out.Swift moved along the wall, checking windows.Hodge stood near the entry, arms crossed, looking like he hoped Gene gave him a reason.Twister stayed in the middle of the room.I kept Goldie close.
Gene shut the door, then looked at it like he was surprised he’d done it.“Sit,” he said.
“No,” Twister replied.
Gene nodded slowly.“Fair.”
His eyes drifted to Goldie again.“You’re the one from City Hall.”
Goldie lifted her chin.“You know me?”
“I know of you.”His gaze sharpened slightly.“You were supposed to stop looking.”
“I didn’t.”
“No.”His mouth twisted.“I noticed.”
My hand flexed at my side.
Gene saw it and lifted one hand weakly.“I’m not threatening her.”
“You’re breathing,” I said.
“Wheels,” Twister said.
Not sharp, just enough.I shut up.
