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But right now? I was nervous as all fucking hell. I couldn’t mess this up.
“What’s up? Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I’m actually planning a surprise for Tristan this weekend. He’s been going through so much I figured he deserves something special.”
“How sweet of you,” Steven said, the words coming out like dry cinder blocks, falling with no actual warmth behind them.
I know who you are.
“I’m going around and getting one of his books signed by all his friends. I want to show him how important he is to us. Mind if I stop by and get your signature tonight?”
There. I threw the chum out into the water; now to see if the shark took a bite.
“Ah, damn, I’m not home.”
“That’s fine. I can meet you wherever you’re at.”
A brief pause. Shit. Had I overextended myself?
“Wait, shouldn’t you be at theHamiltonshow right now?”
I looked up at the blinking marquee, the streets empty now that everyone was seated and enjoying the show inside.
“I stepped out. Had to take a call and figured since you live nearby, I could get your signature and be back before the first act is over.”
Another pause. This one wasn’t as brief, but I didn’t try to fill in the silence. Not when that meant stepping directly onto another landmine.
“Cut the shit, Gabriel. You know, don’t you?”
That took me like a surprise uppercut to the jaw. I immediately realized that playing dumb wouldn’t get me anywhere. He dropped the friendly singsongy voice he usually spoke in, his words blunt and direct like a hammer to the skull.
“I do.”
“I was hoping I’d have longer. Damn.”
A confession. I had him. Now I just had to make sure I didn’t lose him.
“Steven—Marlin—we can make this easy. You can agree to turn yourself in, and we can put an end to this saga. We can go that route—”
“Or you can get in the car.”
Just as Steven spoke, a dark black Honda with midnight-tinted windows pulled up right in front of me. The window lowered, and Steven appeared, leaning over an empty passenger seat, phone against his ear.
I should have known he wasn’t far.
“I’m not getting in there,” I said, every one of my professional instincts shouting at me to shoot at the tires. If I blew even just one of them out, then he’d have a very difficult time escaping. But the attention gunshots would draw could be detrimental. The theatre would surely get evacuated, which would mean hundreds and hundreds of people pouring out into the street. It would make it easy for him to slip into the crowd and disappear.
“If you do, then I’ll come clean.”
“You can come clean once you step out of the vehicle,” I said.
“What are you so scared of, Gabriel? You’re twice my size. I don’t have any weapons. I don’t have any plan. I just want this all to be over with.” He lifted his shirt, patted down the pockets of his khaki shorts. “See, I’ve got nothing.”
“Steven, I’m not getting in that car. Get out now before I have to pull you out.” I was getting tired of the games. It had gone on long enough.
“Fine,” he said, but instead of getting out of the car, he put it in park and jumped over to the passenger seat. “You drive. Take me to the police station, then. Take out your gun, too. Go ahead.”
This felt wrong. What was this guy’s angle here?
