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“Oh well. Life’s a bitch, and then you die.”
“Some people do, apparently.”
“Some people do. Apparently.”
There was a long pause before I spoke again.
“Not a fuckin’ hair on her head, Lou,” I warned.
“Twenty-four hours. That’s all you get.”
“That’s all I need,” I said before I hung up.
Kade looked at me. “Am I going to be protecting her and tailing her?”
“Maybe. But for right now, let’s get this shit over with.”
37
Next was the police station.
Peters came out personally to greet us.
“Your guy alright?” he asked.
His concern would have been touching if I couldn’t hear the insincerity in his voice.
That and the sound of dollar signs.
“He’ll make it,” I said.
“Benjamin… what’s his last name?”
“Davis. No offense, but can we get this over with? We’re both exhausted.”
“Of course. I’ve got you with Detective Guzman in Room One, and you,” he said to Kade, “you’re with Detective Wright in Two.”
I went into the interview room with Guzman, an overweight 50-something itching for retirement.
The interview was bullshit, held purely to make it look like they had done their due diligence. I was out in 15 minutes.
Kade got out a few minutes later.
“That quick, huh?” I asked. “Even though you were one of the shooters?”
“They said it was an open-and-shut case of self-defense.”
“Well, at least they got that part right. They even take your gun for evidence?”
“Yeah.”
“You got another?”
From the twitch in the corner of his mouth, I knew he found that hilarious. “I got a lot of ‘anothers.’ What do you want me to do now?”
“Go home and get some sleep. Wait for my call.”
“You don’t need me to tail Fiona?”
