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“Or even lights.”
“Ohhhhh!” This time his trembles are from elation, the way they should be. “That’s gonna be so cool!”
“Can you also sing me your favorite Christmas songs?” He flops down on the ground beside me. “At the top of your lungs? The loudest you can. We’re talkin’ Mrs. Claus can hear youallllllthe way at The North Pole!”
“Sure!”
Oakley immediately begins screeching, sound equally ear splittingly hurtful as it is helpful.
“That’s better,” I mutter prior to dragging my foot the length of the assailant’s leg to step on the bullet wound. The instant it’s there, I forcefully push it into the sidewalk, not with the intention to break it, but the acceptance that shit happens if it ends up that way. “This’ll help stop the bleeding for now,young man.”
The male unhappily whines again.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen next.” My pistol stays pointed at his face. “I’mgonna ask you some questions, andyou’regonna give me some answers. Understood?”
“I’m gonna bleed to death!”
“Not if you answer in a timely fashion.” Horror hops into his eyes, encouraging my crooked smirk to return. “You lie to me? And I’m gonna stomp on your leg.Tryto lie to me? And I’m gonna stomp on your leg. Lie byomittin’somethin’? And I’m gonna stomp on your leg. Keep me away from my family any longer by wastin’ my time?” Grating my heel back and forth across the open wound has him shouting so loud I almost can’t hear the kid’s mangled Mariah Carey impression. “And I’ll turn you into a partridgehungfrom a pear tree.”
His throat noticeably quivering acts as my signal to begin.
“Name?”
“Jeremy. Jeremy Howard.”
“Was this a special-order shoppin’ trip?”
His eyebrows pull together in obvious confusion.
Alright.
So, this wasn’t someone on the Black Market looking for a specific child to make their own.
“I’ll take that to mean no.”
There isn’t even time for his mouth to twitch in response.
“Was this a harvest order?”
New waves of disgust dart through his glare. “What the fuck is wrong with you, man?”
Me?
Like I’m the one snatching up children in department stores on Christmas Eve?
“People don’t do that shit!”
“They do it all the time. Harvesting children’s organs isn’t as lucrative as that of adults, but it’s still more than a drop in the bucket.” The lack of emotion in my tone deepens his repulsion. “Was this a traffickin’ attempt?”
“No.No.No.No.No!” He quickly shakes his head. “Fuck no!I don’t do that! I would never fucking do that! This wasn’t that! Definitely not that!”
“Then what was this?”
The kidnapper’s hesitation to answer has me slamming my foot down on top of the injury, smearing additional red on the bottom of my shoe. “Fuckkkkkkk!”
Oakley prepares to turn around when I suggest, “How about Rudolph?”
Sounds of police sirens in the distance have me even more anxious to interrogate the prisoner before they arrive.
