Shattered Glass(133)

What had Cai said? Where was he directing me? He had said I didn’t know who Peter was. He sent me to this room to learn about Peter. I went back to the crispy remains of the bookshelf.

Too obvious.

“Get moving,” Frank poked again.

“I’m thinking. Let me think!” The one thing I was good at. The one thing every detective knew I was good at.

What was the one thing here? The thing that Cai knew I wouldn’t miss in this room? The one thing he knew I wouldn’t leave without?

“I’m going into Strakosha’s room,” Frank said. “Keep an eye on him.”

“We already searched that room.”

I turned a full circle.

Don’t look for Peter in this room. Look for Cai.

“I’m searchin’ again,” Frank said. “Just watch him. And see if you can get Dillon and Fitzpatrick on the line. They were supposed to check in twenty minutes ago.”

The moment I saw it, I knew. And apparently I gave myself away.

“Wait,” Del ordered. Frank halted and flipped around. “He’s got something.”

“I hope it’s not crabs,” Dave said, grinning as he stood in the doorway.





And All I Got Was This Stupid Cat

My gun was in Del’s pocket. Del’s gun was on me. Frank’s gun was on Dave. And Dave carried no gun at all that I could see. This was not a good day for Austin Glass. If I had one more surprise, there was a distinct possibility my heart was going to bounce right out of my chest and plop into the mush at Frank’s feet.

“What the fuck you doing here, Buchanan?” Frank’s gun changed target from me to my best friend. “I told you to stay outside when you got here! How the fuck are we supposed to know who’s coming if you’re in here?”

“Crotch stains are always a good indicator.” I couldn’t help myself. Fear brought out the smartass.

Dave pinched his brows and lifted his lip, which told me that he was two seconds from a facepalm at my stupidity. “Frank, is that anyway to greet someone who came to give you good news?”

“You,” Frank said, waving the gun at me. “Get—”

“They found the Strakosha boy,” Dave interrupted. “And Mick and Dick. Just came over the radio.”

“Fuck!” Del wiped his mouth frantically. “Marco, if they’re talking…”

“Hard to talk with a bullet to the head.” Dave inched inside.

“We gotta get outta here.” Frank stuck the gun to my forehead again and pushed me back against the wall. I threw my hands up against it and tried to look nonthreatening. It wasn’t difficult. I was scared shitless. The other men in the room were one tick away from trigger happy. Sweat rolled off Frank in rivers. Between that smell and the soot, I gagged. “Where. Is. It?” He jammed the gun into my head to emphasize each word. The fear, pain and fumes were making me dizzy. I couldn’t think clearly. I couldn’t decide what was in my best interest.

If I told him, I was dead. If I didn’t, I was dead. I looked from Dave’s calm face to Frank’s sweaty one, to Del tapping his gun against his chin and muttering while he paced. These were not just worried cops, they were terrified. Something worse than the threat of jail time caused that kind of terror.

Dave laid a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Yo, man, that gun goes off and they’ll be in here in seconds. That doesn’t help any of us. We destroy the passports, and we take him with us.”

Frank’s gun still imprinted on my skin. I tried to look anywhere but on his shaking trigger finger. Nothing Dave said seemed to placate Frank. And Del was hyping himself up. “Shoot that faggot in the balls! Press it close. They won’t hear a thing from way back here. He’ll fucking talk then.” My dread reached an insane peak.

“Del, you’re not thinking clearly. Go watch the door,” Dave said quietly. When Frank didn’t contradict him, Del opened his mouth to argue.

“Do it,” Frank said. Del lowered his gun and squished out of the room.

“Okay, man, he’s not going to tell you anything with a gun to his forehead.” We all heard a door close. That’s when Dave brought his gun out and pressed it against Frank’s temple. “It’s over, Frank. I’m not going to let you shoot him.”

Frank’s mouth slowly opened. A battering of breaths escaping in a wheeze. “Del?” He called out loudly.

“Martinez has him now, Frank. It’s over. No one else dies. Give me the gun.”

“You know I gotta get them papers, Buchanan.” The twitch of Frank’s finger caught my breath. “Bullet to the head is better than what they’re gonna do to me. To all of us.”