Trembling(33)

And if I was wrong, then I'd know it immediately. If I got to Mr. Sutherland's house, and he didn’t have a swollen, purple nose, then I'd know it wasn't him last night. I'd know if my paranoia was getting away with me, the way Jason and Hallam claimed it did.



But if his face was mangled, then I'd have proof. Mr. Sutherland had attacked me in the parking lot last night. And I could use that proof to intimidate him. I could wave the gun in his face. Force him to talk. Force him to tell me who he was working for and what he wanted with me. I imagined Mr. Sutherland cowering in a darkened corner in his apartment, begging me to spare his life. Telling me everything I wanted to know.



I knew I shouldn't go, but the advantages to going seemed to outweigh the risk. If I could get enough information from Mr. Sutherland, then maybe we could stop anything bad from happening. Then maybe Jason and I could stay here. I could relax. He could too. We could be together again, without all the things that had come between us lately. I knew, even though it was a bad idea to go to Mr. Sutherland's house, that I was going to go anyway. I couldn't help it. I had to.



I brought bullets with me. I brought the gun, tucked into the inside pocket of my jacket. I brought my purse, which contained the slip of paper that had Mr. Sutherland's address on it. I locked the door to the apartment behind me, and I set out to walk to see Mr. Sutherland.



His house wasn't too far from mine or from the school. Actually, he lived in an apartment as well. It took me about twenty minutes all told, because I made a wrong turn and had to double back. But finally, I was standing at Mr. Sutherland's door. I double-checked the address one last time, and then I knocked on his door.



There was no response.



My heart was thumping, and I was squelching the desire to put my hand inside my jacket and feel the gun. Maybe he wasn't home. Maybe I was crazy. Maybe Mr. Sutherland hadn't been at school today because he'd gone on a trip. Maybe he had nothing to do with anything.



I knocked again.



I was ready to walk away when the door opened.





Chapter Seven

To: Renegade Son

From: Edgar Weem

Subject: Sutherland

Attachment: sutherlanddossier.doc



Liam Sutherland?! This isn't good, Hallam. Not at all. Sutherland is a very dangerous man who's managed to find out far more about our organization than is good for him. We've been on the hunt for him since before Jason's birth. Since we hadn't heard anything in years, I'd almost hoped he was dead. Pass on any information that you can to me about his whereabouts. The organization would be very grateful.



I've attached a document containing all our intel on Sutherland.



Finally, of course we're not after Azazel. Let me know if you need to use any of our resources to track down her attacker, however. Honestly, my money's on Sutherland.



Edgar

Mr. Sutherland stood in the doorway, his nose swollen and red. There was a huge greenish-blue bruise spreading from the bridge of his nose over his cheekbones. I gasped. I'd been right.



"Azazel," said Mr. Sutherland. "What are you doing here?"



"What happened to your face?" I said.



He smiled. "Would you like to come inside?" He stepped aside from the doorway. I walked past him. He shut the door behind me.



"I assume you're after some books?" he said.



I turned on him, my hand going inside my jacket, brushing the cold metal of my gun. "Let's not play games, Mr. Sutherland," I said. "I've got a gun."



He raised his eyebrows, then winced at the movement. "All right," he said. "You've got quite a right hook, I must admit. I wasn't expecting that."



So, he was going to admit it, then? Good. That would make things considerably easier.



"I wasn't expecting to be jumped in a parking lot," I said.



He chuckled. He took a step toward me.



I whipped out the gun, flipping the off the safety as I did. "No quick moves, okay?" I said.



Mr. Sutherland put his hands in the air. "That's really not necessary, Azazel. I don't intend to hurt you."



"Right," I said. "That's why you attacked me and tried to carry me off last night."



"I just wanted to talk," he said. "I asked you to come over here, but you didn't seem interested in that idea. In fact, you seemed frightened of me. I didn't know how else I'd get the chance to speak to you alone."



"I'm here now," I said. "Talk away."



"Might we talk without a gun in my face?" he asked.



"No," I said. "I don't trust you."



He shrugged. "Fair enough. But it would make me a lot more comfortable."



"You can say whatever you have to say with the gun out," I said. "It makes me more comfortable."