Killing Me Softly

“He shot a guy last month, Nick.”

“In the line of fucking duty!” Di Marco shouted. “He was cleared of any wrongdoing. It was a clean kill.

You know that.”

“It was a clean kill and it left him a basket case,”

Chief Mac argued.

“According to you.” Nick jabbed a finger in the chief’s direction, and for a moment Bryan thought he was going to actually poke him in the chest with it. He only barely missed doing so. “The department shrink says he’s fine.”

“Now,” the chief said.

Because he hadn’t seemed fine right after the shooting, Bryan thought. Then again, who would have? Bryan had never shot a man before. He’d had no choice, though. The guy had his girlfriend in a headlock, a knife at her throat, and he was getting ready to use it. There had been no question. Hell, she’d been bleeding already when Bryan had taken the shot. He was the only one with a clear line. He’d had no choice. But he damn well didn’t like it.

“Yeah, now,” Nick repeated. “And now is when this killing went down. The kid didn’t do it, Chief. Come on. You know the kid didn’t do it.”

“Quit talking about me like I’m not in the room, you two,” Bryan said. He kept his tone level, his voice low. “I’m standing right here. And I didn’t do it. I’ll tell you both, I didn’t fucking do this. I had no reason. I liked Bette.”

“Liked her?” The chief bit back whatever else he’d been about to say, sighed, compressed his lips. “All right, Kendall. You liked her. You were, uh, seeing this Bette—”

“Bettina Wright,” Bryan filled in.

The chief pulled out a pad and jotted the name down. “You were seeing her pretty regularly?”

“We were friends.”

Chief MacNamara looked at Nick. “If he’s gonna start lying already, about something so obvious…”

“I’m not lying,” Bryan said.

“She was in your bed, son.”

Di Marco drew a breath, released it. “Come on, Kendall, be straight with the chief. It’s pretty clear there was more between you than just…friendship.”

“There really wasn’t. We were friends. We got along great, but neither of us wanted anything serious.”

The chief blinked, looking blank. Di Marco rolled his eyes. “I think this is some of that shit the kids over at the university call ‘friends with benefits,’ Mac.

“I’m old, not dead, Di Marco. I’ve heard the term. I just never thought anyone really lived that way.”

Di Marco shrugged and turned his attention back to Bryan. “So you two never fought? Didn’t argue? There was no jealousy?”

“I knew from the beginning she was still gun-shy after her ex-boyfriend—and that’s where we oughtta start, right there. That bastard was jealous. Didn’t want her for himself, but it sure as hell drove him crazy to see her with anyone else. Even me, even though we were just—”

“Just friends,” the chief muttered.

Bryan nodded, knowing how lame it sounded.

“Okay,” the chief said with an exasperated sigh. “Look, we have a lot more to go over, Kendall. We need to take you in, get your statement, get a list of every other person who was at the party, get the name of this ex-boyfriend of hers, and anyone else you can think of who might have had a motive, notify her family—”

“Hell,” Nick muttered. “Worst part of this freakin’ job.”

“What freakin’ job?” MacNamara blurted. “You’ve gotta be real clear about something, Di Marco. You’re retired. You teach criminal justice now—you don’t practice it.”

“I teach criminal profiling,” Nick corrected. “And I just decided to unretire.”

“That’s not—”

“Don’t say it, Mac. Don’t say it’s not possible when we both know it is.”

“You’re the kid’s mentor, practically a father figure. You don’t call that a conflict of interest?”

“It’s my case.”

Chief MacNamara met Nick’s steady gaze.

“If it’s anything to do with the Nightcap Strangler, Chief, even a copycat who somehow had inside information, then it’s my case. Always has been. Nobody knows more about it than me. Nobody else is gonna have the foundation of information and knowledge that I have. And if it turns out I fucked up and sent an innocent man—”

“You didn’t,” MacNamara said.

“If I did, then I’m damn well gonna be the one to make it right.”

The chief nodded. “I might be able to pull some strings.”

“Then pull them. Cut through the red tape. Call me a consultant or some bullshit like that if you have to, but get me in on this—officially in on this.” Then he turned to Bryan. “You said your dad’s on his way?”

“Yeah.”

“Call him and tell him to meet us at the station, okay? While you do that, I’ll call you a lawyer and your union rep, have them meet us there, as well.”

“Come on, Nick. I don’t need a lawyer.”

Bryan saw the grim look that flew between Nick Di Marco and Chief Mac, and for just a second his heart seemed to freeze in between beats. “Damn, is it really that bad?”

Nick met his gaze, but his wasn’t steady, and his smile was clearly forced. “Probably not, kid. But we might as well prepare for the worst, just in case. Don’t you think?”

“Nick…” Bryan could hardly ask the question, but he had to know. He had to. “Nick, tell me you don’t think I did this.”

“No, kid. I don’t think you did this.”

Bryan looked at the chief, hoping and maybe even half expecting him to say, “Neither do I.” But Chief MacNamara only lowered his eyes, shook his head and led the way to his waiting SUV.

Bryan thought he was going to throw up again before he got in.

Dawn pulled the pillow over her head and hugged it around her ears, but the damned phone kept right on ringing. It was set to go to voice mail after four rings, because four rings was more than she ever wanted to hear. But this caller had just hung up and dialed back when that had happened. And then had done it again.

At ten rings total, Dawn peered out from beneath the pillow. She could see, from the Caller ID feature on her television—which had been left on all night long, just as it was every night—that the call was coming from her mother. Her birth mother, not the one who’d raised her. Blackberry Inn, the screen announced.