Vandermein

XII

Now I was at a loss. I was sure Veronica was some kind of mole; she'd characterized Boone in such a way I'd never known him, even if his behavior was troubling the night he visited. But that could probably be chalked up to him witnessing dead children wash up on the beach. I have certainly been acting unlike myself, trying to solve mysteries and whatnot.

But if Veronica wasn't the transparent woman from the apartment, then what was her angle? Was her story true? I still wasn't ready to accept that.

"Why are you in the gutter?" She called to me from her slightly elevated position on the side of the highway.

"I'm living out a metaphor," I told her as I dusted the thistles and spurs from my clothes. "What are yo doing here without your partner?"

As I asked the question, the other door opened. Detective Boone stepped out, looking far worse for wear. His skin was clammy, almost blue. He limped slightly, holding on to the squad car as he walked.

"I'm right here, scumbag," he croaked.

"Bill, you look terrible," I said, trying to milk every ounce of sympathy from my soul into the words.

"Not a step closer!" Boone pulled his gun out and the barrel shook in his tenuous grip.

"Whoa, no need for that. I'm the victim here." My hands went up, but I was sure all I needed to do was run. A grip like that would not be shooting straight on any target, much less a moving one. But again, my curiosity won the day and I stayed put.

"A victim. Right. So you just happened to be surfing on top of the car I've been tailing for the past 24 hours."

"If you were tailing the car, then it went that way. And not quickly, the driver's been shot."

"Why chase the car when the real prize is right here?"

So, he thought I was driving the car, or at least tied to it in some way. Could my overseas money be buying more vehicles than freighters full of kids?

I looked to Veronica. Her expression was tortured: teeth clenched and eyes wide. I could understand the dilemma: do I betray my boss (more) or get a valuable collar right now. I didn't blame her for considering turning me in. You can't take things like that personally. Honestly, it would be her best move: she could earn respect, both from the precinct and her abusive boss, and earn a name for herself in the process. In fact, it's what she should do as a rational actor in the market.

But therein lies the paradox of my philosophy: it only works if I'm the only one doing it.

"Detective Boone, have you been abusing your partner?"

The question took him by surprise as his gun shook just a little more.

"What!?" He nearly spat the word.

Veronica's posture became rigid as he eyes darted around the scene.

"Are you abusing Detective Guzman here? Beating her with a pipe, taking her on clandestine nighttime trips? Threatening to kill my children?"

He looked shocked and offended for just a moment before a faint smile worked its way across his lips. "Your diversionary tactics won't work with me anymore, Frank. We've played this game far too many times."

He was right. I've become something of a boy who cries wolf.

"Your partner spent the night at my house last night, detective. She spun quite the tale about you. She said you wanted to hurt my children. Tell me that's not true, Bill."

Then he hesitated. Our eyes met and some unconscious communication occurred between us in way it only can between two friends. He could tell I was being truthful with him; I've never spoke at much length about my family--it was off limits according to our unwritten rules.

Time slowed. As Veronica reached for her gun.