At four in the morning, I’m awakened by pounding at the door.  It’s so loud, I startle awake with a jerk and a slight scream.  I quickly cover with my mouth.

“Wait here,” Deklan says, but before he can even get out of the bed, the door bursts open, and uniformed police officers invade the apartment.

They file in with guns drawn, screaming commands about keeping our hands up and not moving.  Detective Warren, the man who questioned me at the hospital, is in the lead.

“What the fuck, Warren?”  Deklan yells as he jumps up with his hands raised.  “You better have a fucking warrant!”

“I certainly do, Kearney,” Detective Warren says.  “This one is for your arrest.”

“What is going on?” I cry as two officers grab Deklan’s arms and pull them behind him, but no one pays any attention to me.

“For what?” Deklan glares at the officers but doesn’t resist as they place him in handcuffs.

“The murder of Michael Hardy.”

“Who the fuck is that?” Deklan asks.

“You probably know him better as Crackers.”

“Can’t say that I do.”

“Crackers, the pimp,” Warren says.

“Someone pops a lowlife pimp, and you think it’s me?”  Deklan laughs.

“Yes, I do.”

“I’m married, asshole.  I don’t need a hooker.”

“Yeah, but you’d still kill a pimp if your boss told you to,” Warren says as he holds up the warrant for Deklan to read.

“I was with my wife all night, boys,” Deklan says after glancing at the paper.  “You aren’t pinning this on me.”

“Sure you were.”  The cop sneers and tightens the cuffs around Deklan’s wrists until he grimaces.

“Do you mind if I put on my fucking pants first?”  Deklan nods toward a pair of sweatpants neatly folded on the top of the dresser.  “It’s kinda cold out there.”

“You got sloppy, Kearney,” Warren says.  He nods at one of the cops to grab the sweatpants.  “Used your own gun and dumped it way too close to the crime scene.  You aren’t getting out of this one.”

 “Deklan, what’s happening?  What are they talking about?”

“Your husband is a criminal,” one of the cops says, “and he is finally going to get what’s coming to him.”

“It’s all right, Kera.”  Deklan ignores the cop and looks right at me.  “It’s all going to be fine.  Just some kind of mistake.  Don’t worry, babe.”

“Search everywhere,” Warren says.  “There’s no telling what we’ll find.”

I follow as Deklan is hauled out of the bedroom and into the living room.  More officers come in from the hallway outside the apartment door and start going through drawers and cabinets in the kitchen.

“Dek?”  I stare into my husband’s apologetic eyes, too confused and scared to make sense of what is happening.

“It’s all right,” he says again.  He lifts his foot so a cop can pull the pants up his leg.  “Can you grab my shoes?  Once they leave, just call Brian.  He’ll take care of everything.”

“I don’t know his number.”

“It’s in your phone.”

A cop follows me into the bedroom and makes me stand off to the side while he gets Dek’s shoes.  He keeps warning me to keep my hands where he can see them and not to make any sudden moves.

“Question her, too,” Warren says when we come back out with the shoes.

Tears run down my face as Deklan is hauled away, and one of the cops sits me down on the couch.  I watch helplessly as the apartment is ransacked.

“Can you tell me where you were yesterday evening?”

I stare at him for a moment, not even understanding the question.  I realize it’s the same officer who talked to me after I conked my head—Longbow.

“Mrs. Kearney?” Longbow sits on the coffee table and looks me in the eye.

“We went out for dinner,” I say.

“Where did you go?”

“A steakhouse.  I don’t remember the name of the place.”

“What time did you arrive?”

As I go over the entire evening, cops go in and out of the apartment, digging through every drawer and closet.  I keep waiting for them to come up with one of Deklan’s guns or a large stack of cash, but they don’t seem to find anything of interest.

“Her purse has about seven hundred in cash,” I hear a cop tell Detective Warren.  “No guns, no ammo.  There isn’t even a joint in this place.”

“He’s moved whatever was here,” Warren says.  “Check for storage lockers, and go through his car.”

“The car isn’t in the parking garage.  There’s a rental in his assigned spot.”

“Dammit!”

I look up at the officer, confused by his words.  When did Deklan change cars?  We had taken his to dinner last night, so where did the rental come from?  For that matter, why were the pants he wears to the gym lying out on the dresser?

I know one thing—I’m glad I’m actually wearing pajamas.  Otherwise, I would have been completely naked when they got here.

Did Deklan know they were coming?  Is that why he insisted I wear something to bed?

“What time was the movie?” Longbow asks.

“Around eight,” I say.  “The ticket is in my purse.”

Longbow finishes his questions and goes over to Warren.

“If her story checks out, and the ME’s time of death is verified, we’re going to have a problem.”

“It was him,” Warren says with a shake of his head.  “I know it was.  His gun.  His prints.  We have him this time.”

“I’m not so sure,” Longbow replies.

“She’s not a reliable witness,” Warren says.  “We can’t go on her testimony.  Bring her to the station.  I want to question her myself.”

Longbow comes back over and sits next to me.

“Detective Warren would like you to come answer a few more questions,” he says.  He glances up at the detective, who is rooting through some paperwork on the kitchen island and mumbling to himself.  Longbow leans close and speaks softly to me.  “You’re not obligated to come.  He can’t make you without a subpoena.”

I look at him for a moment as his words sink in.

“I need to make some phone calls,” I tell him.  “I also need to get dressed.  I’ll come by later.”

Longbow nods and pats my hand before he goes back to Warren.  Warren looks over his shoulder and glares at me but says nothing else.  The cops gather up a few items and leave without closing the door behind them.

In a daze, I shut the apartment door and retrieve my phone from the nightstand where it is charging.  When I look in my contacts, I find Brian’s number in my favorites and touch the number on the screen.

“Yeah?”

“Brian?  It’s Kera.  Deklan’s been arrested.”

“Hang tight,” Brian says.  “I’ll be there shortly.”

He disconnects the call, and I stare around at the disaster that is our apartment.  Everything that was in a drawer is now out.  There are papers everywhere.  When I go to the bedroom to get dressed, I find all my clothes have been tossed on the bed.

Brian arrives ten minutes later.

“Aw, Mrs. K,” he says as soon as he sees me, “don’t cry.  Lucas is going to meet us at the station.  Dek won’t be arraigned until tomorrow, but he’ll be back right after.  They got nothing to hold him on.”

“You seem to know more about what’s going on than I do.”  I fold my arms across my chest.

“Trust me,” he says.  “It’s better that way.  Did you tell them the details of your date night?”

“Yes.  Do you know where Dek’s car is?”

“I’ve got the Viper.”  Brian whistles low.  “Damn, I love driving that thing.”

He smiles at me, but I don’t return it.

“Really, Mrs. K—everything is fine.  He’s got his alibi, and they won’t be able to tie him to any of it.”

“Are you going to tell me what all this is about?  Who the hell is Crackers?”

“A dumb-ass pimp on the lower east side.  Apparently, someone killed him last night.  Wasn’t Dek though, was it?  You two were eating cake about that time.”

He winks at me, and suddenly, all of Deklan’s strange behavior from last night begins to make sense—all that time he spent chatting with the bartender and the man sitting near us, making a point of telling people it was my birthday and ordering cake, even spilling popcorn on that guy—it was all to establish an alibi.

And Brian…Brian had Deklan’s gun.  Deklan gave it to him a few days ago.  He even made sure his prints were on it.

Brian drives me down to the station where Lucas is already pointing his finger at Detective Warren.

“Arraignment is a waste of taxpayer’s money,” he says.  “I’ve got statements from six witnesses establishing Mr. Kearney’s whereabouts throughout the evening.  There’s a report filed regarding the theft of the weapon in question.  You need to release my client immediately.”

“Not until the medical examiner verifies the time of death.”  Warren glares at Lucas.  “The timestamp on the report is only preliminary.  You will have to wait until the autopsy is complete, and that’s going to take all day.  Arraignment is at ten tomorrow morning, and your client can just sit his ass in that cell until then.”

Despite Lucas’s arguments, that’s exactly what happens.

Early the next morning, I sit next to Brian in the courtroom, and Deklan is brought out in an orange jumpsuit.  The prosecutor speaks to Lucas before they both go into a room behind the bench.  A few minutes after that, they return with the judge, who bangs his gavel and releases Deklan due to lack of evidence.

“I told ya not to worry, Mrs. K.”  Brian pats my arm, and we return to the waiting area to wait for Deklan.  A short time later, Lucas and Deklan, now dressed in his sweatpants and shoes, come out of the hallway and approach.

Brian rushes up and hands Deklan a T-shirt.

“Thanks, bro.”  Deklan reaches for me, and I hug him tightly.  “No worries, babe.  I told you everything was fine.  You did great.”

“How do you know that?”

“I have my sources.”  He winks and kisses me on the cheek before turning back to Lucas.  “Any chance of me getting my Beretta back?”

“None whatsoever,” Lucas says.

“I guess it’s time to go shopping, then.”  They both laugh, but I’m not finding anything funny about this.

“Someone want to explain this shit to me?”

I’m startled by Sean’s voice as he comes up behind me.  I press tightly to Deklan’s side.  Apparently, Sean isn’t finding this amusing either.

“Nothing to be concerned about, boss,” Deklan says.

“Dek’s gun and prints, but his alibi is airtight,” Lucas says.  “The judge didn’t even want to hear any more after I handed him all the witness statements.”

Sean nods as he looks back and forth between Deklan, Lucas, and Brian.  He never looks at me—not once.

“I didn’t sanction any action on Crackers.”  His voice is low.  “Someone want to explain?”

“No, sir,” Deklan replies, and Sean glares at him.

“How did this killer get your weapon?” he asks.

“I reported it stolen a few days ago,” Deklan says.  “Anyone could have used it.”

“You had a gun stolen?”  Sean tilts his head as he questions Deklan.

“Yeah, the registered Beretta.”

“How the hell did someone steal a gun from you?”

“Well, if I knew that, I’d probably know who stole it.”  Deklan keeps his unwavering gaze on Sean.  “The last I knew, it was in the glove compartment of my car.  Then it wasn’t there anymore.  I rarely lock the car, so I guess anyone could have gone through it.”

I tense, surprised that Deklan is lying to his boss.  Maybe it’s just the location that has him sticking to his story.  There are cops all over the place.

“You never mentioned it.”  Sean glares at Brian for a moment.

“I’ve been spending time with my grieving wife,” Deklan says.  “Didn’t really think it was worth mentioning.  I’ve got others without registrations.  I just bought that one on a whim because I liked it.  I can always get another one.”

“Well, considering it’s now evidence, I don’t think you’ll be getting it back—not with Longbow gone.”

“Longbow is gone?”

“Suspended.  Something about mishandling evidence.  Lucas, I’ll need you to find him a good attorney.”

“Sure, boss.”

Sean steps closer and points a finger right at Deklan’s nose.

“I expect you to keep better track of your weapons, Dek.  I don’t like to hear about people stealing from my employees.”

“Won’t happen again, boss,” Deklan says.  “I guess if they find the shooter, I’ll know who stole my gun.”

“We are going to talk about this later.”  It’s clear that Sean isn’t satisfied with Deklan’s explanation.  “Lucas, any other paperwork that needs done?”

“No, boss.  It’s all good.”

“Fine.  At my office in a half hour.”  Sean glares at Brian again.  “All of you.”