Kit
The police cuff me and usher me into a tiny room with a folding table and plastic chairs. Having watched enough American crime shows, I refuse to say a fucking word until my lawyer arrives. Maybe they don’t watch the same shows because I get grilled for over an hour before they allow Andy in the door. Meanwhile, I clam up and count dots in the tiled ceiling.
Once Andy arrives, I give him the whole, fucked-up story since day one. When he tells me the thug I shot is in serious condition but not dead. I’m not so happy about this news until he reminds me I won’t get charged with murder.
“What about your man, Finn? Did he find the–”
Andy shoots a finger to his lips. Maybe he worries that attorney-client privileges aren’t what they should be?
However, when an officer with a buzz cut enters, my lawyer leans against the wall all casual-like and crosses his arms.
Without introducing himself, a military-looking man points to a chair. “Sit.”
What am I, his mutt?
Andy pushes down on my shoulders, otherwise I would’ve stayed standing, just to piss the buzz-cut off.
Sitting across from me, the man with all the power in the room says, “Okay, you got your lawyer. Now talk. Tell me what happened in the hotel room.”
I respond as Andy told me to just a few minutes before. “Some people bust down my door and take my girl. When one shoots, I fire back. Otherwise I’d be dead, eh?” The last part is my own embellishment.
“Is your weapon registered?” Stupid people ask such stupid questions.
“You already know dis, so why you askin’?”
Andy taps my shoulder.
Fuck. I forgot. I’m supposed to be polite.
Buzz-cut leans in, clear hazel eyes boring into me. “So, what’s your issue with the man you shot?”
This isn’t my first rodeo so this asshole doesn’t phase me. “He tried to kill me and I didn’t want to die.”
The man rubs his face with his hands. “I mean before the incident. Had you met him before?”
I glance up and Andy who shakes his head in the negative.
“My lawyer is advising me not to say nothing. Now, it’s my turn to ask a question. Did you get Sonia? Is she safe?”
“Sorry. This is an ongoing investigation.”
“Then I say nothing.” Fuck him.
“I thought you said you’d cooperate?” His sharp eyes narrow and his mouth tightens.
“And I thought you wouldn’t be a complete dick.”
He shrugs, acts like he’s about to go but Andy jumps in, “My client’s obviously worried about his girlfriend’s safety. He’s a victim, not a criminal. Surely, you can give him some reassurance.”
Finn ponders this for what may be seconds but for me, is a lifetime. What if her father or Leonid killed her?”
“She’s safe.”
I let go my breath and dig my palms into my stinging eyes. “Can I talk to her?”
“No.”
So begins a grueling twelve hour session. When it’s done, Andy’s suit is crumpled and there’s enough coffee cups and wrappers on the floor to start a small bonfire. My saving grace is the guy I shot has a rap sheet a mile long. I guess that’s why they let me go with a warning not to leave town.
I’ve learned my negotiator likes to be called Finn. He’s waiting by his car, outside the station, just as the sun peeks over the horizon.
Me and Andy shake his hand, then I ask, “You get the drive?”
He pats his pocket. “I did. Worth a lot of money, me boyo. A lot of governments would love to get their hands on that.”
“And Sonia. Is she safe?”
“She’s inside. Shortly after you arrived, they brought her in, along with her father and a few others.”
“Can you use that drive to negotiate her freedom? I’ll pay whatever it costs.”
“Piece of cake.” He smiles and hands me his car keys. “Go home. We got this covered.”
Back at my apartment, I grab my hockey stick and bounce a puck on it while pacing, too tired to sleep. Her laugh resonates in my head and her face floats in the air in front of me. I don’t fucking get it. No one falls stupid in love, overnight. No one of sound mind and especially not me.
So why the fuck do I feel like I’m the one who got shot?