Officer Mackereth, watching me.
“I’m a good shot. Good fighter, strong runner. I don’t want to die like my friends. I’ve already spent too much of my life taking shit. If I’m going out tomorrow, I want to take the killer with me.”
“Charlie—”
“I need my gun. I know you don’t trust me. Hell, you don’t even know me. But I need my gun. One more day. Twenty-three hours. No, thirty-six. Sunday morning dawns and I’m still alive, Boston PD can have it. I’ll hand it over to you. Let you personally take it to them. I’ll accept whatever happens next. I promise.”
“What’d you do, Charlie?”
“Randi’s dead. Jackie’s dead. Nobody knows why, nobody knows how, and nobody sure as hell knows who. But they were my best friends, Tom. I loved them too much, I understand that now. But they never complained. They loved me back and I owe them for that. Tomorrow night, eight P.M. A killer’s coming for me and I’m gonna make him or her pay. It’s all I got left, Tom. Nothing worth living for. Only something worth dying for.”
Officer Mackereth stepped closer to me.
“If I ask you to hand over your bag?” he asked quietly, hand on his holster.
“Please don’t.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Probably.”
“Where’s your dog?”
“She didn’t leave a note.”
He sighed. His hand didn’t come down, but his shoulders did. “I don’t know what to do about you.”
I said nothing, left him to the weight of his own consideration.
“Look me in the eye, Charlie. Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t do whatever it is Boston PD thinks you did, and I’ll let it go. Turn around, pretend I never saw you.”
I looked him in the eye. I didn’t say a word.
He sighed, heavier this time. His gaze appeared genuinely sorrowful. “Kinda liked you, Charlie.”
“Kinda liked you, too.”
“Guess I shoulda known. I have a habit of being attracted to train wrecks. Hero complex, my sister tells me.”
I had to smile. “I have a habit of wanting more than I can have. Guess we’re both consistent.”
“Doesn’t have to be like this.”
“I don’t know any other way.”
He took another step forward. Eight feet between us. Then six, five, four. Strike distance. One step forward and I could punch him, overhand right to the head. Or simply pop open the messenger bag and start firing.
I thought of Randi. I thought of Jackie. I wondered if their last moments had been like this. Willing themselves to fight back, or simply waiting for it to be over.
Officer Mackereth finally paused, close enough he could touch his nose to mine, the frost of our mutual breaths mingling in the frigid night air. His hand remained on the butt of his weapon, not drawing it, but protecting it.
“Five P.M., Charlie.”
“Five P.M.?”
“That’s when I’ll pick you up. Tomorrow night. I know about your friends. Did my own research. Someone wants to take a swing at you, he can deal with both of us.”
I didn’t say anything, just gazed up into his face. His expression was set, his blue eyes resolute.
“Sunday morning,” he continued firmly, “you’ll hand over your twenty-two, as promised.”
I nodded.
“I can’t help you after that.”
I nodded again.
“You saved my life the other night, Charlie. Guess I feel I owe you one. But as of Sunday morning, consider us even.”
His hand shifted. I thought he might touch my cheek. Maybe I even anticipated his gloved fingers on my icy cheek. Or his warm lips brushing across my mouth. Or his body, strong and solid, pressed hard against my own.
I’m cold, I thought, but realized what I really meant was that I felt too alone.
Officer Mackereth turned. Officer Mackereth walked away.
I waited another minute, standing in the darkness, resisting the urge to call him back.