Deadly Heat

“What’s that supposed to mean? It’s a job. It pays my way.”


“Yeah, but you? A… locksmith?” Nikki had respect for every trade, but for this

purpose, she put a shit stank on the job title. He shifted slightly on the hospital

bed and examined his fat bandage. “Not what you had in mind, was it?” His eyes

flicked over when she played with the page in her hand. Nikki waited to milk the

moment and said, “We did some research—yeah, we do computer searches, too—and

know what popped up? You were dismissed from the NYPD Police Academy.”

“That’s ancient history,” he blurted, not sounding like it was archive material,

at all.

“Maybe so, but it’s kind of interesting. According to records, you got bounced

because you failed the psychological evaluation.”

“That’s a fucking rigged test.” His breathing became more rapid. Wilding flashed

in his eyes. “You ever seen that test?”

“I have,” she answered quietly. “I took it myself. Passed.” She delivered that

with a smile and let it sit there. “The thing about the psych eval? The deficient

ones never think it’s valid.”

His manacles clanged against the stainless bar as he tried to sit up. “Hey, fuck

you. Deficient, my ass. I was too smart for those losers at the Academy. They were

threatened by my special gifts and set me up to get bounced. Jealous shits.”

“Bet you would have made a great detective, otherwise.”

“Fuckin’-A right.”

“Except I see the NYPD wasn’t the only place you failed. I don’t have all of them

here, Glen, but there’s a short list of you washing out as an investigator at

several top security firms and then a sort of descending curve of gigs until you

landed at… locksmith.” Then she added, “Oh, and security systems. So you did have

that going to keep the dream alive.”

“This is bullshit. I know what I can do. I know who I am. I know my destiny. I am

smarter than all those assholes, and I’ve proved it.”

Rook chimed in. “By ambushing Bedbug Doug?”

“Hey, fuck you, too.”

Heat didn’t mind the gang pile this time. “Rook’s got a point.”

“The fuck he does.”

“Is that what your destiny’s all about?” she continued. “Sneaking up on innocent

people pretending you’re better than they are?”

“And smarter. Don’t tell me you don’t know that. I had to practically draw you a

picture to keep you in the game.”

“Oh, so you think I’m a loser, too.”

His demeanor snap-shifted from defensive to pure manic. “No, no, no, Detective. You

made it all… come to, I dunno… life. You brought my game to the next level.”

“Well, game over, Glen,” said Heat.

“Like hell it is.”

Nikki reached out and clattered his chains with her thumb and forefinger. Then she

closed the file, slid her chair away, and started for the door. When she got there,

Windsor shouted, “You want to talk about Salena Kaye?” Nikki stopped, and he said,

“I know stuff. I learned shit about this bioterror plot.”

Heat turned to Rook. “And Detective Windsor cracks his case.”

When she turned away, Windsor called, “I got it all out of that bitch when I worked

on her. And trust me, Heat, you’ll want all of it.”

She stayed by the door but said, “I’m listening.”

“No. I want a deal first.”

“Don’t make me laugh, you’re a serial killer.”

“It’s not supposed to end like this.” He yelled and jerked at the wrist chains

hard enough for the uniform to come in and make a check. After the uni left, Rainbow

said, “You should have killed me, Heat. I deserve to go down in a blaze.” Destiny

again, she thought. He became contemplative. Then he said, “You know where the

deals are. Come up with something. Like doing life in a shitty prison versus a nice

one out of state, maybe in warm weather, for starters. California. Arizona.”