air into his lungs, but his chest muscles fought against one another. The room went dark.
Expanding light brought the familiar features into focus, again inches from his face. He heard his name. It echoed.
His chest ached, but air once again flowed in with each breath. He heard another voice, from behind Bransome, but he couldn’t make out the words.
Then everything came back into perfect focus, including the pain. His chest dueled his forehead.
Bransome shook him.
The sneer on Bransome’s face cleared his head. Where was the fist? Bransome’s voice hit him just as hard.
“Ramirez was innocent.”
Jason could feel Bransome’s hands squeezing the blood from his arms.
“What about the other two? Did you do fucking stories on them?”
Jason felt a violent shake.
“Art. Calm down,” the voice from behind Bransome again.
Another shake.
“Let me give you an update, asshole. Mullins moved down south, to Irvine. Three college girls were raped down there in a period of six months, all with his DNA. Clean DNA this time. They finally caught him on the third one. He won’t get off this time. And Warne. He did himself proud. Pulled another armed robbery, but this time he killed the clerk.”
The fist knocked Jason back on the bed again, but this time he could breathe. The pain was off center, higher on his chest. He was yanked upward again.
“Art. Don’t.”
Bransome’s face was close again, his voice a low growl.
“The clerk had a family. Wife and two small kids. This is for them, and for the college girls.”
The fist raised in the air again, and Jason closed his eyes tight. Go ahead, he thought. I know it’ll make you
feel better. Maybe it will make me feel better, too.
Nothing happened.
Jason opened his eyes to a squint. Bransome was frozen, his arm raised, the fist poised. But he looked different. Jason blinked to a better focus. Bransome’s fist fell to his side. Anger no longer stained his face.
Bransome spun around and walked to the far side of the room. He flopped into the 1960s-style chair and leaned forward so his arms and forehead rested on his knees. “Get him dressed.”
A huge man obliterated his view, and he felt hands pulling on his arms, releasing one of the cuffs, pulling a shirt over his head. He tried to focus on the man, but all he could make out were glasses and a crew cut. After a few minutes, the man snapped the handcuff closed and stepped back into the background.
Jason watched Bransome pull himself from the chair.
“We’d like you to come with us to the station for questioning. Your cooperation is strictly voluntary.”
Jason yanked his wrists, pulling the cuffs taut. Voluntary, my ass. “And if I decline?”
Bransome leaned close to his face. He spoke slowly, letting each word hover for an instant. “Your cooperation would be greatly appreciated. If not …” He looked over at his partner and drew his face closer. His breath was hotagainst Jason’s cheek, his voice low. “You may want to cooperate.”
A drop of blood fell from Jason’s forehead onto the bed. He looked at the red spot, then up at Bransome. “Okay. You win.”
“You’ll come voluntarily?”
“Yes.”
“Of your own free will?”
He looked at the spot again. “That’s what voluntary means.”
Bransome clapped his hands together. “Good.” He reached around and removed one cuff. “We appreciate your willingness to help.”
Jason stood, wobbling. “What am I supposed to have done? I’ve been driving the speed limit.”
Bransome unhooked the other cuff. “Don’t play dumb.”
The partner stepped forward, and Jason recognized him. Saroyan was his name. He put a hand towel in Jason’s newly freed hand. “Put pressure on it.”
Jason pressed the towel against his forehead. “I’m not playing anything. What did I do?”
“You don’t know about it?” Bransome’s voice hurt his ears.
“Know about what?”
Saroyan picked up Jason’s shoes and tossed them to the foot of the
Expanding light brought the familiar features into focus, again inches from his face. He heard his name. It echoed.
His chest ached, but air once again flowed in with each breath. He heard another voice, from behind Bransome, but he couldn’t make out the words.
Then everything came back into perfect focus, including the pain. His chest dueled his forehead.
Bransome shook him.
The sneer on Bransome’s face cleared his head. Where was the fist? Bransome’s voice hit him just as hard.
“Ramirez was innocent.”
Jason could feel Bransome’s hands squeezing the blood from his arms.
“What about the other two? Did you do fucking stories on them?”
Jason felt a violent shake.
“Art. Calm down,” the voice from behind Bransome again.
Another shake.
“Let me give you an update, asshole. Mullins moved down south, to Irvine. Three college girls were raped down there in a period of six months, all with his DNA. Clean DNA this time. They finally caught him on the third one. He won’t get off this time. And Warne. He did himself proud. Pulled another armed robbery, but this time he killed the clerk.”
The fist knocked Jason back on the bed again, but this time he could breathe. The pain was off center, higher on his chest. He was yanked upward again.
“Art. Don’t.”
Bransome’s face was close again, his voice a low growl.
“The clerk had a family. Wife and two small kids. This is for them, and for the college girls.”
The fist raised in the air again, and Jason closed his eyes tight. Go ahead, he thought. I know it’ll make you
feel better. Maybe it will make me feel better, too.
Nothing happened.
Jason opened his eyes to a squint. Bransome was frozen, his arm raised, the fist poised. But he looked different. Jason blinked to a better focus. Bransome’s fist fell to his side. Anger no longer stained his face.
Bransome spun around and walked to the far side of the room. He flopped into the 1960s-style chair and leaned forward so his arms and forehead rested on his knees. “Get him dressed.”
A huge man obliterated his view, and he felt hands pulling on his arms, releasing one of the cuffs, pulling a shirt over his head. He tried to focus on the man, but all he could make out were glasses and a crew cut. After a few minutes, the man snapped the handcuff closed and stepped back into the background.
Jason watched Bransome pull himself from the chair.
“We’d like you to come with us to the station for questioning. Your cooperation is strictly voluntary.”
Jason yanked his wrists, pulling the cuffs taut. Voluntary, my ass. “And if I decline?”
Bransome leaned close to his face. He spoke slowly, letting each word hover for an instant. “Your cooperation would be greatly appreciated. If not …” He looked over at his partner and drew his face closer. His breath was hotagainst Jason’s cheek, his voice low. “You may want to cooperate.”
A drop of blood fell from Jason’s forehead onto the bed. He looked at the red spot, then up at Bransome. “Okay. You win.”
“You’ll come voluntarily?”
“Yes.”
“Of your own free will?”
He looked at the spot again. “That’s what voluntary means.”
Bransome clapped his hands together. “Good.” He reached around and removed one cuff. “We appreciate your willingness to help.”
Jason stood, wobbling. “What am I supposed to have done? I’ve been driving the speed limit.”
Bransome unhooked the other cuff. “Don’t play dumb.”
The partner stepped forward, and Jason recognized him. Saroyan was his name. He put a hand towel in Jason’s newly freed hand. “Put pressure on it.”
Jason pressed the towel against his forehead. “I’m not playing anything. What did I do?”
“You don’t know about it?” Bransome’s voice hurt his ears.
“Know about what?”
Saroyan picked up Jason’s shoes and tossed them to the foot of the
Similar Books
