“Partners in what?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
“I think I don’t.”
“Aiden, be polite,” Claire said sharply.
He looked at her again and Claire felt herself pull back from the intensity and the anger in his eyes. “He’s doing his job, Aiden,” was all she could say.
“Guess a cop doesn’t need to be polite to do his job then.”
“Aiden.”
“It’s all right,” Golec said, standing. “We can finish this conversation down at the station if you like, Aiden, because I need answers and I need them tonight.”
“Are you arresting me?”
“Not yet.”
“So what’s the big concern? So what if I know Cort? Big deal.”
“It’s a big deal because Cort’s been shot. Shot during the commission of an offence. A robbery, to be precise. An armed robbery. Been to many bookstores lately, Aiden?”
Golec watched his face register surprise despite his efforts to keep it calm. He was still just a kid playing a man’s game and even though he’d learned some street sense somewhere in his travels, he hadn’t learned enough to lift him over the fact that he was still just a kid in over his head. This was no criminal. Not yet anyway.
“Is he gonna be okay?” Aiden asked finally.
“We don’t know. It’s touch and go right now,” Golec said. “Cort says the pistol he used was yours. He says you gave it to him and told him how to pull the robbery. He says it was your score all the way.”
“My score? I was here. I was in bed.”
“True enough. But if the gun was yours I’ve got you for accessory and conspiracy to commit a felony.”
“You got nothing.”
“I’ve got a kid caught in the act who claims you got the gun.”
“He’s lying.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“Mom?” Aiden asked, downshifting into fifteen again, and Golec watched her. “You believe me, don’t you?”
“Tell Detective Golec the truth, Aiden,” Claire said quietly.
“You don’t believe me?” he asked.
“Tell the truth, Aiden, that’s all.”
“You don’t believe me. You’d rather believe the cop. Well, fuck you, then.”
“Aiden,” Golec said sharply. “You don’t speak to your mother like that.”
“Who the hell are you to tell me how to talk to her? You’re not my father. You’re just a cop.”
“I’m a cop who holds your future right here, boy,” Golec said, bringing the cuffs out from behind his back.
Aiden faced him directly and cocked his head slightly, and in the stance Golec could see a future hardcase. He’d seen enough of them in his time to know. Aiden had enough of the young turk in him to not back down easily, enough to make him a candidate for a lifetime of these scenes, enough to not hear the fifteen-year-old speaking under the visage of atougher, older man and enough to guarantee his mother one huge load of grief and guilt and shame. Golec held the look and waited.
“I got nothing to say,” Aiden said.
“Fine,” Golec said. “You’re under arrest.”
“Aiden, for god’s sake, tell him!” Claire grabbed at her son. “Tell him you had no part in this. Tell him it’s a tall tale. Tell him, Aiden.”
The boy looked at her blankly, and Golec could see him steeling himself, pulling himself back and away like they all did, getting ready for the game to come. Claire was weeping now, and as she stepped toward her boy he retreated the same number of steps. The cream was dripping onto the collar of the robe and she made no move to dab it and Golec could see the whole visage of bruises on her face. There was another story here and he’d be sure to tell the uniforms to return to check it out. Her shoulders shook and Golec could see the collapse coming, the fall to the floor that would follow their retreat into the hallway. He wouldn’t cuff him. Not in front of her now. This was enough of a shock. Aiden just stood there looking at him blankly, waiting.
“We need to go, Miss Hartley,” he told her.
She looked at him, trying
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
“I think I don’t.”
“Aiden, be polite,” Claire said sharply.
He looked at her again and Claire felt herself pull back from the intensity and the anger in his eyes. “He’s doing his job, Aiden,” was all she could say.
“Guess a cop doesn’t need to be polite to do his job then.”
“Aiden.”
“It’s all right,” Golec said, standing. “We can finish this conversation down at the station if you like, Aiden, because I need answers and I need them tonight.”
“Are you arresting me?”
“Not yet.”
“So what’s the big concern? So what if I know Cort? Big deal.”
“It’s a big deal because Cort’s been shot. Shot during the commission of an offence. A robbery, to be precise. An armed robbery. Been to many bookstores lately, Aiden?”
Golec watched his face register surprise despite his efforts to keep it calm. He was still just a kid playing a man’s game and even though he’d learned some street sense somewhere in his travels, he hadn’t learned enough to lift him over the fact that he was still just a kid in over his head. This was no criminal. Not yet anyway.
“Is he gonna be okay?” Aiden asked finally.
“We don’t know. It’s touch and go right now,” Golec said. “Cort says the pistol he used was yours. He says you gave it to him and told him how to pull the robbery. He says it was your score all the way.”
“My score? I was here. I was in bed.”
“True enough. But if the gun was yours I’ve got you for accessory and conspiracy to commit a felony.”
“You got nothing.”
“I’ve got a kid caught in the act who claims you got the gun.”
“He’s lying.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“Mom?” Aiden asked, downshifting into fifteen again, and Golec watched her. “You believe me, don’t you?”
“Tell Detective Golec the truth, Aiden,” Claire said quietly.
“You don’t believe me?” he asked.
“Tell the truth, Aiden, that’s all.”
“You don’t believe me. You’d rather believe the cop. Well, fuck you, then.”
“Aiden,” Golec said sharply. “You don’t speak to your mother like that.”
“Who the hell are you to tell me how to talk to her? You’re not my father. You’re just a cop.”
“I’m a cop who holds your future right here, boy,” Golec said, bringing the cuffs out from behind his back.
Aiden faced him directly and cocked his head slightly, and in the stance Golec could see a future hardcase. He’d seen enough of them in his time to know. Aiden had enough of the young turk in him to not back down easily, enough to make him a candidate for a lifetime of these scenes, enough to not hear the fifteen-year-old speaking under the visage of atougher, older man and enough to guarantee his mother one huge load of grief and guilt and shame. Golec held the look and waited.
“I got nothing to say,” Aiden said.
“Fine,” Golec said. “You’re under arrest.”
“Aiden, for god’s sake, tell him!” Claire grabbed at her son. “Tell him you had no part in this. Tell him it’s a tall tale. Tell him, Aiden.”
The boy looked at her blankly, and Golec could see him steeling himself, pulling himself back and away like they all did, getting ready for the game to come. Claire was weeping now, and as she stepped toward her boy he retreated the same number of steps. The cream was dripping onto the collar of the robe and she made no move to dab it and Golec could see the whole visage of bruises on her face. There was another story here and he’d be sure to tell the uniforms to return to check it out. Her shoulders shook and Golec could see the collapse coming, the fall to the floor that would follow their retreat into the hallway. He wouldn’t cuff him. Not in front of her now. This was enough of a shock. Aiden just stood there looking at him blankly, waiting.
“We need to go, Miss Hartley,” he told her.
She looked at him, trying
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