Hell's Horizon by Darren Shan

rescheduled for three o’clock Sunday afternoon and took the elevator down to the basement, where I changed out of my uniform again.
    A light breeze was blowing at my back most of the way home and I coasted along with it. As I pulled up outside my apartment block a light went on in a car parked several feet farther up. I glanced over and saw Howard Kett hunched behind the wheel, eyeing me coldly. The light went off and I knew he wanted to see me.
    Leaving my bike, I went to see what Kett was after. I let myself in the passenger door. We sat in darkness for all of a minute, saying nothing, Kett staring directly ahead. He was an old-fashioned cop. Big heart, big hands, big, thick head, of Irish descent. Did a lot of community work in his spare time. Solid gold if you were a law-abiding citizen, one of hell’s demons if you weren’t. He had a special loathing for The Cardinal and those who served him.
    “You’re an arrogant son of a bitch,” he finally growled.
    “You came all this way just to tell me that, Howie?” He hated the nickname. “You should have phoned.”
    “I came this morning but you were gone. Been sitting here more than an hour.”
    “Again—the phone.”
    “You were banging that Hornyak kid.” No beating around the bush. The insolence would have startled me if it had been anybody else. With Kett, I expected it.
    “So what?” I said as evenly as I could.
    “Why didn’t you come forward when you heard what happened?”
    “No point. I was out of town when she was killed. Nothing to tell. I figured, if you wanted to question me, you’d come. And here you are.”
    “Did Casey know you were seeing her?”
    “No,” I lied.
    “Bullshit,” Kett snarled. “I always said his friendship with you would be his downfall. If I find out he knew you were involved with her and deliberately suppressed the information, he’s finished. I’ll drum him out myself.”
    “Bill’s my friend, not my confessor.” I leaned back in the seat and flicked on the overhead light. Kett immediately quenched it—he didn’t want to be seen. “What’s up, Howie? Planning to beat a confession out of me?”
    “Like you wouldn’t have a team of The Cardinal’s finest lawyers on me in ten seconds flat if I did.” He prodded me in the chest. “But I’ll tell you this, Jeery, if you bother Nicholas Hornyak again, I’ll do more than slap you around.”
    “What’s Nick Hornyak got to do with anything?” I asked quietly.
    “I know you were pestering him.”
    “How?”
    “I have my sources,” he said smugly.
    “All I did was ask some questions. He didn’t—”
    “You don’t have the right to ask shit!” Kett roared, then lowered his voice. “You were humping the broad—so what? So was every leprous son of a whore with a one-inch excuse for a dick. Don’t interfere, Jeery. This isn’t your business.”
    “Whose is it? Yours?” I laughed. “You don’t have a hope in hell of finding her killer.”
    “That ain’t here and that ain’t there. I’m paid to check on dumb bitches who go and get themselves fucked over. You aren’t. I don’t want you sniffing around.”
    “You can’t stop me.”
    “No?”
    I smiled in the darkness. “No.”
    Kett cursed quietly. “Let’s talk about this reasonably. We don’t have to be at each other’s throats. You were right when you said we probably won’t find her killer, and if you want to waste your time chasing him, I won’t try blocking you—though I could if I wanted,” he insisted. “But I’ll leave you be as long as you don’t go meddling where you shouldn’t.”
    “I’m listening, Howie.”
    “Nicholas Hornyak didn’t kill her.”
    “I never said he did.”
    “So why question him?”
    “That’s a dumb question for a cop to ask,” I chided him.
    “OK,” he bristled. “You wanted to learn more about her, where she came from, what sort of a life she led. You wanted to rub him up for clues and contacts. I get it. But that’s where it