“Cole isn’t trying to fool me, and I’m not trying to fool him. We’ve seen each other’s scars. You think you’re a good man? I bet there’s something you’re ashamed of. Something you’ve never told anyone. Cole’s told it all to me. ALL of it. I’m not saying he’s a saint. But he is honest.”
“An honest killer?” Hawks sneers.
“You’ve never shot anyone?” I sneer right back at him.
“I’m a cop. It’s my job to catch criminals.”
“Yeah? I bet you only shot them when you had to, right? I bet every time you pulled your gun out, you absolutely had to do it, there was no other way. No part of you made a judgment on that person. No part of you thought they deserved to die.”
Hawks stares at me through the smudged lenses of his glasses.
My time with Cole has taught me to look for signals: the motions on the face that the mind can’t control.
For Hawks, it’s a twitch of his right eyelid, blinking over his iris like a camera shutter.
He doesn’t even know he’s doing it.
But he can’t escape the confirmation in my face. We both know that he sees a killer in Cole because he sees something familiar: a man who crosses the line when he feels it’s necessary. When he thinks he’s justified.
“I’m going to put him in prison for a hundred years,” Hawks hisses, his nose inches from mine. “Help me to do it, or I swear to god, I’ll book you as an accomplice. I’ll make sure you see prison time along with him. You’ll be splashed across every fucking paper: the Karla Homolka to his Paul Bernardo.”
Hawks has no idea how accurate that may soon become. But not in the way he thinks.
As I try to push past him, Hawks seizes my upper arm. I don’t shake him off, not even when his fingers dig into my flesh.
“You live in his house now. You could let me inside. Let me search the place. I’ll do it when he’s not home. He doesn’t even have to know.”
Hawks is unaware that Cole has cameras all over the house. Regardless, there’s no evidence to be found. Cole’s not that fucking stupid.
He’s only left evidence out in the open one time: inside Fragile Ego. I’ve begged Cole to buy the sculpture back and destroy it, but he doesn’t want to. He says it’s too beautiful.
This is the one point on which he is utterly irrational. Cole loves his art. He’d no sooner destroy it than he’d destroy me.
I almost want to let Hawks search the house just to show him how fucking stupid he’s being.
On the other hand, he’s not completely wrong. Cole is a murderer, just not the one he’s looking for.
The only way to deal with Hawks is to keep him at bay until we can deliver Shaw gift-wrapped. Just in time for Christmas.
Calmly, I remove Hawks’ fingers from my arm, grabbing his pinky and bending it back until he lets go.
“You’re wrong,” I tell him, flatly. “You’ll see it for yourself soon enough.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The Beast of the Bay kills three times. Have you noticed that?”
Hawks goes still, eyes glinting behind his glasses. “Last time was four.”
My stomach lurches.
Can’t think about that. Picturing Erin drowned on my bed doesn’t fucking help her.
“The point is, he started a new cycle. Why don’t you try tailing Shaw on your off-hours? Either you’ll catch him in the act … or you’ll save a girl from becoming his next victim.”
To his credit, Hawks actually considers this idea. But then his eyes narrow and he hisses, “Sounds like you want to clear the way for your boyfriend’s nocturnal activities.”
I’m losing my patience.
“If that’s what you think, then there’s no point continuing this conversation. I would NEVER help a man hurt another woman. I’m a ladies’ lady and always will be.”
Shaking off Hawks, I storm into the building.
Sonia is already hurrying over, having seen the whole thing through the window. She looks ready to rip Hawks a new asshole if he hadn’t let go of me.
Sonia is also a ladies’ lady.
When she sees that I’m fucking fuming, she puts her arm around my shoulders
“You want me to call his boss?” she says. “Or better yet—I’ll call Cole.”
“No need. I told him off myself.”
“I’ll bet you did,” Sonia grins approvingly. “You’re turning into quite the little hellcat.”