Page 10 of Wild Devil

He’s pointing to the lifeline running through the heart of this gated community, where headlights pierce the darkness. Instantly, I shut my mouth. “Son of a bitch.” I drop down next to Ben, knocking over our gnome sidekick in the process.

Someone’s arriving, alright. From here, I can’t be completely sure, but they don’t seem to be Silas. In fact, the figure surrounded by police cars is the last person I’d suspect would be meeting with Heywood.

“That’s the police commissioner,” Marco remarks, crouching beside me. “I know that face. He did all kinds of dealings with Cortez. Usually making sure the police stayed out of his way.”

“Doesn’t look like he’s on duty, that’s for damn sure,” Ben remarks beside me. “What could he want with Heywood?”

“Don’t know,” I hiss. “Doesn’t look like he’s here to bust the bastard for kidnapping either. I wish we could hear what they’re saying.”

“Speak of the fucking devil, and he shall appear.” A figure dressed in all black vaults over the hedge bush just feet away. I tense, readying for a fight. Then I recognize the figure’s crazy-ass grin and gleaming green eyes. “Did you miss me?” Damien pulls himself upright and withdraws something from his pocket. “You can thank Lex for this. He planted a bug on the outside of the window before we arrived. He said he nearly got his head blown off in the process, so this better be worth it.”

“Did you check out how many guards he has on him?”

“Too many to take on with the four of us,” he replies with a shrug. Then, he extends the tiny device on the palm of his hand. “Now shut the fuck up, and let’s see what the bastard is really up to.”

“How do you work this thing?” Marco wonders.

“Well, turn it on for starters,” Damien explains. “Now you just twist that little dial until—yeah, we should hear something through it now. Just wait.”

Amid a rustling of static, I can barely make out the tinkling of silverware. Heywood and his wife have finished eating, and she’s gathering the dishes at full speed. Their apparent guest hasn’t even entered the house and it’s like the entire mood has changed. The wife is edgy, practically racing around the room to clear the table amid the thud of what must be plates. Heywood, however, remains seated, watching her work. They don’t trade a single word, making it hard to know if the bug is working or not. At least until a new figure says, “The commissioner has arrived, sir.”

“Good.” Finally, Heywood rises to his feet and moves out of range of the window. “Show him in.”

Heywood’s wife keeps fiddling with something at her place setting, picking it up. Setting it down. Finally, she sighs.

“Michael, I know you’re upset with Frances, but do you really think she should stay there all night? Would it be so bad to let her stay in her old room? I could watch her?—”

“Enough,” Heywood snaps, rendering her silent. “Don’t make a scene before our guests.”

As he speaks, more people enter the room, but I can only make out shuffling sounds and terse greetings. The guest of honor chooses to sit just out of view of the window, preventing a clear shot with either the binoculars or a camera.

“Smart fucker,” I mutter under my breath. “This isn’t their first rodeo.”

“No, it isn’t,” Marco agrees. “This whole setup has the air of a high-stakes meeting. Done out in the open but with coded words and shit, so nothing can be proven. Yeah, the cops can say that you two met, but they can’t confirm that anything was discussed other than wedding plans and kids. They just didn’t realize that ‘plans’ was code for gun smuggling.”

“I’m sure my old man used that trick once or twice in his day,” I say coldly. “I wonder what code words Heywood uses.”

“Well, let’s hope we can find out,” Ben says. Suddenly he cocks his head and gestures to the bug.

“Good evening,” Heywood says, “I’m surprised you could stop by on such short notice.”

I instantly react to the ice in his tone. This isn’t a happy little meeting, it seems. No. The tension is so thick I could slice it with one of those fancy butter knives.

“Yes, well, I’ve been keeping abreast of your election, and I wanted to touch base with the man at the center of such chaos. You’ve been a busy man, Heywood.”

“That doesn’t sound very friendly,” Ben whispers.

I nod, still listening.

Despite the obvious hostility, the next few minutes pass in relative polite monotony. Boring, basic bullshit that could be the poorly-written script of some shitty sitcom rather than anything a normal couple would talk about.

Again, this whole mess is starting to feel like a waste of time.

“Daze!” Ben rams my shoulder, snapping me out of the murderous fantasy. “You hear that?”

“What?” I focus back on the receiver. Heywood and his visitor are still talking, but the mood has decidedly changed.

“…arrangements have been made, I hope.”

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