Page 3 of The Devil's Mercy

“I don’t have to feel bad that she’s dead to know what you did was wrong.” Truthfully, no, he didn’t feel bad for the nowdeceased cop. She’d been nice to him when she’d been alive, but that was before he’d discovered her involvement with the case he’d been working.

Before she’d helped murder Police Chief Bruce, whom Cal actually had cared for.

Some dark, inner voice whispered he probably wouldn’t feel bad even if none of that were true, asked him if he even really believed that it was, but he silenced it and focused on the director.

“What’s right and wrong, really?” Titus slipped his hands into the front pockets of the form-fitting black slacks he was wearing, drawing attention to his impeccable style of dress.

It was as though he hadn’t just killed one cop and kidnapped another. He’d removed the dark brown blazer he’d been in when Calix had arrived, but the cashmere black turtleneck was still on, making it seem like he was ready to head to a cocktail party.

It was off-putting because it gave the impression that this wasn’t unusual for him. That shooting something at point-blank range wasn’t unusual.

“Yeah,” Cal backtracked, “actually. Tell me about yourself.” If they had to talk about something, he’d much rather be in charge of the topic. The fact he didn’t give a shit about Amory wasn’t exactly making him feel good about himself.

Titus was right. He was always running.

And he didn’t plan on stopping any time soon.

The corner of the director’s mouth curved upward ever so slightly, but that was the only indication he gave that he found Calix’s change of heart amusing. “Let’s see…You already covered the long walks on the beach part.” He hummed, clearly pretending to think it over.

“You’re always like this,” Cal blurted before he could help himself. “Coy and unattainable.”

“I’d make an offhanded remark about how we haven’t known each other long enough for you to make that observation, but I’ll save us both the bother. As much as you loathe discussing the past, you’re the one who brought us back to it this time.”

Calix opened his mouth to disagree, but Titus wasn’t finished.

“Your trial went on for over three months, and I was there almost every step of the way.”

“You shouldn’t have been,” Cal said, recalling how confused he’d been by the then-surgeon’s constant presence. “Why’d they even let you?”

Originally, he’d been Nero’s doctor, and later brought on to conduct a medical examination to present to the court. As a naïve eighteen-year-old kid, Calix hadn’t realized just how strange that was, but he’d started to wonder more and more about it when he’d attended the Academy. The only reason he’d never been able to ask Bruce about it had been the slight fear the chief would also realize how overly involved Titus had been.

It wasn’t like he could reopen the case, and Cal didn’t think Bruce would have done that to him anyway, but still.

Sometimes it was better to count your blessings and move on, even if you didn’t fully understand the whole process. That’s how Calix had chosen to view that entire period of his life, and he didn’t appreciate how often the director tried to ruin that for him.

“I have no interest in facing my demons,” he plainly stated.

“Unfortunately, Detective, that isn’t going to work for me. I let you get away long enough, don’t you think? You’ve had your fun and your freedoms. It’s time to come back.”

“To what?” Cal shook his head. He was trying to distract him with nonsense. “They needed you to explain Nero’s current state and how it’d happened, how the impact from my hovercarbruised his front, but that his spine broke from hitting the pavement. How the force with which he fell after you viewed the video proved I’d slammed on the brakes as soon as I realized what I was doing. But…None of that makes any logical sense. None of that is viable proof in a court of law on any planet.”

Why hadn’t he noticed sooner?

Why hadn’t anyone?

“Don’t try so hard,” Titus suggested. “Some things don’t make sense.”

“Did you have something on the judge?” His brow furrowed. “On Bruce?”

“Nothing like that.”

“Then…?”

“I made them feel like they needed me there. I made them feel like theyneeded mein general.”

If anyone else had said that, Calix would have laughed in their face and called their bluff. But the director wasn’t bluffing, and what’s more, Cal believed him. More than one person had discussed feeling odd in the director’s presence, himself included.

“Does that have something to do with you being a Connect?” Calix wished he’d paid more attention to Troya, his partner, when the guy had started talking about what Titus was.

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