Deklan glances away from me, focusing for a second on the wall clock.
“Sleep now,” he says softly. “I love you, my wife.”
Chapter 26
At four in the morning, I’m awakened by pounding at the door. It’s so loud, I startle awake with a jerk and a slight scream. I quickly cover with my mouth.
“Wait here,” Deklan says, but before he can even get out of the bed, the door bursts open, and uniformed police officers invade the apartment.
They file in with guns drawn, screaming commands about keeping our hands up and not moving. Detective Warren, the man who questioned me at the hospital, is in the lead.
“What the fuck, Warren?” Deklan yells as he jumps up with his hands raised. “You better have a fucking warrant!”
“I certainly do, Kearney,” Detective Warren says. “This one is for your arrest.”
“What is going on?” I cry as two officers grab De
klan’s arms and pull them behind him, but no one pays any attention to me.
“For what?” Deklan glares at the officers but doesn’t resist as they place him in handcuffs.
“The murder of Michael Hardy.”
“Who the fuck is that?” Deklan asks.
“You probably know him better as Crackers.”
“Can’t say that I do.”
“Crackers, the pimp,” Warren says.
“Someone pops a lowlife pimp, and you think it’s me?” Deklan laughs.
“Yes, I do.”
“I’m married, asshole. I don’t need a hooker.”
“Yeah, but you’d still kill a pimp if your boss told you to,” Warren says as he holds up the warrant for Deklan to read.
“I was with my wife all night, boys,” Deklan says after glancing at the paper. “You aren’t pinning this on me.”
“Sure you were.” The cop sneers and tightens the cuffs around Deklan’s wrists until he grimaces.
“Do you mind if I put on my fucking pants first?” Deklan nods toward a pair of sweatpants neatly folded on the top of the dresser. “It’s kinda cold out there.”
“You got sloppy, Kearney,” Warren says. He nods at one of the cops to grab the sweatpants. “Used your own gun and dumped it way too close to the crime scene. You aren’t getting out of this one.”
“Deklan, what’s happening? What are they talking about?”
“Your husband is a criminal,” one of the cops says, “and he is finally going to get what’s coming to him.”
“It’s all right, Kera.” Deklan ignores the cop and looks right at me. “It’s all going to be fine. Just some kind of mistake. Don’t worry, babe.”
“Search everywhere,” Warren says. “There’s no telling what we’ll find.”
I follow as Deklan is hauled out of the bedroom and into the living room. More officers come in from the hallway outside the apartment door and start going through drawers and cabinets in the kitchen.
“Dek?” I stare into my husband’s apologetic eyes, too confused and scared to make sense of what is happening.