Twisted and Tied (Marshals 4)

It felt like that.

As Hartley sat there like a circling orca waiting to eat me, I thought, how stupid am I? Letting my guard down was idiotic. How had I ever been soothed into trusting Hartley?

It all went back to the last time I’d seen him and had everything to do with my dog.

All of my fear had been expelled because of Chickie.

He’d saved my dog.

How were you supposed to be scared of someone who saved your dog?

“Miro?” he prodded gently.

“I— When his boss said he knew you best… I was suspicious.”

“Suspicious or jealous?”

“Jealous?” Had I heard him right?

“That someone was claiming to be closer to me than you.”

“But there are lots of people, I’m sure.”

“I’ve outgrown so many.”

“Well, he was talkin’ out of his ass,” I said, looking past him at Kelson when I said it.

“I was not!” he roared, which got a slow pan from Hartley.

Instant silence as Kelson swung around to look out the front window.

“How he was trying to blame that mess on you was ridiculous,” I continued.

“He told me you’d believe it, but I knew better.”

I shrugged. “You know I pay attention.”

“Yes, I do,” he practically purred.

I took a breath. “So what’s the plan now?”

“I have no idea,” he answered, his smile serene, almost bored. No, really bored.

“Holy shit,” I blurted. What I thought I was hearing, seeing, was actually God’s honest truth. He all but sighed like an angsty teen with nothing to do on a Saturday night. I had seen hundreds of emotions cross the man’s face over the years, but this was brand-new, and I was stunned. How in the world did a serial killer wake up in the morning and find themselves filled with ennui? How was that even possible?

He startled. “What?”

“You’re bored,” I announced, matter-of-fact. “Jesus Christ.”

He gave me a dismissive wave.

“You are. That’s why you’re leaving. That’s why you haven’t killed anybody in—how long’s it been?”

He had to think. “Since whatshisname in your house, the one who was passed out.”

“When you killed him, that was more to prove a point than anything else.”

“It was.” He yawned. “True.”

“You know, for fun, you might let the FBI catch you. Then you can fuck with the profilers, play mind games with them.”

He sighed. “I actually thought about that, but when you’re captured, there’s always so much manhandling, and people are so rough. I just want to be spoken to nicely, treated like a gentleman, not like a common criminal.”

He really was ten kinds of crazy.

“And the supermax was so boring, you really have no idea.”

“You realize they’re made like that on purpose.”

He made a noise of agreement.

“What if I stayed with you the whole time until you were incarcerated, and what if the supermax was off the table?”

“Well, for one, you would have to go home eventually, and for two, you can’t say for certain where I’ll go, and now this Ryerson thinks I’ve done something to him personally, and that’s going to be—”

“I can fix that,” I asserted, studying him. “I told him that wasn’t you, and I can let him know that it was Kelson who took his son.”

He grimaced, unconvinced.

“Your track record speaks for itself. It’s not like you to target anyone in law enforcement.”

“Except you.”

“Not because I was a cop and now a marshal, but because I saved your life.”

“That’s true.”

“Believe me, I can explain what happened.”

“And you’d do that for me?”

“It’s the truth,” I said, avoiding that trap.

He pointed over his shoulder at Kelson. “Well, all I ever wanted was access to the FBI, which I had first with Wojno and then with Kelson.”

“Right.”

“But my interests have changed,” he said deliberately, flicking his pale blue eyes to mine, holding for a moment, and then dropping them. The action told me all I needed to know about Kelson’s life expectancy. He was one step from the grave.

But Hartley would never kill him in the van. He wouldn’t want any splatter.

“So you’re flying to Europe?” I asked for clarification.

“Yes,” he said with an indulgent smile, and we both heard my question as I intended it, that he, no one else, was traveling. I couldn’t see the driver’s face, but he was good, whoever he was, because the van had not slowed once since I got in. Of course Stigler was wrong; they had taken me rather quickly past the safe zone she’d set up.

“You know,” he said after only moments, “I do believe you’re the only person I’ve ever truly cared for.”

“Such as that is,” I teased, but gently. Poking a viper was never a wise decision.

“True,” he said, smiling fondly before turning to look over his shoulder out the front window.

I could have rushed him, done something, but we’d developed a strange trust between us that I didn’t want to mess with. The idea of returning to a time when I feared what he would do to me was exhausting even to consider. In my life now, he was not one of my day-to-day concerns. I didn’t want to change that. I didn’t need the arrow back on me. I did need to check something, though.