The Poet (Samantha Jazz)

“Yes, Captain?”

“Be careful.”

The same words I keep hearing from everyone, but from him, there’s an apology beneath those words that I accept with a small nod. Then I get back to business. “Someone needs to check on his wife and kids.”

“We have patrol there now.”

I give another small nod, and the exchange ends there.

Officer Jackson follows me home and, as I have been doing lately, I park on the street beside my apartment. Jackson is right there at my door when I exit, and another officer joins him. None of us speak. We’re all on edge, watching our surroundings. Once we’re at my building door, the second officer remains outside at the entrance, while Jackson and I head upstairs. At my door, Jackson holds up a hand. “I’ll clear the apartment.”

“I can clear the apartment, but thank you.”

“No. I’m doing this,” he insists. “I’ve been tasked with protecting you.”

I’m too tired to argue. I offer him my key and step back. He disappears inside and I wait. And wait. I wait too long. My adrenaline begins a slow rise. I pace back and forth. Something feels off. I dial patrol. My phone won’t work. I try again. It still won’t work. Someone is using a portable cell phone jammer. And there is only one person I know of who has that kind of skill.

I draw my weapon and cautiously enter the apartment. Silence greets me and I can’t get eyes on Jackson. I begin a search, clearing the kitchen and then the bedroom, heading cautiously into the bathroom and closet. Finding nothing, I head back downstairs and go to the one place that is left. The stairs that lead to the attic.

Slowly, I take one step at a time, my heart thundering in my ears. I inhale as I step into the room, a vise closing around my throat at what I find. Jackson is knocked out at my feet, a syringe beside him. Wade is tied to a chair and unconscious, but he’s not naked, which tells me he refused to undress. I’m not sure how Nolan knocked him out or how he got him in the chair.

Nolan is standing beside Wade with a pill pressed to Wade’s lips, and in the depths of Nolan’s eyes is an evil I hadn’t seen during our prior encounters. I feel that evil now, too. Lang was right. Nolan is not one man, but two, at the very least. This is the killer’s side of Nolan’s personality, the one I haven’t met in person until today. Stubble covers his normally clean-shaven jaw, and his white button-down shirt is wrinkled. He looks frazzled, drugged even, running on no sleep. A man of control losing control, which, in my experience, is a bomb about to blow.

“They aren’t dead,” he says. “Yet. They’ll end up like Roberts and be dead if you don’t do as I say.”

The confirmation that Roberts is dead is a brutal one that does what he hopes. It tells me he really will kill Wade and Jackson, and probably me, too. “What do you want, Nolan?”

“Drop your gun or I’ll shove this in your boyfriend’s mouth and kill him right now.”

I decide right then that I will never complain about someone calling Wade my boyfriend ever again. I’m fairly certain Jackson injected himself to save Wade.

I kneel and set my gun down, but there’s a second one in my desk drawer. I’m paranoid that way. “Okay. Now what?”

He motions to another chair that used to be in my kitchen against the wall, beside the desk. “Sit.”

I don’t argue. That desk is closer to him and Wade. It also has my backup weapon inside it. I need to be in that chair. I do as he says, crossing the room and claiming the chair. Now he’s got Wade positioned in profile to me and Jackson. He’s behind Wade, but he’s on this side of him, which is a problem. He could grab for me if I reach for the drawer.

“How did you get Wade to sit down?” I ask, trying to keep him talking. “He’s a big guy.”

“Big isn’t a weapon against drugs. He didn’t even know I was here.”

He got him from behind, I think. “And Jackson? Did he inject himself to protect Wade?”

“He did. I wasn’t sure he was that brave, but he proved otherwise.”

And I doubted him. I couldn’t feel shittier right now. “What did you inject them with?”

“Heroin. A heavy dose.” He reaches into his pocket. “They’ll need these.” He holds up two syringes. “An epinephrine boost. It could cause a heart attack, but that’s their only hope.”

My own heart about stops with those words. “Give them the shots and I’ll do anything you want.”

He’s still holding the pill, and he also has the syringes. The pill is no longer at Wade’s mouth, but I’m not sure I can get to him before he changes that.