Back in the saddle again! And almost at 40K words, too. Things are still on the beam.
“I’m just trying to get by,” the enchanter whined. “Most of the stuff I… found… it works fine. What’s the big deal?”
It’s hard to tell when Foster’s pissed, for real. Or maybe she just doesn’t ever stop being pissed, and sometimes doesn’t feel like hiding it. “You really gonna go with that? ‘What’s the big deal?’ What, the fact you got pulled into this station isn’t maybe a clue how much crap you’re wading in right now? You’re one bad answer away from getting dunked the rest of the way, pal. It ain’t no skin off my nose if you take the fall for all of this. It’d make the file nice and clean, too.”
Gannon isn’t usually the Good Cop, but he knows the lines. “Now, Lieutenant,” he gently chided, “let’s not rush into this. We should give Mister Pickney here a chance to think about what he’s done. And maybe what other people have done, hmm? I’m sure a few minutes won’t hurt the files any.”
“Five,” said Foster flatly. “He gets five minutes to get his head on a damn swivel. God, I’m sick of the sight of him.” She stormed out of the interview room… and right into the observation room with me.
She tossed me a glare. “You gonna critique my performance?”
I considered it for a second. “Nah. It was pretty solid, honestly. Extra points for ‘head on a swivel,’ in fact. I didn’t know you were into the Lore.”
“Extra credit on the Flatfoot exam. How fast is Joe gonna get him to break loose, you think?”
“Three of your five minutes, tops.” I looked through the glass. “This guy, he ain’t what I’d call real brave. But he’s smart enough to take the hint that it’s time to give King’s Evidence. I don’t like him for making the Seeking Raven, though.”