Body Copy - Michael Craven [89]
“Congratulations, Tremaine. You figured it out. Only problem is, what makes you think I won’t kill you, like I did them? No one would ever know. No one’s even going to hear the gun go off.”
279
Michael Craven
John Lopez moved from behind one of the rocks he was hiding behind to another, closer rock. He’d been there, waiting, the entire time. Listening as Tremaine pulled a confession out of the man now pointing a gun at him.
Tremaine heard Lopez, Evan didn’t, not listening for him.
Tremaine made a slight movement with his right hand, un-noticed by Evan, telling Lopez, hang on one more second.
Tremaine knew Lopez was itching to pop out and hold his gun on Evan. But Lopez listened to Tremaine’s sign and stayed still behind the rock, no doubt with his gun cocked, his body clenched and ready for action.
Tremaine said, “Put down the gun, Evan.”
He stepped toward him, closer.
“Take one more step and I’ll blow your head off, Tremaine.”
Tremaine continued toward Evan.
“You’re not going to shoot me, Evan. The only reason you killed those other two people was because your heart told you to. Your heart isn’t telling you to kill me. You can’t do it.”
Sweat began to drip from Evan’s face and his finger clenched the trigger of the gun, tighter, tighter. “You’re a dead man, Tremaine. No one will know. No one’s going to hear anything.”
Tremaine, slowly, carefully, moved closer.
Evan said, “I walked into Kelly’s apartment and a man I’d never seen before was on top of her and they looked at me and laughed. I’ve never felt anything like I felt at that moment. I drove home, so mad I couldn’t see, and I got 280
B O D Y C O P Y
my gun. And I drove back to Kelly’s getting angrier and angrier and angrier. And, almost without thinking, I was someone else, I shot Kelly in the face. And then I took the butt of the gun and I hit that fucker in the head. Hard, with everything I had. But I didn’t even feel it.” Evan paused and said, “I couldn’t help it, Tremaine, I couldn’t help it.”
Tremaine was no more than an inch away from the barrel of Evan’s gun.
Evan, sweating, shaking, said, “I’m going to shoot you, Tremaine. I have to. I’m going to shoot you.”
“No, you’re not,” Tremaine said.
In one motion, Tremaine took the gun away from Evan and twisted him around, then shoved him forward, sending him down to the ground, his face now entrenched in the cold sand.
Lopez sprang from behind the rocks and threw some cuffs on the man Tremaine had pinned to the ground.
Before he read the man his rights for killing two people, he turned to Tremaine and said, “You’re not insane, Tremaine. You’re fucking crazy.”
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C H A P T E R 4 0
Sitting at Nina’s house two nights later, Tremaine could feel the fatigue from the stress of the case still flow-ing out of his body. He had wine in his hand, Nina sitting across from him, and Lyle right there on the floor because Nina had suggested bringing him. It was nice, relaxing, and, as he talked to Nina about the final details of the case, he felt good. Good and tired and relaxed.
“Well, Donald, here we are,” Nina said.
“Here we are.”
“It seems like a long time ago that I was introducing myself to you.”
“Indeed. The ups and downs of a case always seem to make the days a little longer.”
Tremaine and Nina sipped their wine, the alcohol hit-B O D Y C O P Y
ting them both in just the right spot. Lyle was on his best behavior as a guest in another person’s house. Dead asleep.
“I had fun surfing the other day,” she said.
“I did, too. You were good. Room for improvement, but you were good.”
Nina smiled. That same smile that actually hurt Donald Tremaine.
They ate some dinner—Nina roasted a bird—and then she suggested doing something that Donald didn’t see coming. She said, “Let’s watch a movie.”
“Good idea,” Tremaine said.
“How ’bout Insane Tremaine?”
Tremaine laughed and said, “I’m afraid I don’t have a copy of that one.”
“That