Page 42 of On Fire

Finn relaxes slightly and then leans back against the car seat. “I’m sorry. None of this is my business. I just can’t believe he’s going to go through this shit. This will kill him.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Kill him,” he repeats in a voice so soft I almost don’t catch it.

He glances at me again. “Sorry. Again. I was out of line.”

“I get it. You’re worried about your friend,” I start to say and then add something I didn’t see coming, “but I care about him too—so this makes this hard for both of us.”

Despite everything that’s happened in the last hour, Finn smiles. “You nailed it.”

΅

When we pull into the station Carlson and Nic are not in the parking lot and must already be inside. I’m grateful Carlson didn’t run lights to bring him in.

By the time Finn’s surrendered his two weapons, I’ve already positioned myself at the glass so I can watch. It’s not like in television shows where everyone stands around waiting for a confession in front of a freshly cleaned pane of one-way glass. This is a crappy spot in the basement of the building, subterranean and damp, the glass smeared, and weirdly blue. And it’s small, maybe three feet by four in total.

Finn rubs his hands and joins me on a small backless bench to watch.

Nic sits there unflappable, then takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Luke finds it hilarious I meditate, but it does center you and watching him breathe, I find myself taking in breaths when he does, exhaling through my nose and then inhaling intentionally. I try to dissolve the subject/object line and merge with him and everything else in consciousness.

When the door opens, we are both jolted into the immediate and Finn sits up.

One of the agents is from the tabletop training, the man, Craig. The other introduces himself as special agent Wade Sessions. For some reason, this guy makes me nervous. He was also there but I didn’t like him then either.

A glance to Finn proves me right. Both Finn and Nic can read people—it’s what they do for a living. Cupping his hand over his mouth he twists in my direction and whispers in my ear. “Sessions is going to be trouble.”

“How can you tell?”

His eyes don’t leave the interrogation room and his answer isn’t an answer. “He thinks he has something on him. Listen,” he says suddenly. “I’m going to stand right outside the door and throw interference if anyone tries to come in. Nic needs some privacy.” As if on cue there’s a rap. But it’s just Bryce.

“What the fuck is going on?” This, from a man who literally can’t whisper. His raspy question bounces off the walls.

Finn quickly explains in general terms why Nic’s been brought in.

“I didn’t know he knew the victim,” Bryce says and goes quiet, mulling something over. Then, without consulting Finn, he adds, “I think I should stand outside the door and keep wandering eyes out. That a good idea?”

Finn puts a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks. I was just going to do that myself.”

Before he settles next to me again, Finn turns the volume up on the speaker.

“Can you tell us again where you were?” Craig asks.

Nic explains about dinner with Claire and Finn, getting the call from Jackson and then running to the Blue Wave.

“And your instructions to Jackson Dawes were to carry the bomb to the vault and get out.”

“Correct.”

“And how did you know there was a bank vault in the basement?”

There’s no pause at all before Nic answers, “Because I’ve been there.”

“You’ve been to the Blue Wave on assignments?” This is the only question Sessions has coughed up so far.

“No. I’ve been there as a patron. A customer.”

“I see,” Sessions says. If he was hoping to get Nic to say more, he’s failed.

Craig takes a up a different line. “How did you feel when you found out a colleague, a man who works for you, was in danger?”

Nic remains in a stoic trance. “I was terrified, frankly. The people who work for me are my responsibility. Their safety and the safety of our clients is paramount.”