The Serpent's Kiss

38

Derek sat sprawled over two chairs in what passed for the interrogation room at the Birmingham Police Department. Overall, he thought Birmingham had just about the nicest interrogation room he had ever been in. The entire department seemed more set up as a tourist bureau than real law enforcement. Derek figured that was part of their charter — don’t scare the locals with anything gritty.

He had ignominiously taken his pants off, propped up his leg and demanded an ice pack, which was now resting on his knee. They had stuck him in here and disappeared, probably to make phone calls to the FBI and whoever else they felt inclined to consult with.

Derek was trying to be patient. He reminded himself that he had been fighting this assignment in the first place. If he were to be completely consistent, he should be happy getting sidelined so he could fly to Mexico in pursuit of the terrorist calling himself The Fallen. Instead, he felt the weight of sixty-some college kids whose lives he had been unable to save.

Thinking that way did no good. His thoughts kept returning to William Harrington’s house. He was fairly confident that William Harrington was The Serpent. The booby-trap in the office, the murdered ex-wife, the overall skill set. A biochemist with a background in chemical terrorism scenarios and an ax to grind. He’d gone off his nut. Now all Derek had to do was either prove it — or convince somebody else, like Jill Church or Matt Gray, that they had to do something about it.

Derek picked up the ice pack and studied his knee. It was swelling, although he hoped the ice pack would help cut that down. It also throbbed and he had made the mistake of putting his full weight on it shortly after being dragged from the police car. He wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to walk for a while. What he really needed was ice, rest, and some Percocet.

There was a knock at the door, then it opened and Jill Church walked in. She paused for a moment to take in his leg and the fact he was sitting there in his white Jockey underwear. Her expression was grim, lines radiating out from her eyes and the corners of her mouth. She seemed to have aged a few years in the last hour.

“You’ve looked better,” she said.

He cocked his head. “I’ve already been detained. What are you going to do, drag me back to the city and turn me in to Gray for assault?”

She shook her head. “As hard as this is to believe, Stillwater, things have gone totally to hell since you stole my car.”

“Borrowed. I borrowed your car,” he said. “What do you want, Church?”

“I’m getting you out of here. Come on.”

He shook his head. “That might be a problem.”

Hands on her hips, she stepped closer to him. Her voice was a menacing hiss. “Stillwater, I’m not in the mood. One of our agents was killed in the city. They suspect he might be The Serpent. Everything’s gone to shit and I think it’s all a diversion. Now is not the time for you to be an asshole.”

Derek couldn’t stop his grin. He waved at his knee. “Uh, the problem is I don’t think I can support my weight. I need a crutch or something. And, um, I might need help getting my pants on.”

She glared at him, then turned and stomped out of the interrogation room, leaving the door open.

Derek felt unreasonably merry. “And if you could get a sandwich or something?” he called after her. “I’m hungry.”