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Parker Cassata was led out of his little house on the shore in handcuffs. Just like his would-be assassin. He did what he was told and played ball with Nashida and the FBI. Everything played out exactly the way Nashida predicted. Thank God. Things almost got ugly inside there. That bastard in black would have eaten him alive.
"Come on!" one of the agents yelled at him.
Another of the other agents grabbed him by the back of his coat and pushed him toward the black SUVs.
"Hey! I thought we were on the same side!"
"Shut up. We aren't on the same side as kid killers."
The agent threw open the door and pushed him into the seat. Nashida promised him they'd be working together. This didn't seem like they were all that together. But Nashida did say that if he played along, he'd get a commuted sentence. They promised him eight years. Eight was a lot better than fifteen. But as he looked at the little blue shack on the shore he was proud to call home, eight years felt like a long time.
"Great work, snitch," the same agent said, closing the door.
Snitch? He was a hero. This was his redemption. He helped catch the bad guy this time instead of being one. Parker could have stayed quiet and went back to his cell and let prison guards get off watching him shower, but he didn't. He stepped up. He was a hero this time. Right?
Cassata took one last look at the little house and realized they were about to leave Nightmute. Maybe he could come back someday.
In eight years.
Sniff.
Cassata curled his lip and choked back the urge to vomit. "What the hell is that smell?"