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I PRESSED MY KEYS AND the phone into Trina’s hands, then wheeled to face Hauser. Thinking fast, I raised the gun and pointed it right at him.
He was three steps away, other side of the king-size bed. He wasn’t armed, and he didn’t look too worried about the cops. When I brandished the gun, he only looked confused. “What’s that?”
It was still wrapped in the brown paper bag. I didn’t want to get a lot of my evidence on it, so I grabbed the paper covering the barrel of the gun and tore that off like a straw’s wrapper. I still had paper in my hand, but Hauser could see the threat.
“Oh!” he said, and then chuckled. “You gonna shoot me, kid?”
I raised my chin and tried a bluff. “I shot Derrick.”
“Derrick said you hit him with a soda bottle.”
I deflated at that. “Derrick’s alive?”
“He’s on his way here. We’ll get everything sorted out.”
“But the cops—”
“I took care of the cops. Told ‘em some punk was trying to SWAT a gamer in 308, and they said yeah, that’s been happening.”
“But we called in—”
“I know,” he said. “You made it sound bad. That’s what the kids who SWAT gamers do.”
“But—”
“Face it,” he said. “You weren’t smart enough. Listen!”
He raised a hand theatrically to his ear, and almost on cue, the distant wail of police sirens diminished as one shut off. It was the faintest and most distant, but a moment later another dropped from the chorus.
We stood in silent, frozen tableau, listening as one after another siren went still.
The last was the closest. It must have been right outside. I was hoping in it. Praying for the sound of a slamming car door and a demanding knock downstairs.
Hauser was waiting for it, too. I could see it in the squint of his beady eyes and the sweat on his forehead. None of us moved. None of us breathed.
Then the car downstairs squawked once and went silent. I still held hope for that pounding on the door, but I heard the roar of an engine and the spatter sound of gravel and broken glass as he left the parking lot in a hurry.
Hauser’s face split into a victorious grin. “As I said, I handled it—”
He stopped dead at the sound of a single gunshot. Close by. And then five more in rapid succession. And then the police siren at full volume.
Like someone at the apartments had opened fire on a departing police officer. Like—
“Cass!” Hauser spat. “That was Cass.”
I stepped forward and jabbed the gun at him. “That’s right! Now you better run—”
He cut me off with a sneer of contempt. “I don’t run, kid.”
I waved at his stuffed suitcase. “What’s that, then.”
He wrinkled his nose instead of answering. He wasn’t scared of me. At all. He was annoyed. That rattled me even more than it hurt my pride.
“Gun’s got to be getting heavy, kid,” he said. “You can see I’m not armed here. What say you lower your weapon and talk to me like a gentleman?”
He wasn’t wrong. Even empty, the gun felt like a lead weight, especially holding it extended like a cop in a standoff. And he didn’t seem the least afraid. Could he tell it wasn’t loaded? The slide was closed. The safety was on, but I was keeping that hidden by my thumb. Could he tell? I didn’t know enough about guns.
He heaved a big sigh. “What’s your plan?”
Shoot. What was my plan? I lowered the gun—it was empty anyway—but still kept it trained on him. I held it down at waist level, like a hardboiled detective in some old movie.
“Talk!” I snapped. It felt right.
But he only frowned. “I am talking. I’m doing all the talking.”
He was. I wished again that I had some kind of hidden wire recording all this. That would have been a good plan.
My plan was to bring the cops here and show them Trina. The sirens were converging on the apartments again thanks to that gunshot. All I had to do was keep Hauser talking.
“Cass is my plan,” I said, bluffing like I was winning. “While you’re distracted by me, she’s out there picking apart your team and—”
I paused as more gunfire rang out. Three quick shots from something heavy like a rifle or shotgun. Then answering fire from a dozen handguns. In the distance, more sirens joined the song.
Hauser heard it all, too. He went a little paler.
I nodded, more confident. “This was our plan, Hauser. Draw you here, isolate your people, hand them over to the authorities, and pin you under so much evidence you could never escape it.”
His eyes went wide. He hadn’t seen that coming. He opened his mouth, then shut it again a moment later. Flabbergasted.
I leaned into his sudden doubt. “You didn’t think you’d get away with it, did you?” It felt good to be the one who knew what was happening for a change.
But... what was happening? After a hail of gunfire, things had gotten quieter outside. Cass knew where we were, right? Was she leading the cops to the admin building? Or was she in a firefight with Hauser’s thugs?
I had two good options. I could try to talk Hauser into running from the cops and use the opportunity to free Trina. He’d said Derrick was coming to reinforce him, but the gunfire in the parking lot would probably slow him down.
My other option was simply to keep Hauser talking and trust Cass or the cops to bring a solution to me. That was the strategy play, right? I’d set everything up to win that way. I needed to stick to the plan. The cops could handle Hauser in a way I never could.
He looked a little bit like a fish—jaw hanging open, mouth gulping as the sought for words, panicked eyes wide and round and glossy.
I took a step closer to him, reveling in the sudden power.
He retreated automatically, falling back half a step. His eyes snapped up to mine. “Why?” he whimpered. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“For everyone you’ve hurt,” I said. He flinched like I had hit him, and it felt good. I went on. “For everyone you’ve abused. Everyone you took advantage of. And most of all...” I threw a look at Trina, holding her eyes. “For Cass’s little sister.”
Trina frowned, confused.
Hauser asked, “Who?”
I turned back to him and jerked a thumb at Trina. “Cass’s—”
His face split into a grin and he chuckled. “She’s not Cass’s sister.”
Despite myself, I turned back to look at her. “She’s not?”
She wasn’t. I could see it clearly. Cass was shorter and more athletic. She had bigger eyes and narrower shoulders and a deep ruthlessness. Plus, she was Hispanic. Trina looked like a librarian. But there was still something so familiar about her. Staring into her eyes, I asked again, “She’s not?”
Trina shook her head, mute. She wasn’t.
Hauser chuckled. “Kid, you have no idea what’s going on here.”
Suddenly the sirens started falling silent again, but they were doing it right outside this time. And one of them kept right on wailing. The cops were staying on scene. My plan was working. I only needed time.
So I met Hauser’s condescending expression with my best show of humility and gave him a shrug. “Educate me.”