While Trevor went to look for his wallet in the bedroom, Officer Hart called, “Are there any other rooms in this house? A basement, maybe?”
“Not that I’m aware of. As Officer Johnson said, it’s a small place.”
He found his wallet in the jeans he'd worn yesterday and pulled it out. Once he returned to the living room, he froze. Snoopy Officer Johnson was in the middle of taking out Dima’s gun from the cabinet next to the couch. Trevor had recklessly kept both Dima’s and Daniel’s guns in there. Thank God he’d given one of them to Andy, because explaining bringing two guns to a vacation was too much even for his smooth tongue.
“Is this yours?” Officer Johnson asked.
“It is. Staying by myself out here can be dangerous.”
“This is a serious pistol.”
“It’s a dangerous world. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that.”
Officer Johnson put the gun back in the cabinet, and Officer Hart took a step toward Trevor. “ID, please.”
He opened his wallet and plucked out the ID. The officer took it and narrowed her eyes as she scanned the card. When she looked up at his face, Trevor kept hisexpression natural, but underneath his skin, anxiety brewed.
“Mr. Young?”
Trevor nodded. “That’s me.”
“Jacob Young?”
“Still me.”
She glanced once more at his fake ID, as if another look might change the name on the card. He had been carrying that fake thing for years, ever since he needed more prescriptions for drugs. If the officers were to check on the ID, they wouldn’t find anything suspicious; he’d gotten it from a professional. Thank God he had brought it with him.
Officer Johnson came closer to look, his eyes moving from the ID to Trevor. “Interesting.”
Trevor wondered if those two were fucking. If he were to sniff Officer Johnson’s fingers, would he smell Officer Hart?
“Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee maybe? I feel bad that someone wasted your time.”
The officers exchanged looks, both not pleased. With some reservation, Officer Hart handed Trevor back his fake ID.
“That’s a no on the drinks,” Officer Johnson said and turned to his partner. “The place is clean—well, notclean, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. You sure there’s no basement here, sir? A shed, maybe?”
Trevor frowned. “There was no mention of that onthe website. Should I help you look?”
“No need.” Officer Hart glanced at her watch. “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to set you up, Mr. Young?”
“Hmm, nope, can’t think of anyone. You’re sure I can’t get you some coffee?” He didn’t even have coffee, but pressing the matter would make them leave faster. Even police officers didn’t like refusing hospitality too many times.
“We’ll be leaving,” Officer Johnson said. “Sorry to have wasted your time.”
Trevor watched them walk toward the entrance door, holding back a smile.
Before she could reach the exit, Officer Hart glanced at the closet that hid the basement door.
Trevor clenched his fists. If she were to check more thoroughly than her partner, he wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of this. He would need to reach for the gun in the cabinet and shoot them, but the officers were closer to their guns than he was to his.
As it happened, God was smiling down on him, proving that the Almighty was a shitty judge of character.
Officer Hart kept walking toward the exit without double-checking the closet. “Good luck with your book,” she said and glanced back. “What is it about, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Trevor crossed his arms. “It’s a thriller. A storyabout a rather unique family. Very intense. Gets a bit gruesome at times.”
Officer Hart made a face, as though she wouldn’t be picking it up in a bookstore. “Well, I hope there’s a happy ending, at least.”
