“Tell me, Hawk, you perform some magic with Mitch or Slimand they find cause to search this house legally and find what we found, whathappens to this guy?”Smithie asked, calling up Hawk’s buds, Mitch Lawson andBrock “Slim” Lucas, two DPD cops, two good men and the first ones Hawk went toif he needed law.
“I don’t have the power of clairvoyance, Smithie,” Hawk toldhim.
“Me either.But I’ll tell you this, a sick fucking fuck likethis guy has to do something sick fuckingfucked upto be fuckinglocked away forever, where he needs to be,” Smithie shot back.“Andseein’ as that’s notgonnafuckin’ happen, not this time, he gets caught, he maybe does some time, andthat’s a big maybe, since, so far, he hasn’t really committed a crime.”
“Those letters are threats, he used the postal service tosend them, and that’s definitely a crime,” Hawk pointed out.
“That’s thin and we all know it,” Smithie spat.
They did, so Hawk nor Mo said anything.
Smithie kept going.
“But say he does some time.He gets out, fixates back on Macor some other girl, and manages to get his shit together before someone findsout.And then some girl, if she’s found before she’s made dead, has a lifetimeof having to deal with something that she didn’t get a say in, like I got a sayin having a lifetime of living with what we decide for this guy tonight.”Smithie shook his head.“I’ll take my demons.I won’t have some woman facinghers.”
“Smithie—” Hawk tried.
Smithie cut him off.“Or he gets off on the insanity plea,because there’s no arguing the guy is fucked right the fuck up, and he’s sentto a looney bin.Gets medicated.Gets therapy.Gets ‘cured.’And that same endscenario happens, just after he goes off his government-funded meds andremembers he’s awhackjob.”
“So your vote is he disappears,” Hawk deduced.
“My vote is the only vote that counts, motherfucker,seein’ as I’mpayin’ for thisshit,” Smithie retorted.
“And Mo and me will know and we’ll have to keep our mouthsshut and live with those demons for your choice too, Smithie,” Hawk returnedfire.
At this juncture, Smithie glanced at Mo before he lookedback at Hawk.“Can you share why your man is in on this discussion?”
“He has a say,” Hawk replied.
“I get that,seein’ as he’s here,”Smithie said.“I’maskin’ why.”
“Because I called him in,” Hawk answered.
Smithie looked back at Mo.
Mo just stared at him.
“Shit, you fell for her,” Smithie muttered.
Mo said nothing.
Smithie looked him up and down and his brows drew together.“And she fell for you?”
Mo remained quiet.
“Of course she did,” Smithie muttered.“You’re you.Before Ieven saw you,couldadrawn a picture a’ you, someoneasked me to conjure up Mac’s dream man.”
Well…
Hell.
Something occurred to Smithie, his eyes went to the ceilingbefore coming back to Mo and his hands went to his hips.
“Do not get any thoughts in your head, motherfucker.She’sgot talent.She’s a headliner.She was born for the stage.”He took a hand fromhis hip, pointed it at Mo, and declared, “Youare nottellin’ her she can’t dance.”
Mo felt his lips thin.
“There!”Smithie jerked his finger at Mo, not missing Mo’sslight movement.“You’re one of those guys!Christ!”He threw up both hands.“Ithought I was done with those guys.Jack didn’t mind his woman stripping.”
