Page 39 of The Bookshop of Forbidden Books

“What you did for me.”

“The welding?”

“Yes, the welding.” She hesitated, looking for the right words. “I’ll come by the bookshop tonight, when I’m done here. We can take that walk by the river, like you said. If the offer still stands.”

“If you’d really like to…?”

“I really would.”

“Then I’ll see you tonight.” Mitch grinned.

* * *

He hadn’t only taken the day off for Anna. He’d gone to see her first thing that morning, in case the rest of the day didn’t unfold in the way he hoped. If she’d accepted his help, the future might have been different. Now, after a quick stop at the bookshop, he limped through the pouring rain to the courthouse. On Fridays, Salinas usually left around noon; he never worked on Friday afternoons, something Mitch had learned during his reconnaissance missions. The dark blue sedan was parked on the second underground level of the parking garage, roughly twenty metres from the elevator.

Even as he was making his way down the street, a quiet voice in the back of his mind told him he was making a huge mistake. That he’d met someone who mattered. That Anna was unlike anyone he’d ever known. That when he looked at her, he saw a life he hadn’t guessed he was missing. And that if he was going to risk everything, it should be for her, not to satisfy a desire for revenge. But the voice wasn’t loud enough to bring him to his senses, or to calm the rage burning inside him.

In order to avoid the camera mounted above the garage entrance, Mitch went through the courthouse, crossing the lobby and taking the stairs down to the second underground floor.

The parking garage seemed darker than usual. He checked his watch: fifteen minutes to go. Two concrete columns offered him just enough cover to catch Salinas off guard. He chose the one closest to the dark blue sedan. Once he leapt out, the prosecutor would have no chance of escaping.

From the inside pocket of his jacket, he drew out the telescopic baton he’d retrieved from the shop. When retracted, it was barely fifteen centimetres long, but one sharp flick of the wrist was all it took to deploy it to its full length. A weapon like this could fracture a femur or tibia, snap a collarbone or an arm, shatter a jaw – and a well-placed blow to the kidneys or the base of the neck could be lethal. He tightened his grip on the weapon, flattened himself against the column, and waited for his prey.

Ten minutes later, the prosecutor appeared in his navy suit, briefcase in hand, striding briskly toward the sedan. Mitch deployed the club. The sharp metallic click echoed across the garage. Salinas stopped in his tracks.

“Is someone there?”

Mitch held his breath. Sweat trickled down his forehead. His shirt clung to his back. Salinas started walking again. Passed the column. Mitch watched him approach his car, heart pounding.

Just as he was about to strike, a terrible sound split through his skull – so loud that he thought his eardrums might burst. It was the same sound he’d heard in prison when the Sergeant was beating him, the sickening sound of his leg snapping, which had been replaying in his head ever since, torturing him.

The prosecutor opened his car door. Mitch didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t even breathe.

As the sedan’s engine rumbled to life, Mitch retracted the baton and slid it back in his pocket. He waited for the sedan to disappear up the ramp before turning and walking away.

This wasn’t finished. One day, Salinas would see death coming for him. One day, he would know real fear.

Chapter 17

The Son of a Bitch

At seven o’clock that night, Anna knocked on the metal shutter. She’d traded her black raincoat for a pale trench, swept her auburn hair into a bun pinned with a pencil, and had a faded tote slung over one shoulder.

“Did you forget about our appointment?” she asked, when Mitch raised the shutter.

“No – why would you think that?” he asked, letting her in.

“Well, you’re looking a little gloomy.” Anna twirled in a circle. “Better, no?”

Mitch didn’t answer.

“Beige hides the dust better, don’t you think?” she prompted.

All he really saw was her glowing skin, that radiant smile. Those wide, bright eyes awoke in him a desire to live, to be free. That was when it hit him; how completely she’d already taken hold of him. If Salinas pumped poison through his veins, Anna was the antidote.

As planned, they went for a stroll along the riverbank. The air was soft, the sky calm and brushed in deep purple. Mitch might’ve felt at peace if only he could think of a single thing to say. But their walk unfolded in a kind of reverent silence.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted at last. “You must think I’m so boring. I’m just… I’m not great with—”