away. He suddenly realised he had a small bag of coke in his pocket. He pulled it out and tucked it into his sock, smoothing down his jeans over the top.
‘Police! Open up!’ the voice called again.
‘OK, hang on,’ he said, double-checking everything. Then he moved to the door and twisting the lock, opened it.
Outside, two cops were standing there, a man and a woman, both late twenties, both stern-faced. He gave them his best smile, but they didn’t smile back.
‘Are you the homeowner, sir?’ the man asked.
Regan shook his head. ‘No, officer. I’m house-sitting for a friend.’
‘We just got a call of a domestic disturbance at this location.’
Regan frowned, genuinely surprised.
‘That’s impossible. I’m the only one here.’
‘Mind if we take a look around?’ the female cop said. He saw the expression on her face and noted the sharpness in her voice. He guessed any domestic disturbance call rubbed her the wrong way, like it would for any bitch cop.
‘Sure,’ Regan said, letting them inside.
He moved back, watching as they started examining the apartment.
The two of them walked in slowly, looking around the place.
‘Who’s your friend?’ the cop asked.
‘A guy from high school. We’re real tight.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Baltimore. Wedding.’
At the door, Regan saw two other officers had arrived. The pair already inside the apartment turned and nodded to their colleagues, who themselves separated and started examining the other rooms in the apartment. One of them walked across the floor and into the kitchen. Regan licked his lips as he watched the guy examining the outside of the fridge, and silently prayed he wouldn’t reach for the handle.
‘When’s he going to be back?’ the female cop asked, across the room. ‘Your friend.’
‘This afternoon I think. Can I get you guys some coffee? Or tea?’
They ignored him, and continued to look around, walking slowly, with the complete confidence and authority that their badge allowed.
Eventually, the female cop turned to her partner. ‘There’s no one here,’ she said, and he nodded back in agreement. She turned to Regan. ‘OK. It was probably a fake call. Happens time to time. Probably some kids or neighbours wanting to stir up trouble.’
The other two cops had heard this and were already moving to the door. The female cop walked up to Regan, looking him in eye.
‘Sorry to have bothered you, sir,’ she said.
He nodded. ‘Not at all. Have a good day, officers.’
The last two cops moved to the door and left, all of them headed down the stairs and out of the building. Regan pushed the door shut, waited still for a moment, then breathed a sigh of relief and moved back to the fridge. He pulled open the top compartment, and slid out the shotgun quietly. The metal barrel was already cold. He moved quietly back to his seat by the door and returned, resting the shotgun on the second chair, and grinned.
The English asshole had probably made the call, figuring the cops would find whoever was inside and clear them out. It hadn’t worked. Putting the shotgun to the ground, he grabbed a C.D case from the table to his right and walked over to the kitchen, grabbing a thin knife from the drawer. He walked back to the chair, sat back down and pulled the bag of coke from his sock. He’d hit a couple lines to freshen him up. As he poured some of the white powder out of the bag onto the CD case, he glanced back at the door, the shotgun resting on the chair.
Sooner or later, he was going to be here.
And he would be right here waiting for him.
Downstairs on the street, the male and female officers moved to their car, nodding to their two colleagues who had heard the call over the radio and had arrived on foot. One of them headed right, back to his beat on 30 Avenue, whilst the other officer headed to the left towards 31st Avenue. The male cop inside the squad car fired the engine and pulled off the kerb, moving away from the apartment and headed left down the street. He tapped the horn as they passed the officer, and he raised a hand in a wave as they headed off down the street and turned right, moving out of sight.
The officer arrived at the corner of 38 Street, and crossed over to the other side. He moved through the smoke of the food truck and headed down Steinway, walking fast. He checked behind him to make sure he hadn’t