then the other.
Gabriel’s lowering the gun.
But the moment I open my mouth to thank him, it’s up again.
“Stay where you are,” he says.
He wasn’t going to kill me? Fuck me? Why? I mean, I’m grateful obviously, but confused. But there’s no way in hell I’m going to antagonize him into shooting me. What good would that do anyone?
“Sure, yeah. I’ll stay right here.”
My hands are still up, and it’s taking quite a lot of my concentration to ignore the smell of copper in the air. I should be fine, long as I don’t dwell. Long as I don’t look at my hands.
Gabriel trains the gun on me as he steps back.
Follow him.
Aw, fuck, Rube. I wanna, but he’s going to kill me if I try.
Follow him.
“Hey, uh…”
Gabriel pauses. The hand around the gun tightens.
“I just want to know one thing.”
He frowns at me. “Quiet.”
I curl the fingers of one hand until just my index is up. “Just one. Please? Humor me? It’s the least you can do.”
Gabriel shakes his head like he’s wondering which of the two of us have lost our minds.
Probably both.
“What?” he snaps, taking another step back.
“Why’d you do it?”
He stops. “Do what?”
“The basement. The kids. Us.” I point at myself with my finger. “I mean…that wasn’t cool, man. Seriously. Are you a psychopath? Because you’re lacking all sorts of empathy.”
Gabriel’s lips lift into a snarl, and it looks like he’s reconsidering letting me live. But fuck it. I mean…
“That’s why you’re following me?” Gabriel moves the gun a little closer as if he’s pointing with it. “Talk to Trinity. I told her everything.”
“Like how you chose us? Did you tell her that? Because I’ve always wondered about that. I mean, compared to Cass and Rube, even Zach, I’m not much of a looker.”
Gabriel shakes his head as if he’s got something in his ear. “I don’t know why she chose you.”
“She? She who?” Was it Zachary’s mom? I never met the woman, but—
“Monica chose. She…she drew less attention than Keith. No one thought twice about her sitting in the park, reading a book.”
Wait…Monica? As in Trinity’s mom? But there’s a look in Gabriel’s eyes as if he’s waiting to see my reaction. Playing me.
“Yeah, okay. Blame it on a dead girl.” I nod a few times. “Clever. No one can prove you wrong.”
Another snarl. “You want proof?” He steps closer and jams the gun against my chest.
If I’d been paying closer attention at that shooting range, I might have remembered how to take a gun off someone. I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s something they cover.
But I didn’t.
So I can’t.
I don’t dare try. Because his finger is curled around the trigger, and I have a feeling the smallest jolt will send a bullet straight into my heart. Ain’t no coming back from that, not unless you’re the Son of God. And I’m pretty sure he’s come and gone.
“Yeah, proof would be nice,” I tell him, barely moving my lips in case he sees it as a threat. “But only if it’s no trouble. Don’t want you going out of your way to prove your innocence or anything.”
He narrows his eyes at me. His lips move. “Apollo.”
“You got me.” It’s hard to be cheery when there’s a gun digging a hole in your pec, but I fucking try.
“You worked in the laundry at Saint Amos.” His voice is soft now, his eyes unfocused.
“It was the kitchen, actually. But you knew that already.”
“Why would I?”
And it’s fucking weird, in that second, I believe him. But I’m probably biased because my cause of death is so close I can lick it.
“Everything you’re looking for is on Keith’s hard drive.”
If I had ears like a dog, they’d be pricking up right now. “Yeah? Where’s that? Gomorrah? Sodom?” I can’t help it. I kid around when I’m nervous.
The way Gabriel’s jaw ticks, he’s not amused.
“In the study. In the safe. Same combination.”
“What, the study door and the safe?”
He makes an angry sound and steps back, shaking his head. “I don’t care how he made it look. I didn’t do it. None of it.” Another step. He’s brighter now, lit up by the faint gray light of the overcast sky.
But before he turns to leave, I say, “And what about that file on your hard drive? The archive you hid in the system files? Same combination?” I know it isn’t. My password cracking program already went through the numeral-only phase.
“Archive?” He turns back to me. “It’s one file.”
My heart legit skips a