This is the overreaction I feared. Most cops in this situation would have asked me to turn around, then simply taken my gun. I spread both empty hands wide and look into Nadine’s cell phone. “I’m about to comply with—”
“NOW! FACE DOWN! BOTH HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD!”
As I kneel in preparation to lie down, Jet says, “Officer, my client voluntarily informed you that he is armed, and he poses no threat to—”
Planting his tactical boot between my shoulder blades, Farner kicks me flat. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs. “Cuff him, Floyd.”
The younger cop slaps his handcuffs around my wrists, then yanks my pistol from my belt.
“Whoa! This is fancy. Is this a Luger?”
“Hey!” Jet yells. “What the hell is wrong with you guys?”
“I warned you, Princess,” Farner says, throwing up a beefy arm and shoving her three feet backward.
“That’s assault!” Nadine shouts. “I’m an attorney, and that was assault.”
“Fuck this,” Farner mutters. “Arrest ’em all.”
Gasping for air, I look up to see Jet fly at the big cop like a wildcat. He looks stunned to be attacked by a woman, but his partner’s already got his Taser out.
“Jet, stop!” Nadine shouts. “Let go of him!”
Jet breaks contact with the cop, but when she sees the younger cop aiming his weapon at her, she says, “You’re going to tase me? Go ahead. Look right in the camera while you do it.”
She’s lost it. After fearing arrest for hours, seeing me arrested in her place has pushed her over the edge.
“Cuff these bitches, too,” Farner says, pointing at Jet. “Her first.”
The young cop takes the cuffs from Farner’s belt and moves behind Jet.
“Hey!” yells a male voice from the direction of the hospital. “Hey, that’s my wife!”
Looking left, I see Paul charging across the asphalt from the hospital doors, Kevin trailing behind him. Paul may be forty-seven and drunk, but he’s an intimidating sight with his head and shoulders lowered the way they used to be when he hammered running backs as a strong safety. I hope the cops don’t shoot him out of reflex.
“Stay back, Paul!” the older cop yells. “You don’t want none of this.”
“You boys need to stand down,” Paul drawls, stopping five yards short of us. “What the hell’s going on out here, Jerry? Why’s that kid trying to handcuff my wife?”
“She was interfering with our arrest,” says the young cop.
Paul grins good-naturedly, but I see anger in his eyes. “She’s a lawyer, son. That’s what lawyers do.”
“She assaulted Office Farner.”
“Over what?”
Farner steps closer to Paul. “Me arresting the asshole your daddy says hit him in the head with a hammer.”
“Ahh,” Paul says in a knowing tone. “Yeah, she gets a little defensive about this particular asshole. Takes things a little personally where he’s concerned.”
I try to catch Paul’s eye, but he’s taking pains to avoid my gaze.
“You need to get back inside,” Farner tells him. “You’ve obviously had a few.”
Paul grins. “More than a few. But that’s my normal state, brother. I’m a high-functioning drunk, like Marshall’s daddy. But now it looks like mine may beat his to the cemetery.”
“Can I get up now?” I cough.
“Slowly,” says the young cop. “Damn slowly.”
As I struggle to my knees, Farner says, “Mr. McEwan, do you have a concealed-carry permit?”
“Mississippi’s an open-carry state,” Jet declares.
“Stay out of this, Jet,” Paul snaps.
I get carefully to my feet.
“Answer the question,” Farner orders.
“No, I don’t have that permit.”
“Well, I don’t see a belt holster. Was the gun in plain view when you walked out of the hospital?”
“It was,” Jet says quickly. “I asked him to get it out. I didn’t feel safe.”
“Goddamn it,” Paul mutters. “Would you shut up?”
Jet’s head snaps up as though he slapped her.
Farner laughs. “Something tells me you’re being less than honest, lady. Well, security tapes will tell us. Mr. McEwan, I’m adding carrying a concealed weapon to your charges.” He turns to his partner. “Get him in the car, Floyd. I’ll call backup for these other two.”
“Bullshit you will,” Paul says in a low voice.
Knowing Paul’s explosive temper, I try to distract him. “Why am I supposed to have assaulted Max, Paul? What was my motive?”
His head turns slowly from Farner to me, and even the cops seem to be waiting to hear his answer. “You accused him of killing Buck Ferris.”
This is the last answer I expected, but it makes sense.
“When Pop denied it,” Paul goes on, “you accused him of killing my mother. Supposedly because she wouldn’t give him an alibi for the night Buck died.”
This is no place to argue Max’s lies. For the moment I have to be satisfied that Max turned Paul’s focus away from Jet.
“That sounds like you, doesn’t it, Goose?” Paul says, stepping closer to me. “You gonna deny it?”
I can smell the alcohol from two feet away. “Nobody here is interested in my denial.”
“Imagine that. You know, I’ve kept my distance tonight because Duncan’s close to dying. That’s what they said in the ER. But I want to hear you deny what you did to Pop.”
Something in Paul’s eyes doesn’t look right. It isn’t just the alcohol. He’s not all there. I fight the urge to glance at Jet. Something tells me she’s about to confess to being Max’s assailant.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Farner says, obviously more than a little worried about Paul.
“Backup’s on the way,” says the younger cop.
It’s only because I know Paul so well that I sense his punch coming in time to duck. He still manages to clip my skull above the ear, and white light explodes through my brain. When my vision returns, I find myself lying on my back, staring up into the streetlight, my cuffed hands crushed beneath my pelvis.
“Goddamn it!” Farner bellows. “That’s it! Get back, Paul, or I’ll arrest your ass, too! What the hell’s wrong with this family?”
As Paul stands over me, panting from exertion, the sound of helicopter blades cutting the air rolls over us, growing louder by the second. That distinctive whup-whup-whup always carries an overtone of Vietnam, but especially tonight, given the passenger that this medevac chopper has been summoned to carry.
“That’s Max’s ride to UMC,” Paul says. “Jet, come on with me.”
“Uh-uh,” Farner says. “Not this time. The lady stays.”
Paul looks at the cop, then runs his tongue around behind his bottom lip. He points at me. “There’s your outlaw, Jerry. Attempted murder. My wife’s just a little high-strung tonight. You know how that is.”
“We’re taking her in,” Farner says doggedly, glancing over at Nadine, who’s still filming.