On The Line

Chapter 34: Parental Guidance





“In the event of a water landing, your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device. But let's face it, if this thing goes down in the water, more than likely, the impact will kill you.”

and (to a passenger who is afraid of flying):

“Look, flying isn't really all that scary when you think about it. I mean, thereare a lot more likely ways to die than on a plane: car crash, house fire, electrocution, drowning, auto-erotic asphyxiation. I mean, fact is, death haunts us every day, no matter where we are.”

Parker (playing a flight attendant) in Leverage, Season 1

Lucia had dressed with utmost care this morning; she had chosen her favorite maternity clothes, a light blue dress that covered her knees, and comfortable yet stylish shoes she had bought at the spur of the moment when she had found out about the pregnancy. They were the exact same color as the dress, and with the purse her mother had given her a few years ago, she didn’t look too shabby.



She hadn’t told her husband about the meeting, because knowing Pietro, he would’ve tried to talk her out of it, arguing that this wasn’t her war to fight and that she should be preparing for the arrival of their third child instead. Lucia almost rolled her eyes at the thought, smiling a little when she thought about the way her husband doted on her and how much he loved her.



Her smile slipped after a few seconds, though. She had always thought her parents had the perfect marriage, too, and now everything was falling apart. She couldn’t believe her father had decided to move out, it had felt like being punched in the face and Lucia didn’t even want to start thinking how her mother must be feeling. It was all so depressing.



She sighed slightly as she sat down gingerly on the park bench then winced when she felt the baby kick that very moment. It was almost ready to come out, Lucia knew, and the smile was back on her face at the prospect.



“You look very happy.”



She turned her head and saw Edward St. John standing close by, wearing a suit that had probably cost a small fortune, maybe even more than Pietro earned in a month. His face was somber, his eyes clear as they rested on her. She wondered what he saw and thought at that very moment then dismissed it. She wasn’t here because she felt fat and ugly being stared at by a very good-looking gay man. She was here because her parents’ lives were falling apart. And because she loved her little brother.



“Hello, Mr. St. John,” she said, choosing his surname to make it very clear that she wasn’t giving him an inch. “Thank you for coming.”



“Your message sounded urgent,” he replied and sat down next to her, crossing his long legs gracefully then placing his hands on top of them. He nodded at her swollen belly. “When are you due?”



“In two weeks.” That was not why she had come here. She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. “What do you want from my brother?” And that hadn’t come out quite the way she had intended it to.



“Excuse me?” Edward looked honestly surprised by her question. “You realize that your brother is over thirty years old and quite capable of making his own decisions, right?”



“I’m his older sister,” Lucia said and felt instantly stupid. She cleared her throat. “What I meant was ---“ She stopped, wondering what she really wanted to say. It was all so confusing, and this man, this Edward St. John, whom she had only seen once before, was talking to her with this accent she only knew from watching Jane Austen movies on TV.



“You’re protective of him.” Edward smiled. It made him look younger. “And I can appreciate that.”



So he could appreciate that? What an arrogant ass.



“I don’t care,” she snapped. “He’s my brother. He wasn’t <I>gay</I> before he met you.” It was the one thing she was sure about. She had watched her brother, had met his girlfriends. And they had been girls. All of them.



Edward smiled again, but this time it didn’t reach his eyes. “Lucia – I can call you Lucia?”



She took a moment then slowly inclined her head. If he was talking like Mr. Darcy, then she could act like Elizabeth, right?



“Okay,” he went on. “We are born the way we are. Sexual orientation and all. It may be hard to believe, but I did not turn your brother gay.”



“But---“ She wanted to protest, wanted to explain. Yet, all she could do was stare at him for a moment. Then she shook herself. “He never had a boyfriend before you.” She hated how hopeless she sounded. “And besides, he should’ve thought about Mama. Look what he did to her.”



The smile disappeared from Edward’s face in a flash, and was replaced by an icy coldness that made her shiver. “He did nothing to your mother. She decided to take her life, and she did it to put pressure on Michael. Did you ever think about that?”



“You mean – she was trying to blackmail him?” She could barely get the word out, it tasted so vile on her tongue. “No.” She shook her head. It couldn’t be. She knew her mother. “Mama would never do something like that.”



“Did you read the letter she wrote?” Edward asked.



“Did you?” she shot right back.



“No,” he said slowly, and Lucia breathed in relief. At least one thing Michael hadn’t shared with this man. “But I saw Michael’s face after his father told him about it.”



So Papa had gone to see Michael. Of course. That’s what he would do. “Mama is devastated. Do you understand why?”



He didn’t answer right away, and she had a feeling he was trying to choose his words carefully. “I do understand that she needs to come to terms with this new situation. Mostly because it contradicts beliefs she’s grown up with. However, I will never understand how a mother could do this to her child, someone she claims to love.”



The nerve of the man! “Claims to love?” Lucia hated that her voice went up an octave, but it was such a bunch of nonsense coming out of this man’s mouth, she could barely restrain herself from rolling her eyes.



“Yes.” He was still so calm, seemed so rational. A part of her wanted to pinch him to check if he was even real. Another part was simply stunned that he was able to control himself like that. It was creepy, and she wondered if it was a gay thing, or if he was simply too British for her comfort.



“My mother doesn’t ‘claim’ to love anyone. We all grew up in a wonderful home, with a doting mother and a father who never raised a hand to any of us.” Lucia had so many wonderful memories of her childhood. And she remembered what her mother had told her about Edward St. John. “Just because your family is a train wreck, don’t assume everyone else’s is as fucked up.” It was a low blow, and she knew it, but she was so fed up with his attitude, behaving as if he was far above them all.



“I would never think that,” Edward said, still calm. But Lucia could see a muscle in his jaw ticking, and was glad that she’d finally found a crack in his armor that had seemed impenetrable so far. So the man did have a soul – go figure.



“My mother is the most loving woman I know,” Lucia said urgently, wanting him to understand what he was destroying by pursuing whatever he had with Michael. “She and my father were the perfect couple. In fact, they were my role models.” She paused then added, “And Michael’s.”



Something flickered in his blue eyes. “I admit, I didn’t have any role models worth mentioning. And while I wish the relationship between my parents and me would have been different, it also taught me that a beautiful façade sometimes hides less beautiful secrets.”



Lucia felt hot anger well up inside of her. “My parents never hid anything behind a ‘façade’. There was no need.” She struggled to stand. “I can’t believe I thought we could talk.”



He stood up as well. “You never wanted to talk to me, Lucia. You wanted to warn me away from your brother. But see,” he leaned a little closer and she could smell his very expensive aftershave, “I’m not a scared boy who caves just because a pregnant woman makes big eyes at him.”



She stared at him. “I can’t believe my brother fell for you! You’re – impossible.”



He grinned, and damn him for being such a good-looking bastard. “Thanks.”



And just like that, her anger was back. “You’re destroying this family,” she cried. “Don’t you see that?”



“I’m not destroying anything. If it makes life easier for you, feel free to put the blame on me, but it won’t change the facts.”



The man was not just impossible, he was a true pain in the butt. “Do you have to be so flippant about this? Don’t you see it’s a serious matter? We’re talking about a couple who has been married for forty years.”



Now it was his turn to stare at her, and for a moment – a split second – Lucia felt good about it. But as soon as he opened his mouth it was gone.



“Your father is a very smart man, Lucia. He’s able to make his own decisions, don’t you think?”



“I—“ she began, but then stopped and sighed. Damn him for making sense.



“Maybe,” Edward said, “you should try making up your own mind and not let yourself be used by someone who clearly struggles with issues that are a lot more complicated than you can even imagine.”



Despite herself, Lucia’s curiosity was piqued. “What do you mean?”



“I mean that your mother was raised with a lot of prejudice by someone she clearly adored.” His eyes were warm and full of understanding. “All this is mixed with guilt when it comes to your uncle and now your brother. Michael being gay brings back a lot of bad memories for her. To be honest, it doesn’t surprise me that she isn’t coping well, even though trying to take her life isn’t something I expected to happen.” He sighed. “I have to admit it’s a very clever strategy, but it’s hurting everyone around her.” He inclined his head, “Including you.”



“Are you insane?” Lucia cried. Because, clearly, he was. A clever strategy? Her mother had barely escaped death, had almost committed a mortal sin and he was talking about strategies?



“It was suggested, once,” he replied dryly. “But, no. Look. I fell for your brother, and he fell for me. I didn’t make him gay. All I did was wake up his true nature he repressed for years. We could discuss the reasons behind that, but it’s really futile. Fact is, Michael was always gay. And he also loves you. All of you.”



“So?” Maybe she was a little dense, but she didn’t get it.



“Jesus,” Edward cursed, and Lucia suppressed the urge to cross herself. “You’re hurting him. By not accepting who he is you’re hurting him. Don’t you get that? He loves you! He still believes in you, in family. Your support is important for him. Just because Michael’s gay, he didn’t suddenly say good-bye to all the values he was raised with.”



Lucia hated it, but damn if St. John didn’t make some sense. “I still love him,” she said firmly. “That will never change.”



He smiled at her and this time it did reach his eyes. “Good.” He turned, but stopped and looked at her again. “It was nice meeting you. And if you should happen to talk to your mother, maybe you could remind her of that, too?” He let the question hang in the air, gave her another smile and then walked away.



Lucia watched him go, watched his sure strides, the straight line of his back, the way he held himself, and suddenly understood why her brother felt so drawn to him. She bit her lower lip. She didn’t like it, but she had to admit to herself that her mother was wrong. Edward St. John was a cocky bastard, he was self-assured and arrogant, but he wasn’t a bad man. And he most certainly wasn’t the devil incarnate.



She wasn’t sure yet how knowing that would help her or her family, but the sick feeling in her stomach was gone at least – and that was something, wasn’t it?



+++++



“Stop fidgeting!”



Michael froze on his chair for a moment before he turned toward Karen and glared. “What crawled up your ass?” he asked.



Karen threw her hands in the air. “Nothing. Everything. Daniel is driving me crazy.”



He gave her a knowing look. “Don’t tell me. The baby?”



She stared down at him with an almost scary intensity before she rolled her eyes and released a long breath. “Yeah. I love him, okay. But this … this protective macho-posturing is driving me crazy.”



“What did he do this time?”



Finally. Michael turned at the sound of Edward’s voice and studied his face. He looked tired, but otherwise okay. Good. Michael felt himself relax a little. He still didn’t know where Edward had been but from the way Edward had taken such care with his appearance it couldn’t have been good. Not that he was ever a shabby dresser, but this morning it had been overkill. It had taken Edward at least half an hour until he had been ready to leave their hotel room.



“Hey, Edward.” Christine came over to them, holding a file in her hand. “Good, you’re here.”



Edward raised an eyebrow. “O-kay. What did I miss?”



“Nothing yet,” Christine said, reminding Michael of a very eager squirrel right before winter. “But now that you’re here, we can talk about this!” She held the file up with a triumphant grin.



“Is this supposed to be a quiz or are you going to tell us?” Michael asked, not in the mood for enthusiastic rookies with freckles and flying curls.



Christine made a face at him. “Fine. Be a spoilsport. You remember Sven Sandstrom?”



“The fourth victim?” Edward’s brows were knitted, and he was rubbing his forehead. No doubt a headache. Shit.



Christine beamed. “Exactly.” With a flourish she placed the file on Michael’s desk. “Guess what?”



“I’m too tired for guessing,” Karen said and pulled a chair to sit on.



“Edward,” Christine looked over at him. “You remember, right. He was the one who was abused by his father.”



“Yes,” Edward replied tightly, rubbing his forehead harder.



“His father, Benjamin?” Christine pointed at the file. “You won’t believe who he went to school with.”



“To school?” Michael frowned. What the fuck was going on? He reached for the file but Karen was faster. She opened it and – gasped, in the same moment Christine said, “He and Phillips. They’ve known each other since childhood.”



+++++



“You know what?”



Edward sighed inwardly and kept his eyes closed. “What?”



“Phillips is one creepy motherfucker. I mean – Sandstrom? And Phillips never said a word.”



Edward finally opened his eyes and looked at Michael’s profile, the stubble he hadn’t shaved off this morning that shadowed his face, the full lips, the cheekbones that were just right, the long lashes, and all that framed by unruly dark curls. Michael wasn’t pretty, but damn, the guy was handsome.



He was also angry.



“Maybe Phillips doesn’t remember.” At Michael’s snort Edward straightened in the passenger seat. They were on their way to Sandstrom’s house, and Edward so wasn’t looking forward to it.



“Doesn’t remember, my ass. Phillips has more secrets than the CIA.”



That wasn’t quite true, but Edward had to admit Michael had a point there. Still. “Do you remember all the people you went to school with?” he asked.



“No,” Michael admitted. “But people I went to school with for ten years? I remember those. Especially when their name comes up in a murder investigation. Do you really believe Phillips doesn’t remember the guy?”



Edward rubbed his temples. Fucking headache, it just wouldn’t let up. “No,” he said grudgingly. Damn Michael for being right.



Michael gave him a quick glance. “Okay. Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Edward replied. He took a deep breath. “I met with your sister this morning.”



“What?” Michael shot him another glance. “What would you and Paula have to talk about?”



“Not Paula. Lucia.”



“What?”



Edward heard the irritation in Michael’s voice, but decided to ignore it – for now. “She sent me a message last night, asked to meet. So we did.”



“I see.” Michael wasn’t angry anymore. He was furious. Edward could see it easily in the tightly clenched jaw and the knuckles that were white on the steering wheel. “And why didn’t you tell me about it?” His voice was measured, showing that he was trying to keep himself under control. Given his volatile temper, it had to be quite the task.



Under different circumstances Edward would have appreciated it; right now, with his head pounding like a motherfucking sledgehammer, all he could feel was annoyance. “Because I decided not to? As far as I know I’m still a free human being.”



Michael’s jaw clenched even tighter. “Right. Fine,” he pressed out between his teeth.



“I’m telling you about it now.” Okay, that was lame, but dammit, Michael was really starting to piss him off.



“Well, what happened?” Michael asked, keeping his eyes firmly on the road.



“We talked. She was very polite. Of course, she thinks I defiled her little brother and made him stray from the straight and narrow path of heterosexual bliss, but that was more or less what I expected from her.” He paused then added, “Oh, and yeah, I’m solely responsible for your mother’s attempted suicide.”



“I see.”



“And I’m telling you this in confidence and I’m expecting you to treat it that way,” Edward said, knowing Michael well enough to make that very clear.



“Meaning what exactly?” Michael managed to get out between teeth that were probably ground to stubs by now.



“I don’t need you to play hero and ride to my rescue.” Because that was Michael’s MO. And yes, sometimes – most of the time – it was hot, but right now it wouldn’t help anyone if Michael attacked his sister. Edward didn’t like Lucia. He probably never would. But he had seen the look in her eyes. She was starting to think, and no way would he allow Michael to destroy that by behaving like a rampaging bull.



“Fine.”



“Michael-“



“I said,” Michael snapped. “It’s fine.”



Right. Fine. But Edward would let it go – for now.



“I think it got through to her, though,” he said quietly. “We won’t ever be friends but maybe she’ll accept the fact that you’re gay – one day.”



“I don’t need you to fight my fights either.”



Maybe he deserved that. Edward pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know. And I’m not trying to. But she wanted to talk to me, and I agreed. To be honest, I think she wanted to check me out as much as she wanted to blame me.”



“Wanted to check you out?” Michael shot him another glance. Then he rolled his eyes. “Jesus God. Are you telling me my sister wanted to make sure you are good enough for her little brother?”



“Her first question was about my intentions.” Not quite, but close enough.



“Un-fucking-believable,” Michael exclaimed, hitting the steering wheel with his right fist. “Is she insane?”



“She loves you,” Edward said simply. “It might be misguided at times but it’s true. You’re very lucky, Michael.”



“Right.”



“You are,” Edward insisted. Michael had no idea how lucky. Edward would have given a lot for just a glimpse of that love while he was growing up. Unfortunately, in his home nobody even knew what love was.



“We’re here,” Michael announced and they stepped out of the car.



Edward felt his insides clench the moment his eyes fell on the Sandstrom house. He remembered how he had felt inside Sven’s room, the panic, the pain, the despair radiating from every piece of clothing, but had been most prominent around the bed.



He took a deep breath. “Sandstrom sexually abused his son,” he said.



Michael shot him an irritated glance. “Yes, you already told us that. Unfortunately there’s nothing we can do about that. Just because I’ve come to believe your abilities are real doesn’t mean others will.”



Edward bit back a smile at the admission. It wasn’t really a surprise, but it was still nice to hear. Shit. And this was so not the time. He took another deep breath. “That’s not what I meant. But I’m afraid my professionalism might suffer from the knowledge.” And God, could he sound more lame?



He heard a chuckle beside him and his head whipped around, ready to attack when he saw the expression on Michael’s face. Oh, fuck.



“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” Michael said. “To be honest, I really want to hurt the guy. Badly.”



Edward sighed. “Maybe we should’ve let Karen and Christine do this?” And wasn’t it funny how those two names were always used together even though Karen was actually Michael’s partner?



“No.” Michael shook his head. “I want to do this.” He gave Edward a wry look. “I know I can’t hurt him, but damn it if I won’t enjoy seeing the bastard squirm.”



+++



Benjamin Sandstrom was clearly surprised to see them standing at his front door and Michael didn’t even try to suppress the glee he felt at the way the man’s eyes widened in obvious shock. Oh yeah, he hoped the guy would sweat like a pig once they were done with him.



“Mr. Sandstrom,” Michael said politely. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but we need to talk to you.”



Sandstrom gave them a look as if he had just tasted something disgusting. “Again?” He grunted, nodded and turned back into the house leaving it to Michael and Edward to follow him. “We have guests,” he hollered as he walked to the living room.



A moment later Mrs. Sandstrom appeared, looking more haggard than Michael remembered her. The swollen left side of her face was new, though. Michael heard Edward draw in a sharp breath beside him, and could relate. His own hands were clenched into fists.



“Oh,” Mrs. Sandstrom said breathlessly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect anyone.” One fluttering hand went to her hair, stroking it back even though it was already in a tight bun. “Can I get you something?”



“Stop that,” Sandstrom’s voice boomed from the living room. “Nobody wants anything. Don’t make a fool of yourself, woman.”



Jesus. Michael came across a lot of assholes in his line of work, but there were few he wanted to hurt quite so badly.



“That’s perfectly fine, Mrs. Sandstrom,” Edward said. “Don’t worry about us.”



“Why are you still standing out there, keeping the woman from her work? I thought you wanted to talk to me.”



Wanted was way too strong a word, but unfortunately they had to. Exchanging a look with Edward, Michael went into the living room.



Sandstrom was sitting in an old stuffed chair, a bottle of beer in his hand, two empty ones standing on the table in front of him. Michael suddenly could appreciate his own home, despite all the fucked up things that were happening there lately. Maybe Edward had been right after all.



“Well, sit down.” Sandstrom pointed at the sofa with the bottle in his hand. “What’s this all about?” He nodded in Edward’s direction. “And what’s he doing here? Isn’t he some sort of quack?”



For a moment Michael considered reacting to the insult, but then decided to let it go. There were other ways to make the asshole squirm. “During our research regarding the murder of your son-“



“I have no son,” Sandstrom snarled and took a long gulp from his bottle.



“- we came across your school information,” Michael finished.



Sandstrom almost choked on his bottle. “My what?”



Michael let one eyebrow wander up. “Yes, I agree, it’s hard to believe. Anyway, from what we know you went to school with one Robert Phillips.”



“Who?” A heavy frown was on Sandstrom’s face. “Never heard of him.”



“He’s lying,” Edward whispered under his breath.



Michael agreed but he would have liked to know how Edward knew. Although, with Edward, he should have learned by now that nothing was impossible.



“You went to school with him for almost ten years. Don’t try to bullshit me, Sandstrom.” If the nice way didn’t work, there was always the not so nice one. Michael had learned that early on, and from none other than Patrick O’Neill, go figure. It was as if everything was coming full circle, even if it was moving along a slightly crooked line.



Sandstrom took another slug of his beer before he put the bottle down on the table loudly. “So what?” he asked, sneering at Michael. “Scrawny guy. Fruity.”



Michael frowned. “Fruity?”



“He means gay,” Edward said.



“He was a fag,” Sandstrom said, confirming Edward’s words. “Just like that boy the woman had with some devil incarnate.”



Ah. “What?” Michael asked, not caring that he sounded dumbstruck, because that sounded like some major bullshit if anyone cared to ask him.



“He’s accusing his wife of infidelity,” Edward said, his face white.



“No son of mine would be sucking cock,” Sandstrom snarled. “He was either conceived in sin or a changeling.”



“A changeling.” Michael had the sudden feeling he had just dived into an alternate universe. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He stood up, glaring down at Sandstrom. “Stop trying to bullshit us, man. You know Phillips. You’ve known him for a long time, so you better start talking or it could get very unfriendly here.”



Sandstrom stood up as well. “What? You’re threatening me? In my own home.”



“Michael,” Edward whispered urgently, touching his arm.



Michael shook him off. He wasn’t in the mood to be placated. He’d rather kill the fuckwad and make the world a happier place. But, of course, he was a police officer, so killing Sandstrom wasn’t on the menu.



However, intimidation might help.



Michael stepped into Sandstrom’s personal space, using his height to glare down at him. “You listen to me. You might be used to intimidating everyone around you, but that doesn’t work with me. I’m taller than you, I’m younger than you and I’m stronger. You could try to hit me, like you did with your wife, but you should remember that I’m a police officer and attacking me will not go over well.” He paused then added, “On the other hand, why don’t you? Attack me, I mean. This would be a lot easier if I could just arrest you.”



Michael let himself grin a little. He saw Edward roll his eyes and shrugged.



“Hey,” Sandstrom looked at Edward then back at Michael. “Are you two fags?”



Michael just stared at him. “What’s the connection between you and Phillips?”



“He’s your boss. Why don’t you ask him?” Sandstrom sneered, showing his yellow teeth.



Before Michael could reply to that, Edward reached out to Sandstrom so suddenly, the guy had no chance to avoid the touch. Edward hissed at the contact, his eyes closed, his whole body tense.



“What the hell?” Sandstrom shouted, trying to shake Edward off. But Edward held on for another moment before he let go abruptly and stepped back.



“Edward?” Michael asked, concerned by the other man’s paleness and the eyes that seemed suddenly too huge for his face.



Edward breathed deeply. “Just give me a moment, okay.”



“What the fuck did you do?” Sandstrom asked.



“You shut up!” Michael snapped, although he had to admit the very same question was on his own tongue as well. He had seen Edward work, had seen him feel emotions and pain, but he had never seen him touch a living person like that. Nor had he ever seen that kind of intensity in anyone’s eyes.



“You killed your own son,” Edward said slowly and Michael sucked in a sharp breath.



“What?” he asked, not able to hide his shock.



But Edward wasn’t done shocking him. “You killed those boys.” His voice was without emotion, almost eerily blank, the words coming out sharp and clipped.



“I didn’t,” Sandstrom said. He took a step back and his knee hit the table, making him stumble. But he caught himself on the armrest of his chair and straightened up again. “I didn’t,” he repeated. “I wouldn’t touch such filth. Those boys. Those sinners.”



“Oh my God, Benjamin.”



Michael turned around and saw Mrs. Sandstrom standing in the door with an expression of utter horror on her battered face. “Sven. You … did this? To Sven?”



“I didn’t do it,” Sandstrom repeated once again. “I never had such urges. I’m not a fag.”



“But you are,” Edward said in that same eerily expressionless voice. Suddenly he straightened and blinked. “You are a fag.”



“Don’t call me that!” Sandstrom screamed, pointing his finger at Edward. “Don’t you call me names. Or I will-“



“What?” Edward interrupted him. “Kill me? Like you killed these kids? Like you killed your own son?” He turned to Michael. “It’s always the deeply closeted ones who hate the most.”



The only thing Michael could do was nod. Jesus. He shook himself. There would be time to digest all this later - now was business. “Benjamin Sandstrom. You are under arrest for the murder of Sven Sandstrom. You-“



He didn’t get any further, because all of a sudden Sandstrom sprang into action, turning around so quickly, all of them gasped in surprise. Before Michael could pull his own gun from the holster, Sandstrom already had one in his hands.



Fuck. Michael wanted to kick himself for being such an idiot.



“You ain’t arresting me,” Sandstrom sneered, waving his pistol around.



Michael held up his hands. “Mr. Sandstrom-“



“I ain’t interested in what you’re saying, Detective.” He spat the last word. “You, woman!” he shouted at his wife. “Bring me the money!”



“No!” Mrs. Sandstrom replied, her mouth a stubborn line. “As God is my witness, I will not help you.”



Of all the times to stand up to her husband, this was not the right one. “Mrs. Sandstrom-“ Michael began, but was cut off, once again by a shot ringing out. In utter shock he saw the red on Mrs. Sandstrom’s forehead before the woman crumpled to the floor.



Benjamin Sandstrom gave her a disgusted glance. “Never shoulda married the bitch,” he snarled. In the next moment he waved his gun at Edward and Michael again. “See, I’m serious?”



“Yes, we do,” Edward said calmly, his face white as a sheet.



“Good.” Sandstrom nodded. “You both. Sit down.”



Michael didn’t think about it twice. As much as he hated it, Edward was with him, and no way was he taking a risk that Sandstrom to use his weapon again. So he sat, glad when he saw Edward was doing the same.



“Ah. You can be taught.” Sandstrom sneered down at them, and Michael’s fist wanted so badly to hit that face he could taste it. “Now,” Sandstrom said. “Pull out your handcuffs, and cuff yourself. Slowly.”



Michael reached for his cuffs, clicked one around his left wrist, but before he could do the same with his right, Sandstrom waved his gun again. “No, not like that. Behind your back.”



With a sigh, Michael complied. “Now – what?”



“You.” Sandstrom pointed at Edward. “You remove his cell and weapon.”



Edward’s eyes met Michael’s for a moment, before he reached into Michael’s jacket, and removed the phone and the weapon.



“On the table,” Sandstrom ordered.



As soon as it was done, Sandstrom came closer, gave Edward a look that sent an icy coldness down Michael’s spine, and with a movement that seemed almost gentle Sandstrom hit Edward on the side of the head with his gun. Edward instantly lost consciousness and crumpled to the floor.



Sandstrom turned to Michael. “I’ll be going now.” He reached for the phone and the gun on the table. “And this,” he said, “is a present for you, Detective.” With that he pointed the gun at Michael’s thigh and pulled the trigger.



White, hot pain shot through Michael at the impact, making him groan and sag.



The last thing he heard was the door closing from the outside.



To be continued …