The Boy [mxb]

27

We did a line-up, had the suspects put on a ski mask and speak directions behind the one-way glass. Jeff picked him out, swears that's the man that met him at their rendezvous point and shot Tony from a moving vehicle. At least, it's his voice, his build.

I stand outside while Ken interviews Stanton, because it is extremely likely that he's behind Ciel's disappearance, and I could honestly lose my job and get the department in a lot of trouble if I get my hands on this man. Then I'd never find Ciel.

I learn pretty quickly that Stanton is not your garden-variety killer. He takes sick pride in what he does, views it as some sort of art form. I guess he'd have to, to make a living out of it.

Feet staggered and thumbs hooked in my belt loops, I watch through the glass as Ken reads him his rap sheet. So far, the guy seems like a real piece of crap. Sanctimonious. Smug. Smarmy.

"Deemed unfit for duty. Less than honourable discharge... You've got military training in your past, but you were sent home for bad behaviour. Now there's rumours going around that you work as a hitman. Given what I know about you, I'd say the rumours check out."

"I'm sending NYPD a bill." Stanton examines his cuticles, hands cuffed to the table in front of him. "You destroyed one of the doors in my apartment."

"Knock yourself out." Ken drops a manilla folder on the table. "We're interested in two victims, Mr. Stanton." He opens the folder, revealing two photographs. "The first is this boy. Shot and then defaced in an alley. You ever seen him?"

"No. Did he say I attacked him?"

"Ah, he's not doing so much talking. You know, 'cause he's dead."

"Is he? How was I supposed to know?"

Ken points to the second photograph, of Tony.

"What about this man? What do you know about him?"

Stanton appears lost in his own thoughts, still studying his cuticles.

"You think you can make the world a better place by putting one more killer away," the snake smirks darkly. He's all calm and poetic and shit. "But you can't. Murder is a part of every society."

"So are police," Ken rebuts. "Which is why I'm still employed. And why your ass is going to jail."

I'd like to wipe the ensuing smile off Stanton's face with a belt sander.

"So what if that were true? I'd get TV, gym, free food... not like New York still has the death penalty."

"You can still be charged with a capital crime even with a legislative moratorium in effect," Ken reminds him. "You never know when we're gonna bring it back..."

I would personally like to stick it in Stanton myself.

"I'm going to ask you one more time, Jerry. Did you know either of these men? Did you kill them?"

"Nope and nope."

"Yes you did. You shot that cop, Jerry. Then you walked into that auto shop. You said, get me a new VIN number and some clean papers, didn't you? You got the car all cleaned up. Jeff, that's your partner for the job, split after that. But we found both of you, and the car. Your girlfriend confirmed you're a hitman. You've been arrested for murder before-"

"I got off."

"Not this time. Ballistics is gonna come back saying the bullet in that cop matches your gun. You know, the one your assassin partner and friend, John Wheeler, gave you when he went to jail?"