“So our friends’ lives are
at risk because you guys screwed up?” Jason
was furious. Keith had never seen him
angry. It was a revelation. Jason didn’t go red in the face or start
sweating. His voice was ice-cold, but
his eyes blazed sapphire with rage. His wrath
was even more telling because it was manifested in a quieter voice than normal.
Kaminski got angry too. “It had nothing to do with me!” He
showed he was angry by raising his voice, and going scarlet.
Jason tilted his head to one
side, inspecting the other man, and was silent for several heartbeats. “True,” he said at last. “But our friends are out there with a
killer. He took Cody already, but Cody
escaped. Only after he’d been
tortured. For hours. He was nearly killed. The killer cut a piece
of flesh out of him.” The sergeant looked visibly shocked at this. “ And he’s with that man now, knowing that
this time he might not escape. And
frankly,” raising his voice when Kaminski tried to speak, “the police haven’t
given a fuck about the investigation.
Because we’re just a bunch of queers. Who don’t count. If my friends die because of this, you—the
Police—will be hearing about this and
I will be taking steps to see that
this bias and incompetence are properly punished. Good morning to you, Sergeant.” And he turned on his heels, and taking Keith
and Esmé by the arm, marched off to the lift.
“You can’t just ….
Dammit!” Kaminski started following them
down the walkway to the lift.
The lift was still on their
floor, and its doors were still open.
The three of them got in, with the policeman still several meters
behind. But the lift doors were as slow to
close as they had been on the way up to the fourth floor. Kaminski slid his foot between them before
they closed, and obedient to their safety overrides, they opened again.
