Brett Lawyer closed her laptop. The broadcast was over. It was good. It had been good. But after the initial moment of excitement, the satisfaction seemed to die down. It almost seemed as though the punishment was still insufficient. Besides, two of the most culpable men involved in the shootout got away. 

“But no matter. It will all be dealt with shortly. Then, it will all be over.”

A knock came at her door. She wondered if Cathartes had decided to pay a visit. She unlatched the chain on the door and instinctively reached for the doorknob as she looked through the peephole of the door. Fear seized her. 

Inspector Matthew Taylor. She latched the chain again and stumbled back away from the door. 

She approached it again and checked again. He had his pistol held in his right hand behind his back. He raised his left hand and banged on the door even louder. 

“Hellooo! We need to talk! Can we? Hm?” he yelled with a strange politeness. 

She did not respond. The curtains were drawn, so nothing could be seen from the windows along the corridor. She considered turning off her lights to pretend that no one was at home. But it would be too obvious.

“I just have a couple of questions, see. About a very suspicious email,” Taylor spoke with chilling calmness. She shuddered. She breathed hard. 

“Also, remember Carl Devon? The Investigating Officer? He’s dead. Murdered. In a funny little scenario somebody set up.”

Her daughter woke up. She could hear the handle of her bedroom door being turned. It stayed locked, however, as she had earlier locked it. “Mummy?” her daughter cried. 

Brett Lawyer scampered up the stairs. “Keep quiet!”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Please, Sarah. Be a good girl and keep quiet. Don’t say anything. Shhh…”

“Why? Is it—”

“Hey! Anybody home? I know you are! Your lights are on!” The office banged on the door again. Then he knocked on the window. “How the hell did you send it from his address? Care to explain?” He drew his pistol from his holster.

Her daughter was exasperated. “Who is that? Who—?”

“Don’t be scared. But Keep quiet! Please! Please! Please!”

“Okay…” her daughter whimpered and broke down into sobs, but apparently muffled them by plunging her face into a pillow.

“I’m inviting myself in, then!” 

There was a continuous creak at the door. Brett Lawyer rushed down the stairs. She looked through the peephole again. Taylor drew his pistol from his holster, holding it by his side. If he managed to get in she was dead for sure. She sank her nails into her skin, shivering profusely. He took a step back and rushed forward, kicking the door with great force. A second before the impact, she leapt away and landed hard on the floor.

The door stayed closed. Thank god the lock was of good quality. It was intact. Should she drag the shoe cabinet to block the door? No, it would be too light. Should she get the broom closet from the corner of the room? There wasn’t enough time! He’d come before she made it halfway!

She could see from the distorted reflection in the window that he was taking aim at the lock. Shit! She covered her ears, forcing herself onto the ground. A loud bang and a flash of light. Splinters of wood blew across her face, cutting her across her cheek and arms. The warmth of blood against her skin was chilling. 

“Mrs Lawyer,” Taylor said darkly, “I’m almost certain it’s you. Did you think you’d be able to get away with it? I’ll admit it. I was a goddamn fool to fall for it at first. It cost me the life of some of my mates.” He blasted another shot. This made a hole next to the lock, and the bullet struck the corner of Walter’s casket. Tears of anguish drenched her eyes.

Taylor continued, “To send it from Vance’s account was a mistake, you clever piece of shit. Vance has many other enemies. I know many of them. But you’re the most important and most likely. If I’m wrong, I’ll just go to the next one on his black book.” He shot again. “I’m sure you don’t want some innocent person down the line to have to pay for your sins.”

She remembered. The weapon she had bought. She scampered up and dashed upstairs, to her room. She entered. She exited. She held the revolver in her hand, breathing rapidly. It was double-action, the dealer said. She was glad. It could be done. She crept towards the door. She aimed it at the door. Her hands were shaking. They were shaking. They were shaking. 

A loud slam. The door was kicked open. Taylor strolled in and shut the door behind him. He took aim at her with his pistol.

“Hello, Mrs Walter Lawyer—”

She pulled the trigger of her gun continuously. She fired and fired until the magazine was empty. She gasped and gasped. Smoke rose from the revolver. 

Taylor was entirely unharmed. 

His head was tilted to one side. He was grinning wildly. 

“Wow. That was loud.” 

He removed his hands from his ears and looked straight ahead. After a few seconds of staring without a word, he turned behind to examine the bullets lodged in the door.

“Wow. What a vicious attack. Unlawful discharge of a firearm. Assault on a police officer. Attempted murder. I’m now entitled to blow your head off in self defence. How’d you like that? Send you off the way of your husband?” He sneered and pointed his pistol at her. “But it’s a touchy thing to do now. So I’ll give you a chance to sit in a jail cell for life instead.”

“Please… Please…” Brett Lawyer’s teeth chattered. She didn’t know what she was begging for.

“Oh? You don’t prefer prison? You prefer to die? I’d prefer to shoot a hole through your head too. But my boss wouldn’t really like it, see. His boss is rather hesitant with such things with civilians during election season. Especially with who you are.” 

That’s what she got for taking matters into her own hands, huh? She mentally abused herself with a blank stare. Why didn’t she think of calling Black Balsam first?

“Drop your gun.”

She dropped it. Her hands were limp.

Taylor strolled over to it and picked it up, examining it with an investigative eye. “Wow, sawed-off serial number, huh?” With a sudden action, he flung it on the ground in rage.

“Come downstairs,” he commanded. “Slowly.”

She couldn’t help but to descend slowly. Her knees buckled with every step. She had to grip onto the handrail for dear life.

“We really do need to talk,” Taylor said. “It’s very important. A matter of life and death for you.”

She reached the last step. He was face to face with her. Raising his free hand, he struck her across the head. She fell onto her knees, collapsing on her side.