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Sebastian and I lock eyes. Then, at the same instant, Seb uses his good leg to kick out the straining struts of the lawn chair, while I knock the gun and holster out of Edwards’ reach.
The chair collapses beneath him and he tumbles backward. He flails his arm, trying to grab his gun. I bring my boot down on his hand, pinning it in place.
Sebastian does the same with Edwards’ other arm. Now he’s laying on the grass, looking up at us, howling with fury.
“Quiet,” I snap, “Or I’ll stuff one of those filthy socks in your mouth.
Edwards is wearing a pair of rancid wool socks under his sandals. He immediately quiets, knowing better than I do how disgusting that would taste.
“What do you want?” Edwards snarls.
“I told you,” I say. “Three questions. First, who shot Matthew Schultz?”
“How the fuck should I know?” Edwards says.
“Wrong answer.” I nod to Sebastian. He puts his other shoe on Edwards’ throat and starts to bear down.
Edwards chokes and gurgles, his face turning a congested red. Seb lets up just a little and Edwards cries, “I don’t know! Nobody knows!”
Seb starts to push down on his throat again and Edwards sputters something I can’t make out.
“Ease off,” I say to Seb. Then to Edwards, “Last chance. What were you saying?”
Edwards gasps and chokes, giving a phlegmy cough.
“He had a lot of enemies,” he says.
“Who?”
“Everybody. People said he was working with internal affairs, turning in other cops.”
“So who wanted him dead?”
“I don’t KNOW!” Edwards howls. Seb raises his foot again and Edwards cries, “All I know is that we were supposed to be by the park that night. To answer the call.”
“What call?”
“About the shooting. Only I didn’t know it was gonna be a shooting ‘till we got there.”
“Who told you to be there?”
Edwards squirms, trying to wrench his wrists out from under our feet. He clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head side to side, like a toddler trying to refuse food.
“Who?” I demand, pressing down on his wrist until I hear the tendons pop.
“Owww!” Edwards howls. Then as Seb starts to press down on his neck for the last time, he gasps, “Brodie! It was Brodie!”
I nod at Seb to let him be.
Then I take my weight off Edwards’ arm so he can sit up and rub his wrists with a sulky expression.
“Brodie told you to be there that night?” I say.
“Yes.”
“Did you get the security footage that showed the shooting?”
“Yeah. But I never watched it. I gave it to my partner. Coop was supposed to log it. Instead it disappeared.”
