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Dewey didn’t want to hear it. He wasn’t thinking straight. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back, anxious, agitated.
“You need to leave,” he said, raising his sidearm and pointing it at her, his expression stony.
Annie swallowed hard, her pulse racing. She didn’t know what he was on or how volatile he might become. He was clearly desperate, cornered like an animal. Cornered animals lashed out.
“Why don’t we let Mrs. Fontenot leave first?” she suggested, amazed she could sound so calm when she felt on the verge of panic. Her mouth was dry, her throat was tight. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. She glanced at B’Lynn, who had placed herself between Dewey and the desk, protecting Robbie’s old computer as she would have protected her son.
How had Dewey Rivette known this computer even existed? Annie wondered. If he’d been in this room before, how had he not found the box of money? Or had he just not thought to come there until she’d told him about finding the cash? And if Robbie had stashed the cash there, had Dewey wondered what else he might have hidden?
“No,” Dewey said. “She’ll call for help.”
“Help is already here,” Annie said. “Look out the window, Dewey. There’s deputies waiting down below. I called for backup before I ever came in the house.
“You need to put the gun down,” she said. “This is over. Whatever you’ve done, you’re just making it worse.”
He glanced over his shoulder toward the big bay window, and B’Lynn seized the chance to dash out the door.
Annie slipped her sidearm from the holster.
“What did Robbie have on you, Dewey? What’d he have on Danny? Was Danny dealing? Were you?”
He was breathing hard. His arm had begun to tremble from holding the gun up. Tears rose in his eyes.
“Just put the gun down and tell me what happened,” Annie said quietly. “You look so tired, Dewey. Don’t you just want this to be over?”
He let his arm bend and pulled his elbow against his side, the gun still pointed in her direction.
“Robbie was your CI,” Annie prompted. “He found out about Danny. Why didn’t you do anything about it? Because you were in on it? Or because you were a customer? Are you high right now, Dewey?”
Two big tears spilled down his cheeks. “I can’t lose my job,” he said, as if there was a snowball’s chance in hell he was going to have a job after that morning.
“Was he blackmailing you?”
“He said he had video of Danny, and Danny was supplying me…He had us both. Jesus God,” he muttered, shaking his head. “What a nightmare! I can’t go to prison!”
“Did you kill him?” Annie asked, feeling sick at the thought.
“No!”
“Did Danny?”
“No! He—he gave him some pills. We thought he’d OD. We thought he probably had. And then Danny was chasing his car…”
He hadn’t bothered looking for Robbie from the start of this because he not only thought Robbie was dead, he was betting on it.
“I can’t go to prison,” he said again. “I can’t.”
“Maybe you don’t have to,” Annie lied. “Put the gun down. You haven’t hurt anyone. You’re having a mental health crisis. You need help, Dewey. We can get you help.”
He shook his head and spoke to himself. “My life is over.”
Dewey had been caught in a trap of his own making, and there was a part of her that didn’t want to have sympathy for him. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to let him kill himself in Robbie Fontenot’s bedroom in his mother’s ancestral home. B’Lynn had sufferedenough. Dewey Rivette could live to deal with the consequences of his actions.
He started to lift his arm again, to turn the gun toward his own head. He was crying so hard, he probably couldn’t see her. His gun hand was shaking, waving his service weapon like a flag. Then his legs gave way, and he sank to the floor and curled into a sobbing ball, the weapon falling from his useless fingers, finished in every way.
44
Nick stoodon the dockat Merciers’ swamp tours, watching the airboat glide in, the seats full of tourists delighted with their glimpse of this wild country he loved with all his heart.
