“What do you got there?”Van Cleave asked suddenly.
“What?”
“That looks like a weapon,” Van Cleave said.
“Hold on, I’m not carrying anything—”
But before Jem could finish, Van Cleave put a hand on him and shoved Jem back a step.Jem hit the big Silverado parked in the middle of the showroom.His head rocked back—not all that hard, but enough to tap the glass.
The lights went up.Every light in his head: bright, white, and burning.He felt like he had to squint against the sudden brightness.
Van Cleave was still stepping forward, gripping Jem’s shirt.Jem reacted—it wasn’t a choice, it wasn’t a thought.It was Decker.And all the years after Decker.
Two hands were stronger than one.And two hands, with one of them bending Van Cleave’s thumb back, were like magic.Pain flashed across Van Cleave’s face, then shock, and then, when he tried to pull free and couldn’t, panic.Jem kept up the pressure, forcing the thumb back a moment longer, until Van Cleave’s eyes widened, and he’d forgotten about being King Cock and all his little animal brain cared about was getting away.
Then Jem released him, and Van Cleave took a stumbling step back.
“Rudy—” Trevino barked.
Flushing, Van Cleave yanked at the windbreaker.
“What’s going on here?”Little Dick clip-clopped across the showroom in those fucking loafers.He had to be at least a foot shorter than Van Cleave, and he was wearing a paisley tie, but there was a strange excitement in his expression.“Excuse me,” he said again, more loudly.“Can I help you?”
Trevino recovered first.“No, sir.We were just having a conversation.”
“It didn’t look like a conversation.It looked like you were laying your hands on one of my employees.Jem, you okay?”
Jem jerked out a nod.He even managed to smooth down the front of his shirt where Van Cleave had grabbed him.
“Everything’s under control, sir—” Trevino began.
“You’re damn right it is.You’re police?”
“State Bureau of Investigation.”
“Let’s see some identification.”
Trevino didn’t look like she made faces often, but right then, she was clearly tempted.She pulled out her badge wallet.Van Cleave seemed to have finally decided he wasn’t going to shoot anyone, so he gave up on the windbreaker and produced his ID as well.He was favoring the hand Jem had grabbed.
Little Dick didn’t just look at the badges.He inspected them, like he was some kind of fucking expert.Then he took a picture of each one.When he finished, he handed them back.“Now, what can I help you with?”
“We were just having a conversation with Mr.Berger,” Trevino said again.
“Did he do something wrong?”
Trevino hesitated.Then she said, “This is just a conversation.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“And who are you, sir?”
“Rick Tate.And you’re standing inmydealership, so I’d like some straight answers before I call my lawyer and report that the state police are assaulting my employees.”
“He was resisting arrest,” Van Cleave growled.
Little Dick actually puffed up his chest.“Is that true?Is he under arrest?”
Trevino managed not to look at Van Cleave when she said, “Not at this moment.”