FIFTEEN

Hank was sweating like crazy in the interrogation room they had put him in. In front of him was Detective Manuela Ortiz.

“You’re here with me because I remember you, kid. I hate what happened to your dad. And I’m guessing it has something to do with you trying to buy that gun. I think I can get you deal with the D.A. I just hope you weren’t planning to dispense any vigilante justice with that gun you tried to buy. This place has seen enough vigilante justice already, with all those masked hero types running around.”

“I think I shouldn’t say anything until my lawyer is here,” Hank said.

Ortiz sighed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t give me that crap. I want to help you out here, kid.”

The door opened. Hank heard clacking of heels as a woman in her forties entered.

“Ah, there’s the Assistant D.A,” Ortiz said. “Use your brain now, kiddo.”

“Hank! It IS you!” Assistant D.A. Marjorie Gleason, Katie’s mom said.

Hank covered his face with his hands. “Oh no…”

“How could you do something so stupid?” Marjorie asked him, annoyed, face beet-red.

“You know this kid too?” Ortiz asked, surprised.

“You might say that, yes.”

“Well, I hope you can get him to cooperate then.”

“Hank, just tell me exactly everything that happened. I hope I can help you,” Marjorie said.

Then there was a loud explosion that shook the room.

“What the hell was that?” Ortiz said, drawing her gun out of instinct.

“Sounded like an explosion to me,” Marjorie said.

“I’m going to have a look,” Ortiz said and left the room, leaving Marjorie alone with Hank.

“I’m really sorry,” Hank told Marjorie.

Marjorie stood in front of him, arms crossed, scowling. It made Hank feel very, very uneasy. “I take you in, try to make sure you are all right and you get yourself arrested? How could you?”

“Maybe it was stupid. But I had to do something. Something to make the pain go away,” Hank said, tears streaming down his face.

Marjorie’s stern face softened, feeling sorry for him. She sat down on her knees next to Hank and gently wiped away a tear. “I will do what I can for you, Hank. But you did commit a crime. The only thing I can do to get you out of this jam is make a deal with you where you testify.”

“Anything. I don’t want to go to jail,” Hank said.

The room shook again. Some plaster fell down from the ceiling.

“What is going on here?” Marjorie wondered.

A muscular woman in a bearskin bikini walked in the room. “I, Queen Neanderthal among other things.”

“Oh hell, I thought things couldn’t get any worse,” Hank groaned.