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Afternoons in the holding cell smelled dry. Nathan blinked, seeing a white afterimage lingering behind his eyes; he must have been staring at the light for too long—that hanging light, the only light in this cell, with a thick layer of dust on its lampshade. An old fan was working somewhere, rattling as it turns. Apart from the fan, the whole police office was in dead silence.
Nathan was sitting on a chair. The moment he realized that he was on something solid, he felt the hard surface beneath his thighs at once. He moved a bit. Then moved again. The strange feeling did not disappear. A distraction would be good, he thought, unconsciously moving his left hand onto the seat under him, picking at the wood with his fingernail. Small clicking sounds started filling the tiny room. Richard should be here soon. Maybe the next second. Nathan had just told the police everything, and now they had his contract with Richard, signed in blood. The death of Robert Franks will forever belong to both of them now. The sound of his nails scratching on the wooden plank grew louder. Dick would call me a lowlife. A snitch. A rat. But I don’t care. (By my heels,) I care not, if put in a more Shakespearean way. He laughed gently at the idea as a warm current swelled inside his stomach. Yeah. If Richard had decided to throw him into this dirty pit alone, he should be prepared for this. Prepared for...
“Ouch!” Nathan said. He pulled his hand up, checked his middle finger, and tugged the splinter out with his teeth. A bead of blood welled up, so he put the finger into his mouth, the taste of salt and iron—blood, that is—making him frown a bit.
Footsteps sounded far off, their echoes bouncing in the corridor, back and forth, back and forth. There were two sets of footsteps, he realized; the heavy tread of boots from one person, and the lighter, uneven footfalls from another. Richard! Nathan straightened a little on his seat. The funny feeling of what was beneath him had somehow vanished. He breathed in and held it, counting his heartbeat as the footsteps came closer and closer.
The barred door opened with a heavy, dull scrape, and Richard A. Loeb was pushed in. Coughing a little, he waved a hand through the dust hanging in front of him. The guard glanced into the holding cell without a word, (his eyes fell on Nathan briefly,) then slammed the door shut. Richard flinched, as if the sound startled him. Nathan drew his stabbed finger out of his mouth, slowly.
“Hello, Richard.” He uttered. Never had he known that his voice could sound so much like a hammer on an anvil. Richard flinched again. He glared at Nathan. Were his eyes the twin barrels of a shotgun, Nathan would have been shot. And maybe he’d have Nathan stuffed and mounted next; who knows? Nathan remembered showing him how to do taxidermy before, with robins and jays. The memory sent shivers down his spine.
“Lowlife.” Richard said slowly with a low voice. From the movements of the muscles around his mouth, Nathan could tell that he was chewing on the words he was going to spit out.
“Snitch...”
“...Rat!” Richard inhaled. The hanging light above them moved a little, and its glow wavered across his face. The patch of light was also what calmed him down, though. He neatened his tie, then sat down beside Nathan with maddening ease, “You know I can talk my way out of here in a minute, Babe.”
“Can you?” A question with falling intonation. Thrilling excitement went up Nathan’s head as he shot back immediately. It’s like a shark going after on another, and he was taking a bite onto Richard’s tail. Without knowing, he had turned his head and stared at his accomplice. Nothing but Richard was focused in his vision. It will leave a mark on the retina after the sight moves away, he thought; like the light.
Quietness fell inside the holding cell. The fan started clicking, coughing like an old man dying of some lung disease. Since Richard seemed unable to respond, Nathan decided to keep up.
“I gave them our signed contract, Dick. And the precise location of your typewriter,” he tried smiling in order to be more threatening, but failed, “I told you that thing was busted. They’ll be able to match the dropped “C”s and faint “T”s with the ransom note.”
Richard was still lost for words. During Nathan’s speech, he opened his mouth once, as if he was going to argue, only to let out a rough sound of frustration. He lowered his head, however, which Nathan knew was his sign of thinking, probably thinking very hard.
“It’s a good deal,” he added, intentionally moving his sight away from Richard. The seated figure was burned into his retina, just as what he expected.
“I’ll get a few years of easy time, then probation. You’ll have a very different outcome.”
He’ll figure out what to do to talk me out of the deal. Nathan found himself picking on his seat again. Click, click, click. After all these years committing crimes together, he would knew I would always soften myself if he just...just says he needs me. I hope I won’t get a splinter into my finger again. Click, click, click.
“No. No Babe.” The shark turned around and bit back to its chaser. “It doesn’t have to end like this.”
A rustle of clothes, then came the sound of knees dropped onto the floor. Nathan looked back, seeing the accomplice he revealed falling onto the ground. Richard moved forward for a short distance and grabbed tightly into his right leg.
Here it comes. Tears, plead, everything.
“Please don’t let me be alone.”