N O N F IC T IO N & F IC T IO N
TOUGH TO SWALLOW Jonathan Kurtz
Does he have to cry? Daniel thought, glancing at the one-way mirror and wondering if it annoyed the chief as much as it did him. This case had started small over two years ago when the first boy, Adam, went missing. Crying might have been excusable after that, but Daniel would never have been involved with it. After the body of the third missing boy turned up and Daniel had gotten involved, it was unexpected. Now that Daniel had spent over a year on the case and another three boys had gone missing, crying seemed downright inappropriate, which was why Daniel was so shocked to finally sit across the table from the culprit and be faced with…this. Hand cuffed to the steel table, Willy shook violently, sobbing his eyes out, not looking at all like the hardened criminal Daniel had expected. Willy’s round face shone with mucus and tears, matting down his too-long hair and the patchy beard shadowing his jaw. Daniel gritted his teeth and debated sending someone for tissues. The wet sound of snot returning to sinuses made him want to gag. “Willy,” he said, leaning forward. “We know it was you. This time, we have witnesses and photographic evidence. If you tell us what you did with Micah and the rest of the boys, everything will go much easier on you.” Willy’s crying only intensified. He tried to say something, but Daniel couldn’t make it out through the snorting and sniveling that filled the small room to bursting. Daniel shook his head in disgust and pushed back his chair to stand up. He had his hand on the doorknob when the waterworks cut off without warning, leaving an echoing silence. “Leaving already, detective?” The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Daniel glanced over his shoulder to see Willy calmly wiping his face with a handkerchief, restraints lying empty on the table. Marcus moved from the corner, hand going to his baton. “Wait!” Daniel stopped him with a hand. Marcus frowned but stepped back. Willy bared yellow teeth. Daniel took his seat, assuming an expression that had won him more than one poker game. “So you’ve decided to deal?” Willy shrugged and folded his hands. “Where’s Micah?” Daniel asked. “No game is that easy, detective,” Willy said with a chuckle. “With or without you, we’re going to find Micah.” Willy raised his eyebrows. “But will it take too long without me? How long has it already been? A week? How much longer do you think he has?” Daniel suppressed a curse with a feigned chuckle. “Willy—” “I am not Willy. My name is Jack.” Daniel frowned. “Want to tell me what you mean by that?” Willy tilted his head to the side and favored him with a small smile. “I’m Jack,” he repeated. “Willy is sleeping. I’ll be handling things from here.” He leaned against the table, eyes flicking between Daniel and Marcus. “You’re lucky it wasn’t Jimmy. He doesn’t like blacks very much. I don’t imagine you’d like him either. He’s rather racist. It’s gotten us into trouble before.”
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