Page 50 of Nightcrawler

“I didn’t do that!” Raven shouted.

In jeans and T-shirt, I walked down the hall in bare feet. I was shocked to see Raven standing in the living room withtwo uniformed cops. They were big guys who looked very intimidating. One of them turned and looked at me as he covered the hilt of the gun at his waist. I stopped in my tracks, halfway across the room and held up my hands. “Easy there.”

“Who are you?” the other cop demanded.

“Miguel Huerta. Who are you and what’s going on here?”

“They say I beat Ned up, Miguel!” Raven said. His voice was shaking. “They’re here to arrest me for assault and battery. They have horrible pictures of Ned, and he’s all beat up.”

“We have a complaint from Ned Jeffries,” one of the officers said.

“He says I beat him up and that you threatened him with a gun, Miguel,” Raven said.

I nodded at him. “Don’t worry, Raven. We’ll sort this mistake out.”

“Do you own a firearm, Mr. Huerta?” one of the cops asked, still holding his hand over the butt of his weapon. I noticed he’d unsnapped the holster.

I nodded. “Yes, I do, and it’s licensed which I’m sure you already know. You wouldn’t walk into a house where a gun might be present without checking first.”

“Where is it?” the cop asked, ignoring what I’d said.

“It’s in the locked glovebox of my Ford F-150, parked in front of the house.”

“Take me to it while my partner stays with Mr. Mathis,” he said. His words were calm, but I could hear the edge in them.

“Okay.” I looked down at my bare feet, before looking up at him. “Can I put on shoes?”

“Not necessary. Please take me to the weapon.”

“Fine,” I grumbled as I grabbed my keys off the hook where I’d left them next to Raven’s last night and then led the way out of the house, and down the walkway to the truck. The bricks were cold under my bare feet. I unlocked the central locking as the cop joined me.

“Step back, please,” the officer said, opening the passenger door and peering at the glove compartment.

“It’s locked,” I said, holding out my keys. “The small, silver one opens it.”

He took the keys from me and opened the glove compartment, removing my Beretta. He checked the load and removed the clip, including the chambered round before putting the clips back in the glovebox. He took the gun to his vehicle and put it in an evidence bag.

“Hey, I need that,” I protested.

He turned and looked blankly at me. “You’ll get it back after we conclude the investigation.”

“You’re turning this bullshit complaint into an investigation?”

“Yes, there’s been a criminal complaint of a violent crime. The victim called us out to his apartment this morning where we discovered a man who’d been violently assaulted, so yeah, there will be an investigation,” he said, shutting the evidence bag with my gun into the trunk as he closed it up. After filling out a form, he thrust it at me. “Sign here.”

“Not until I talk to my lawyer. Was Ned shot?”

The cop stiffened slightly.

“Illegal seizure. I won’t be signing that.”

Then we had a stand-off, but I held my tongue, grinding my teeth. “This will be turned over to detectives?” I asked.

“We’ll decide that down at the station.” He opened the cruiser’s back door. “Please.” He held out a hand, indicating that he wanted me to get in.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” I glared at him. “You’re arresting me?”

“No. We’re taking you in for questioning, that’s all at this point. Now, get in the car, or I’llputyou in the car. Are we clear?”