Maxwell was a nice-looking guy as far as cops go. He was middle-aged, middle-height, square - shouldered, heavy belt with strong muscles, he was ever serious.
His brown suit had a pin strip of red and plenty of good tailoring in it, and his shoes looked pretty new and expensive.
He was a steady, handsome, good looking cop, wise to all the sucker, a little tired of being honest, but keeping that way in spite of a lot of pressure from the political group that run the town: but he was a hard, mean, dangerous character to run up against if he disliked you.
"Why didn't you come before?" Manuel blurted out. "Why the hell didn't you come before!?"
The rest of the cops spread out to search the house, while Officer Maxwell Kyanika and his companion Jackson remained with Manuel.
Jackson cleared his throat menacingly. He was big and fleshy and tough. On his middle finger of his right hand, he wore a flat cameo ring. It came in handy when he punched a suspect on the face. A ring like that could do plenty of damage, and he could always enjoy the excitement of doing it.
Jackson pointed a gun at him. "Hold it!" he snarled. "One move, and you get it."
"she's hurt. Do something! Get a doctor!" suggested Manuel.
Maxwell went over to Sarah. Manuel heard him say, "Did he shoot you!"
She said: "Yes, and he also murdered Anikka. Don't let him get away with it."
"Sarah!" Manuel went to her, pushing Maxwell aside, "Don't bluff. I have all the evidence I want. Tell them the truth."
She laughed at him. "Poor Manuel. It's not coming right for you this time."
She was white, and her eyes seemed to have sunk deep into their sockets.
"Sarah -"
"All right, Manuel, leave her alone," Maxwell said curly. "Jackson, cuff this sucker and take him out of here."
YOU ARE READING
TO DIE FOR
Mystery / Thriller[COMPLETED] "My darling Anikka, I know I'm an idiot, inclined to jump to all the wrong conclusions, but that doesn't mean I'm fool enough to think I can manage without you. I mean it when I say that I love you, Anikka , and there's no use my fighti...
