Green Desert - Chapter 8.4.5 - Vata

The young man released my arm and stepped toward the detective and the other two youngsters, who froze in tableau under Pí‘oro’s extra-bright lights.

Fírí blurted out, “They’re working with Bhanar, smuggling guns for that gangster, Gogzhuè.”

I glanced at the kid’s pickup, piled high with all sorts of boxes. He had pulled a gun out of there. And you never can trust foreigners.

“Stop right there, Raíngozé,” Sétıpímo rasped, one hand inside his suit, presumably on his gun.

Sévo took another step. “We can explain everything.”

The news crew had their camera rolling. I sidestepped toward them, out of Sétıpímo’s line of fire on young Sévo.

“Please explain, then.” The old detective coughed.

“Zhíno, no!” Sévo burst into a run.

A gunshot rang out. The horse screamed in fright, kicking his forelegs. Raíngozé waved his gun, diving for cover behind the cop car. Sétıpímo aimed at him and fired. Fírí ducked behind the car. Sétıpímo swiveled to point his gun our direction. Sévo skidded to a halt, empty hands outstretched. The horse jerked against the reins, nearly breaking the mirror off the door.

“Shoot him, Sévo!” cried Raíngozé from behind the police car.

I sent calming thoughts to the horse and he began to settle down.

Sévo didn’t go for his gun. Instead, the young man said, “Sir, I apologize for my associate.” He turned his head and barked, “Zhíno, put your gun on the ground and get your hands in the air.”

From in front of the police car, two empty hands emerged, slowly followed by the youth’s head, backlit by the floodlights. “I. . . I think she’s dead.”

Fírí was dead? My false accuser, my attacker, and yet I couldn’t smile.