I could not look into his eyes because I knew I was caught.
He didn’t have it all, but it was only a matter of time.
This detective may not look like much, but he has a quality that makes him dangerous — he doesn’t know how to let go.
Once he gets the scent, he keeps going no matter what the consequences.
He’s been suspended twice that I know of and his advancement through the ranks has been strangled because he won’t see the world the way his superiors see it.
He is threatening my existence and everything I have achieved, but I can’t help but like the bloke.
I have almost everything I need, and he has a suit that probably has a shiny bum and an overcoat that perhaps came from a deceased person — that was a bit harsh, and I apologise, but you get my drift.
I underestimated him, and now he is standing in my study on a rainy Tuesday evening when most folks are tucked up with a loved one, a glass of something nice and a fire to warm their bones — but not us. We are locked in a life or death struggle. Not the usual kind where two men are rolling around on the ground, each in a desperate attempt to gain control of a deadly weapon — no, this is different but just as deadly.
As I said, I underestimated him. I thought I had covered my tracks — I usually do and without too much fuss.
I kept on underestimating him. I think back and wonder why.
I’ve brushed up against the law before, but on those occasions, I have prevailed. Not always because I’m smarter, sometimes the universe intervened. On one occasion, a detective sergeant got very close to undoing my hard work only to receive a promotion. His successor lost interest in my case — I guess he wanted to make his own reputation.
As far as I can tell my nemesis has not confided in anyone at the station, he’s here on his own time. If I could be sure that he has left nothing lying around that could trip me up, I could decide.
That uncertainty is the only thing that is keeping him alive.