A Shred of Truth by Eric Wilson

done and unknowingly infused me with a sense of responsibility. I thought of Mom. I thought of Sammie. It was time to resolve this issue with AX, yes—but not the way I’d planned.
    Forget the Desert Eagle. No .40-caliber revenge this time.
    Once Johnny Ray and Felicia were tucked away under the cops’ watchful eyes, I’d turn over the evidence—the stained razor blade, the empty casing, and the note—and let Metro’s finest take over.
    I’d do it to honor my mother. And Sammie too.
    End of story.

    After Johnny’s recording session, I told him the bare bones of my Cheekwood encounter, and he agreed to go directly to the West Precinct, where Detective Meade would take a statement.
    One down. One to go.
    Armed with the yellow pages in DAD’s front lobby, I began my search for Felicia. She’d worn a dress provided by my foe, flown here on his tab, and it seemed feasible he could’ve put her up in a local hotel.
    A long shot, sure. But what else did I have?
    I flipped through pages of listings, punched in numbers on my cell. One hotel. And another. On my umpteenth attempt, a front-desk woman greeted me with rehearsed politeness as I made my request to speak to Felicia.
    “D-a-l-y,” I spelled the last name. “She may be a guest there.”
    Expecting yet another strikeout, I was skimming down to the next listing when she said, “Thank you, sir. I’ll connect you now.”
    There was no answer from Felicia’s room. The phone went to a message service, and I asked her to call my cell when she came in.
    Not that I had time to wait.
    With the hotel address jotted down on my palm, I grabbed my keys and headed for my car. I sped through a few turns until I was traveling east on Lafayette. Considering its location on the lower boundary of Nashville’s sprawling airport, the hotel was most likely a ramshackle joint. In recentmonths that area had played host to police raids targeting gang activity, drug transactions, and worse.
    Hardly the safest arrangements. If AX
had
paid for her room, he was not only a cheapskate, he was heartless too.
    Least he would be. Once I tore it from his chest.
    I braced my arms against the steering wheel and shoved my head back against the headrest. No. Couldn’t let my thoughts go running down that warpath. I had to resist, for Sammie’s sake.
    Lord, help me keep it in check here. Please
.
    A slight easing of tension. Meet the new-and-improved Aramis Black.
    As Lafayette merged into Murfreesboro Pike, the evening sun broke in final judgment through the clouds behind me and speared the city with bronze shafts of light. Between buildings, through windows, colors merged and bled onto the streets. There was a terrible beauty to it, which pressed upon me again the unfathomable aspects of God’s nature. If he knows all, if he sees the calamity caused by his headstrong humans, why doesn’t he step in more often? What makes him hold back his wrath?
    Shoot first. Ask questions later. That would be the policy if he left it up to me.
    Which is why he didn’t, I suppose.
    Twelve minutes later I spotted the hotel’s flickering sign too late and had to make a U-turn. In a space far from the manager’s office, I idled the engine and weighed my options as the sunset washed my face.
    The desk clerk might not give me a room number, but I could try bluffing. Or knocking on doors until I got lucky. Or.
    What if Felicia had been forced to share a unit with the scumbag? What if he was in there now? My unexpected appearance might put her in even more danger.
    I killed the ignition. Something had to be done.
    I was grabbing at my door handle when the arrival of another vehicle stopped me. I lowered my head and waited for it to park. Then, just above the dash, I got a good look at the car.
    Same make, model, and color as the death hearse. Hyundai. Sedan. Dark green.
    AX had come to keep tabs on Felicia? Was she already bound and gagged in the room? Maybe that’s why she hadn’t answered the phone.
    Of course,