—Angela was right, maybe he did need another woman in his life—
After Tom took Angela to two of the murder sites they sat in the car again sipping through the photos.
"Warren said you can look at these types of scenes and figure out what type of human being does things like this?" He said brushing through his hair.
"He's not wrong, but not right either, I need to see a fresh murder for that"
"Well that helps"
She took out a fresh piece of gum and popped it into her mouth then continued paging the photos.
"You chew a lot of gum" he had to say.
"I'm actually a smoker, trying to quit, the gum keeps my mouth busy so I'd get distracted from having one"
"Oh, good for you then, is it working?"
"A little, if I get into stressful situations I have to light one up otherwise I'd kill someone I swear"
He eyed her, it sounded like a joke, or a figure of speech, but somehow he wasn't convinced, her entire explosive demeanor made sense now.
She smiled feeling his eyes on her "Why do you think I don't carry a gun?"
"So you weren't joking?"
"Captain's orders"
He chuckled "Amazing" he said closing his door and starting the car.
"What is?"
"You'd really shoot someone if the nicotine withdrawals becomes too much?"
She smiled tipping her head "No! I have common sense Snyders, I don't carry a gun on my own accord, I'll admit I do get a little restless, so I set my own precautions just for in case"
Tom chuckled looking at his watch "Well, the day is almost over, I'll go drop you at the station quick" he said driving off.
"What's wrong? I can watch NASCAR you know?"
"No its not that, I'm usually busy on a Tuesday and Thursday"
"Oh? With what?"
He shrugged "Therapy"
She looked at him for a few seconds then scoffed "Seriously?"
"Yes?" He said feeling insulted by the way she asked that.
"Snyders its been ten years!"
"Five for my daughter!"
"You need to get over this!"
"And I will! With time, stop patronising me I'm doing this because it was 'My' captain's orders!"
She sat back stacking the photos, the bubble expanding from her full lips popped and she dug it back in with her tongue "Is it that bad?"
Tom stayed quiet for a few seconds then sighed looking at his gas tank "See that?" He pointed at the needle indicating 'Full'
"Yes?"
"I always keep my tank full, for two reasons"
She remained quiet looking at him.
"If the day comes I want to leave I'll drive until I have to stop again, and a full tank will ensure I get very far..." He said and brushed his unshaven beard.
"If I really can't put up with this crap anymore I'll shove a cloth down the tank pipe and set it alight, turning this sucker into a one and a half ton Molotov cocktail, I'll be inside of course"
Angela's silence was now due to her shock not curiosity, he looked at her wide eyes.
"Why to you think I drive this piece of crap? Why spend money on a new car when I'm ready to burn myself out in the thing?"
Angela looked forward as they entered the police station, he stopped so she could climb out but she didn't close the door, instead she turned and leaned in to look at him.
"If you want to have some fun, just let me know okay?"
"Fun? As in?"
She shrugged making Tom feel his face warm up, if she leaned any further her breasts looked like they will slip out over the top of her dress, Tom realised this woman was a lot sexier than she gave herself credit for.
"We drink, watch NASCAR, play pool, you know? Have fun?"
He smiled "I'll keep that in mind"
Her returning smile vanished behind the roof of the car as she stood back and closed the door.
He watched her walk off to a black sedan standing one side, her hips swaying in that dress was something Tom could watch all day, but he cleared his throat turning away from his mirror when she looked in his direction before climbing in, he sighed and got first gear then set off.
He had to admit she had a point, it was five years, Mia was there to keep him sane after Leya died, but now with her gone he was waking a fine line between life and suicide.
Tom had to give credit to Warren Jones for cuffing him on numerous occasions and sending in a therapist with bottle of jack to bring him back to the wire line of the living.
He brushed the steering wheel as he turned, this was his second car, the old Durango he drove before was set ablaze, luckily a fire truck passed at that given moment, it was a sign his time was not yet upon him.
So now Tom makes sure he doesn't miss a therapy session, for the best probably, maybe he did need a woman in his life again, and thinking about the body of Angela MacMillan made his pants stir.
But as always his job suddenly distracted him, why would Adele screw cops? Why would she want to be close to them? The only thing Tom can think of was she needed Intel, or she's using them as a cover up for something more sinister.
He stopped at a red light then blinked seeing Moe in the back of a black sedan, he followed the old man's face as best he could, and according to how well Tom knew Moe that was not a happy face, that old man never drove in a car, never even accepted a lift from him as a favour.
Tom flicked his indicator on just as the lights turned, he drove following that car from as far as he could in order not to look suspicious, the sun finally gave way leaving only the orange lit sky when the black car Tom was tailing drew into an old scrapyard.
He pulled over and killed the engine, softly as possible climbed out and headed the five meters to the yard gate, but as he leaned against it deep in he heard the voices.
"What did you see!?" A man asked.
"Nutin man!" Moe pleaded.
"Well its best to be safe than sure right old man!?" The voice threatened and Tom heard Moe panic, he drew his pistol but then a machine started up, Moe started screaming along side it and the first thing that ran through Tom's head was the crusher!
He came around the gate to observe the five guys looking at the machine now lit up with spotlights and screaming he aimed the pistol.
"Police department!"
The men turned to him and he was suddenly met with a hailstorm of gunfire, Tom took cover behind a junk car making sure it had an engine in so no rounds could pierce it, the fire was rapid and clappy telling Tom it was probably nine millimeter sub machine guns, a favourite for organised crime.
He timed ducking behind the car and returned fire hitting one who wailed.
The fire suddenly stopped and it went quiet accept for the machine still crushing the car Moe was in.
He ran over keeping the Baretta aiming, there really was no more movement, he then hopped onto the machine and shut it off, but it was too late for Moe.
Author's note
Organized crime hey? Poor Moe though.
Could it be the butcher's new style?
Maybe he upgraded... Maybe someone sent that gang because Moe was too nosy?
Thanks for the read, keep guessing.