Page 44 of Secrets in the Dark
Now, Hudson stared back at him, hate burning in his eyes.
For a minute, he held onto the knife.
Mason cocked his gun, aiming straight at a kneecap, as he’d promised.
“I’m already injured! She attacked me!”
Mason looked at Della. “He’ll be able to talk just fine if I just blow out his kneecap.”
“Be my guest,” Della said.
Hudson dropped the knife.
“Hey, what are you going to get me on? Visiting a cemetery? They’ll bloody well need to arrest you, too, if that’s a crime. And wait, you’re American, you can’t arrest me. You have no authority here! I didn’t do anything—”
“Except for attacking a woman with a knife,” Mason said.
“I didn’t attack her! She’s a paranoid FBI agent—a woman! She’s desperate to pin anything on anyone lest she be sacked for being useless. Her word against mine, poor female trying to compete in a man’s world and attacking a man in a cemetery. It will never stand up in a court of law and—”
“She’s a woman who kicked your butt, you ass!” Mason said. “Hands above your head, turn around—”
“No!”
Mason took aim at his kneecap again. The man’s hands went up and he cried, “You are idiots. I’m not the bloke you’re looking for. I’m not—”
“I don’t care what or who you think you are,” Della said. “You’re coming in and we’ll find out more about you. Turn around, hands up behind your head.”
Mason smiled. They could all be vulnerable at any time.
But Della was good at her job. Without firing a shot, she had saved herself. He hadn’t needed to be any kind of knight in shining armor, though he was glad that he’d had her back in case something had gone wrong.
Gary Hudson listened at last.
He was smart enough to fear a gun. But maybe it wasn’t the gun.
Maybe he was more afraid of Della than he’d ever admit.
And he was the right type to be their killer. He obviously held women in low esteem. Possibly because, despite his ability to charm and socialize, he had probably been rejected, perhaps even been under the thumb of a powerful mother or maternal figure as well.
But was he their current “Ripper”?
He wasn’t sure. And if not, what was he guilty of?
Della had Hudson cuffed and when she had completed the task, Mason lowered his weapon at last and pulled out his phone again, putting a call through to Edmund.
Della had stepped away from Hudson and stood watching him. Her expression was hard.
“They’re on their way,” he assured her. “Edmund will meet us at Scotland Yard. He has a car coming for him now.”
Even as he spoke, he heard sirens.
He was glad that the London police were on the way. He didn’t want to be responsible for the man. Not after the way he’d seen the knife the man had brandished against Della.
She was good. She had proven her ability in the field many times.
And he still didn’t trust himself.
He’d been going through a determination that there was always going to be another way, that he was sick of killing.
