Chapters (78)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Acknowledgments
- Discover More
- About the Author
- Also by Owen Laukkanen
He laughed, but there wasn’t any joy in it. “I remember pulling up outside the store, and you know, feeling kind of excited and nervous and whatever, and then Dev pulls out this pistol. And I don’t know where it came from, or how he got it, but I’d never seen it before. But anyway, he told me he was going to use it to scare the shit out of the guy inside.”
Burke met her eyes. “The guy’s name was Faraz Karim. He was an immigrant from Pakistan, father to a little boy. Dev told me Karim made a move on him, pulled his own gun from under the counter, told me it was self-defense. But they showed me the security tapes later, and it didn’t look like the guy did much that required defending.”
“So you didn’t actually kill anyone,” Jess said. “You weren’t actually guilty.”
“No, I’m guilty. The law doesn’t distinguish between who pulls the trigger, not in robbery/homicide. I was there. I took part. I knew Dev had a gun, and I didn’t stop him. And because I didn’t do anything, Faraz Karim’s little boy lost his father. I’m guilty as it gets. I’ve never argued I wasn’t.”
“But you were outside. You weren’t even in the store when it happened.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He sat forward. “Listen to me: it doesn’t matter a bit. I was there; I played my role. The law says what I did was murder, and as far as I’m concerned, the law’s right.”
She didn’t have any answer. After a beat he continued.
“They caught up to us pretty quick,” he said. “Dev knew a girl with a place out in the county, and we went over and got hammered on Boone’s Farm and raised hell. The neighbors called the law, on account of Dev shooting his gun off, and when the sheriff’s deputies arrived, they matched the plates on the car in the driveway to the car at the robbery.” He paused. “It was my mom’s car, an Olds 88. She never really forgave me for that.
“I knew I was finished as soon as they arrested us,” he said. “There was no point in fighting it. They had security tape and my mom’s car at the scene, and a witness across the street who swore he could identify the both of us. I copped to what I did and kept my mouth shut about Dev, and they gave me my time, and I served it.”
“And what?” Jess asked, suddenly angry at the calm in his voice. “You think that absolves you for what happened that night?”