After we left the police station.
I took my mother back to the hospital.
Sophia and Gordon followed me there.
Sophia pulled me into an empty room at the far end of the hall and slapped the notarized deed down on the cabinet.
"Sign it. Once you do, I'll put in a good word for Gordon, tell the police it was all a misunderstanding."
She sat with her legs crossed, her tone like she was doing me a favor.
"We were together five years, after all. I don't want to see you go to prison."
I knew they were working together to corner me. Even if they didn't drop the case, without evidence they couldn't touch me.
"Sophia, get this straight. My apartment will never have his name on it."
"Graham, you're in no position to bargain with me."
"But that's marital—"
Gordon came limping around on his crutch and cut me off.
"Maybe Graham just hasn't thought it through yet."
He turned his face toward me, his tone like he was looking out for me.
"Graham, that illness of your mother's, the worst thing for her is stress. If you don't sign, Sophia's going to be upset, and then she goes and talks to your mom about all this... You okay with that?"
Something roared in my head, and I fixed my eyes on him.
If a look could kill, he'd have been ground to pulp right then.
"Farley, what the hell are you getting at?"
The faintest curve touched the corner of his mouth. He turned to Sophia.
"Sophia, step outside for a bit. Men talk better on their own."
Pleased with herself, Sophia stood up, walked out, and shut the door.
Two seconds of quiet.
Then a sudden whoosh by my ear.
Gordon's crutch cracked against the back of my skull with a dull thud.
The metal handle came down and my whole body pitched sideways to the floor, my cheek grinding into the wood.
Then a foot pressed down on the back of my neck, crushing my windpipe until it made a choked, rattling sound.
Gordon's voice was flat. "Graham, you think you've got a choice? You want to take us to court?"
"Your finances, your mother's health. Can they hold out that long?"
He crouched down, grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, and pulled a stun baton from inside his coat.
A crackle, and a blue arc burst between the contacts, less than four inches from my eyes.
"My legs are already ruined. I've got nothing to lose. Your mom's still in a hospital bed, and after liver cancer surgery the last thing she needs is a shock. If she finds out her son got carried out of here, you think she makes it to next year?"
I could feel how deranged Gordon really was.
And I couldn't make sense of it.
His family had money, he had his overseas polish, a life that good. Why was he so set on squeezing this one apartment out of me?
I had no time to think it through, no time to answer.
The arc crackled again.
My body arched against my will, my mouth full of the taste of iron.
My vision dissolved into white static.
My mother's face when she was young flashed up all at once.
She stood behind the counter of the hardware store, loose change in her apron pocket, smiling and waving me over.
That day she said, eat while it's hot, I'm not hungry.
My hand twitched, fumbling in my pocket for my phone.
I dragged every last bit of strength into my index finger and pressed the phone's volume-up button three times fast.
Then I passed out.
Everything around me went cloud-white.
My parents' voices drifted in and out of my ears.
Was this what dying felt like?
I'd lost count of how many times Gordon had raised the stun baton.
Then, all at once.
Crash!!!
The door flew open under a single kick.
The security lock ripped off the frame, splinters scattering into the hallway.
Sophia tumbled in from outside with a shriek.
Then.
A figure in a gray suit stood backlit in the doorway, holding up a phone that was recording everything.
"Move one more time. That's another charge."
