Page 180 of Detectives in Love

“There’s always a choice,” Xavier says evenly—and if I didn’t know him so well, I’d think he was completely unbothered. But I see the tightness in his jaw, the tension in his shoulders. He’s almost as shaken as Bernard. “Put the gun down, Bernard.”

“I can’t,” Bernard whispers, his voice barely audible, the gun trembling in his hand. “I can’t.”

“It’s already over. You’re in too deep.”

“I can still run,” Bernard says, shooting a quick glance at the door. “The police doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“Then do it,” Xavier says, voice calm. “Run.”

“I…I can’t leave witnesses.” His eyes flick to the waitress, to the people hiding under the tables—then finally land on Xavier.

“I hope you’re not planning to kill all these people,” Xavier says, a trace of darkness in his voice. “Let them go. You have me.”

Bernard just shakes his head. Then: “I knew you’d be trouble, Mr. Ormond. I knew it the moment I killed Bridge.”

“How did you know I’d be assigned the case?” Xavier asks—and for the first time, there’s real curiosity in his voice.

“I recognized Bridge,” Bernard says. “I handle crime news, remember? I knew he’d been robbed the week before. I knew Sam Willand hired you to investigate it. So I figured you’d be the one to handle the murder too.”

“Nice guess,” Xavier says, not without a trace of respect in his voice. “Did you also wiretap Willand’s phone or something?”

Bernard nods. “Not his phone. But I’ve had ears in his office for a while now.”

“And you spied on Newt and me too,” Xavier says calmly, like he’s placing the final piece of the puzzle. “You created that whole scandal around us and bribed other journalists—just to distract us?”

“Nice guess,” Bernard says, echoing Xavier’s own words. “I wish you hadn’t taken the case, Mr. Ormond. Your mind fascinates me, honestly.” He pauses, then adds, “I’m truly sorry I have to kill you.”

Then he raises the gun, aiming it straight at Xavier’s head.

Before I can think, my body moves on its own. I lift my hands and step into the room, shouting, “Bernard, don’t do it!” My voice is loud, pleading. I show him my hands and pray he won’t shoot me on the spot. “Please—just stop!”

Bernard sways, startled, and turns the gun on me. “Ah, Newt. There you are. Don’t do anything stupid, or I’ll shoot you both.”

“I’m not going to,” I say, raising my hands higher. “I’m unarmed.”

“Good,” Bernard mutters, swinging the gun back to Xavier—and that’s when I hear Xavier’s voice.

“Newt, get out of here.”

I glance at him for just a second—but in that instant, I catch his face. He’s pale, and there’s genuine fear in his eyes, laced with something that almost looks like betrayal.

He’s angry that I came. Even horrified.

But I’m not going anywhere.

“Bernard,” I say, “please put the gun down. I’m sure we can find another way.”

He smirks, wiping the last of his tears from his face, a look of grim certainty settling in. “I’m not an idiot,” he says. “I know there’s no other way. The great Partners-in-Crime duo has exposed me. I’m done. There’s no way out.”

My pulse spikes at his words. I silently pray Willand will get here soon—but it’s only been a few minutes since I sent the message.

“Bernard,” I say again, trying to think of anything that might buy us time, “you’re in charge here. So tell me what you want. Maybe we can help.”

“Do you think I’m a moron?!” Bernard shouts, his face twisting with rage, the gun snapping back toward me. “I know these police tricks—so shut up. Shut up!”

His face is scarlet, his eyes two dark, lifeless holes filled with fury. And just looking at him, I know—I don’t have time. He’s going to shoot.

I know he’s going to shoot.