Shadow Memories: A Novel (The Singularity Conspiracy Book 1) by Nicholas Erik Page B

and began to clear my voice for the ensuing interrogation.
    But that was too much for Otto to bear.
    He came at me.
    I went to jab him in a soft part with the knife, but the slippery plastic handle jetted from my hands, the metal clanging against the concrete floor. And then Otto’s broad shoulder was in my gut, crunching the camera.
    Plastic shards and breath exploded out from my body, like a slow-motion video.
    All I could think to do was take the shot, ride it out. So I leaned back, allowing his weight to transfer into me. And Otto was a little too enthusiastic—maybe it was all the testosterone—because it caused him to lose his balance, slip and fall.
    I glanced up, and saw that Clarissa was holding my former weapon and pointing it in my direction in unconvincing fashion.
    “Don’t cut yourself with that,” I said, “it’s sharp, you know.”
    And then I was off down the long hall, every step feeling like a marathon in the murk. I could hear another pair of padded footsteps behind me, but I didn’t dare to look. I wasn’t fast as it was; and, in any event, I didn’t want to see Otto’s well-sculpted body up close again.
    Even the tweed jacket was preferable to that.
    I flung myself towards the stairs, clearing them three at a time. With a whistle, I beckoned for Fox.
    His low growl turned into a bark, though, and I turned around just in time to see him launching towards Otto.
    The big man brought his arms up to his face in fight-or-flight instinct, caught well off-guard by the presence of the large dog. But it wasn’t the face that Fox was gunning for.
    Oh no.
    Otto screamed—a terrible sort of noise, not so much pain but anguish and severe loss—as the dog sunk his teeth into some sensitive material. I put my hand over my eyes, peeking through my fingers at the carnage. Fox released not too long after, but the guttural noises coming from Otto’s throat didn’t stop.
    The dog trotted over after a final bark, like nothing at all had happened.
    I flicked the lock on the store and dove into the dying afternoon light.
    “You,” I said, running away from the shop, “are not going to be licking my face for a long time.”
    A block away, I reconsidered my sprinting plan. I was tired, and besides, it wasn’t like either Manny or Otto was in a fighting mood. I rustled the trinket in my pocket and ran my hand through the bills.
    I yanked the memory card from the ruined camera and tossed what was left hanging on the strap into a garbage bin. I wasn’t going to come out ahead on Chuck’s case. But I touched the figurine in my pocket again and decided that it was possible I might skate by Cassie all the same.
    I looked at the waning light in the sky. Just enough time to make it to the police station.
    Today wasn’t turning out so bad, after all.

20
    A Trip to the Station
    “Here,” Greenville said, and shoved some paperwork and something that might have once been a leash into my arms, “fill that out and put the damn dog outside.”
    “He’s house-trained,” I said, “and he’s got hidden talents.” I thought about Otto clutching his dong and winced.
    “Not to me he don’t,” he replied, heading back into his office, “OSHA and regulations say he stays outside, or no reward.”
    I did as I was told and returned to the waiting room. The smell of cop and stale coffee hung in the air. I doubted anyone would be bottling this particular scent to sell at JCPenney anytime soon.
    Clutching the well-worn particle board clipboard, I scratched my signature into the required slots and affirmed that I wasn’t lying and all that good stuff. Only parts of the story were made up; I figured the gist of it, that was true. Perjury was overblown; if a President could get away with it, it couldn’t be that serious anyway.
    I knocked on Greenville’s door, and he beckoned me in, other hand tied up with the phone.
    “You said what, ” he said as I sat down into a lumpy chair, “tied up and the other guy’s