Runner-up 2

Evelyn Falco’s mind clicked fast and furious. She barely heard Bonner and her husband as they squabbled; her attention was focused on Ernesto. “The devil is in the details,” she mused – and the details didn’t add up.

She mentally went over them.

One: Tony had “guessed” aloud that Ernesto was DEA; Ernesto had neither confirmed nor denied it.

Two: Ernesto claimed that cops were nearby, waiting for his signal, yet more than 45 minutes had passed, gunshots had been exchanged outside, Ernesto had them all in his sights – and still no police or ambulance.

Three: Ernesto spoke knowledgeably about the flash drive, sprinkling his sentences liberally with “we’s” (“We call it the MacGuffin,” “We’ve had a copy for weeks,” “We figured”), and about being on to Bonner, Palmieri and Tony, yet he, a fed in an apparently well-planned undercover sting, didn’t even know that Tony had squawked to some stripper named Carmen.

Four: Tony was the one who’d explained that Palmieri was more than a blackmailer – and the chump had done so readily after Ernesto’s slick, rhetorical question “But we had bigger fish to fry, didn’t we, congressman?” Call me over-analytic, thought Evelyn, but she’d bet all her prize roses that Ernesto had been plumbing Tony for the gen on the feds’ real operation – and her simpleton husband had handed it to him on the proverbial platter.

Five: Tony had mentioned that “the feds” had got him in his office and turned him; strangely, Ernesto was not among them. Yet it was only Ernesto now in their home, not a single other fed.

Six: No self-respecting fed would invent a name like “the Finger of the Beast.” A narcissistic, power-craving crook certainly would. On the other hand, the government had come up with monikers such as Shock and Awe and Operation Rolling Thunder. Hmmm, she’d have to scratch Six.

Seven: Hauser had been a cop and an FBI agent for 30 years; he knew just about everyone in the field and had even written a bestseller, for Pete’s sake; yet Ernesto had shown nada sign of recognition when they’d all spotted Hauser on the monitor screen approaching the house with gun in hand. Evelyn had even corrected Tony’s mangling of Hauser’s first name – and “Hermann” was unusual, to say the least.

Hermann! God, oh God, she’d forgotten him when Ernesto had so unexpectedly taken the gun from her. Her stomach cramped. Where was Hermann? Had he been killed in the shootout? No, no, she had to think positive, stay calm. He would need her help – but first, she had to get out of the house.

Hermann Hauser felt sucker-punched. He knew those digits on the cellphone’s screen by heart; knew the caller to be a straight talker, an inherently good man who took his job seriously. He couldn’t answer; he didn’t want to know. The phone vibrated again. Oh, hell.

“Yuhh.”

Judge Greene’s voice was sad and strained. “I had to call you, Folsom. I’m sorry, really sorry, Dan. but I need to tell you something.”

Folsom? Dan Folsom? Naaaah. Danny was UC, one of the best undercovers in the business, not a… . Hermann’s body trembled.

“Judge, this is Hermann Hauser. Who’s Folsom?”

In the silence that followed, Hermann prayed as he never had.

“Hauser? What are you doing with Folsom’s phone? And what do you mean, ‘Who’s Folsom’? You of all people should know. Put him on the line, please, this is urgent.”

A great weariness and an even greater despair mantled Hermann.

He’d … killed … Danny.

Bhuvana Chandra of Northridge is including her winning entries from this contest in a collection she’s hoping to publish.