Miller had a police special in his hand.
Mason made like he was going to come after me again but the belly-flop had winded him. From his knees Mason said, 'Lemme have'im alone fer a minute.'
Miller weighed the request. He kept looking back and forth between me and the fat man. Maybe he was afraid that I'd kill his partner or maybe he didn't want the paperwork; it could have been that Miller was a secret humanitarian who didn't want bloodshed and ruin on his hands. Finally he whispered, 'No.'
'But… ,' Mason started.
'I said no. Let's move.'
Miller hooked his free hand under the fat man's armpit and helped him to his feet. Then he holstered his pistol and straightened his coat. Mason sneered at me and then followed Miller out of the cell door. He was starting to remind me of a trained mutt. The lock snapped behind them.
I got back in the chair and counted the leaves again. I followed the ants to the dead mouse again. This time though, I imagined that I was the convict and that mouse was officer Mason. I crushed him so that his whole suit was soiled and shapeless in the corner; his eyes came out of his head.
There was a light bulb hanging from a wire at the ceiling but there was no way to turn it on. Slowly the little sun that filtered in through the leaves faded and the room became twilight. I sat in the chair pressing my bruises now and then to see if the pain was lessening.
I didn't think a thing. I didn't wonder about Coretta or Dupree or how the police knew so much about my Wednesday night. All I did was sit in darkness, trying to become the darkness. I was awake but my thinking was like a dream. I dreamed in my wakefulness that I could become the darkness and slip out between the eroded cracks of that cell. If I was nighttime nobody could find me; no one would even know I was missing.
I saw faces in the darkness; beautiful women and feasts of ham and pie. It's only now that I realize how lonely and hungry I was then.
It was fully black in that cell when the light snapped on. I was still trying to blink away the glare when Miller and Mason came in. Miller closed the door.
'You think of anything else to say?' Miller asked me.
I just looked at him.
'You can go,' Miller said.
'You heard him, nigger!' Mason shouted while he was fumbling around to check that his fly was zipped up. 'Get outta here!'
They led me into the open room and past the desk watch. Everywhere people turned to stare at me. Some laughed, some were shocked.
They took me to the desk sergeant, who handed me my wallet and pocketknife.
'We might be in touch with you later, Mr. Rawlins,' Miller said. 'If we have any questions we know where you live.'
'Questions about what?' I asked, trying to sound like an honest man asking an honest question.
'That's police business.'
'Ain't it my business if you drag me outta my own yard an' bring me down here an' throw me around?'
'You want a complaint form?' Miller's thin, gray face didn't change expression. He looked like a man I once knew, Orrin Clay. Orrin had a peptic ulcer and always held his mouth like he was just about to spit.
'I wanna know what's goin' on,' I said.
'We'll be coming 'round if we need you.'
'How am I supposed to get home from way out here? The buses stop after six.'
Miller turned away from me. Mason was already gone.
I left the station at a fast walk but I wanted to run.
It was fifteen blocks to John's speak and I had to keep telling myself to slow down. I knew that a patrol car would arrest any sprinting Negro they encountered.
The streets were especially dark and empty. Central Avenue was like a giant black alley and I felt like a small rat, hugging the corners and looking out for cats.
Every once in a while a car would shoot past. Maybe I'd catch a snatch of music or laughter and then they'd be gone. There wasn't another soul out walking.
I was three blocks from the station when I heard, 'Hey you! Easy Rawlins!'
A black Cadillac had pulled up beside me and matched my pace. It was a long automobile; long enough to be two cars. A white face in a black cap stuck out of the driver's window. 'Come on, Easy, over here,' the face said.
'Who are you?' I asked over my shoulder, then I turned to keep on walking.
'Come on, Easy,' the face said again. 'Somebody in the back wants to talk to you.'
