Cash walked out of the Waverly Police Station on Bronte Road. He’d spent a couple of hours in there being grilled by a Detective Milano. Steele carried a lot of weight. Milano didn’t like that. Didn’t like being told what to do. His first question was, ‘Do you have a license for the Glock?’
‘What’d you think?’
‘Do you have a license for the Glock?’
‘Yes.’
‘Tell me what happened from the moment you knocked on the door.’
It was a fair question, but Cash had already told them at the scene.
‘Jesus.’
On and on it went. Made Cash go over and over it. Milano couldn’t hold him. Chantal had met him there too. Acted as his lawyer. He hadn’t been charged with anything. Mick was in ICU, the ice-addict b***h too. Andy, the shooter, was in hospital starting to go through withdrawal; there was a u
