Already Gone - By John Rector Page 0,32

in my head, just questions and rage.

“Did he hire you to kill my wife?”

The man looks at me, and I see the confusion on his face. “No.” He shakes his head. “Your finger, that’s all.”

Every muscle in my body aches. I don’t want to be down here anymore, and I don’t want to hear anything else. But I have to be sure.

I walk back to the table and press hard on the shim.

The man doesn’t scream this time, but he feels it.

“Was it you?” I ask. “Did Nolan—”

“I don’t—”

“Did you kill her?”

“No,” he says. “I killed no one.”

He keeps giving me the same answer, and I keep working the shim back and forth until I’m sure he’s telling me the truth. Then I grab both sides and tear it out.

He screams.

I turn the bloody shim over in my hand, then set it on the table in front of him and say, “Nothing personal, okay?”

The man looks at the shim, then up at me.

His eyes are distant, tired.

A moment later he drops his head, his shoulders shake, and he begins to cry.

– 21 –

Gabby motions toward the hallway. “Second door down. The light switch is by the mirror.”

I follow his directions, focusing on each step.

When I get to the bathroom, I turn on the light, then lock the door behind me. My head is spinning. I lean over the sink and wait for it to pass. Once it does, I run my hands under the water and start to wash away the blood.

I try to stay calm and plan my next move, but I can feel every muscle in my body straining, ready to snap. My breath is heavy, and I realize I’m rocking back and forth, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

I can’t think clearly.

Every time I close my eyes, all I see is Nolan in my house the day I found my finger in the mail. I remember the way he looked at me and the accusing tone in his voice. It burns inside me.

My mind wanders.

I start thinking about the .38 I keep in my closet at home, how I can go back and grab it tonight. I could call Nolan’s cell number and tell him to meet me.

Then I could ask my own questions.

I turn the water to cold then wash my face and run my hands through my hair. When I look up, I lean against the sink and stare at myself in the mirror.

I don’t like what I see.

I know what I’m considering is crazy, but I can’t stop thinking about Nolan. I have to know the truth, and I have to hear it from him, no matter what it takes.

My thoughts keep going back to the gun.

I never told Diane about it. She made it clear she never wanted one in the house. I’d never lived anywhere without a gun, but she didn’t care.

So, it became my secret.

Old habits.

Someone knocks. I hear Gabby’s voice, muted through the door. “You okay in there, Jake?”

I open the door. Gabby looks at me, then past me toward the blood in the sink.

“I’ll clean it.”

He points over his shoulder. “Come on out so we can talk. You can take care of that later.”

“Give me a minute?”

Gabby taps his watch. “Clock’s ticking, Jake. Make it fast.”

Gabby is at the top of the stairs talking to Kevin.

I sit on the couch and wait.

There is a white ceramic dove on the coffee table. It looks cheap, like something you’d buy off the television in the middle of the night, but when I pick it up there’s weight to it. I turn it over in my hands and trace the long curved outline of the wings with my finger.

Behind me, I hear the door close and Kevin’s footsteps trail off down the stairs.

Gabby takes a pack of cigarettes off one of the bookshelves and sits across from me on a worn leather chair. He taps a cigarette out of the pack and uses it to point at the ceramic dove in my hand.

“Your dad gave me that before he died.”

“Is that right?” I set it back on the table.

“It’s yours if you want it,” Gabby says. “I’m sure he would’ve wanted you to have it anyway.”

I almost laugh.

Gabby lights his cigarette. “Kevin’s taking those two over to Central Hospital. He’ll drop them out front. They should be fine.”

“We’re done with them?”

“Didn’t you get what you wanted?”

I don’t say anything.

Gabby watches me. “Tell me about this cop,” he says. “What