Nightstruck - Jenna Black Page 0,40
stranger than a lot of the nine-one-one calls I’ve been hearing about lately.”
That was far from a comforting thought. However, it seemed he was ready to hear me out and that he wasn’t going to haul me off to have my head examined inside and out.
Bracing myself to relive the terrible experiences of that night in the alley, I told my dad the truth.
* * *
Dad sat in stunned silence for an uncomfortably long time after I stopped talking. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, except that they weren’t good thoughts. His eyes looked so distant I almost felt like he was no longer in the room with me.
“Do you believe me?” I asked when his silence became unbearable.
Dad shook his head slightly, but he was just bringing himself back to reality, not saying no. He blinked and his eyes refocused.
“I think I liked it better when I thought it was a prank,” he admitted. “But yes, I believe you. There have been so many impossible things happening lately.…” He made a frustrated-sounding grunt. “Eventually you realize they can’t all be made up.”
“Do some of these impossible things have to do with stuff physically changing at night?” I asked.
Dad’s little start of surprise was the only answer I needed, and I told him about the railing—and about taking Luke with me to see it and confirm that my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.
Dad leaned back in his chair as if he didn’t have the strength to hold himself upright anymore. “We’ve been hearing stories like that since a couple of nights after you made that call. Not very many at first, and we just assumed people were making it up or were on bad trips or not right in the head. But every night we get more calls, and I’ve seen reports from officers with impeccable records confirming some of them.”
“Then why isn’t it all over the news?” I asked, wondering if he’d have a more convincing answer to that question than Luke had.
He gave me a significant look. “In what way would splashing sensationalist headlines all over the place improve the situation?”
I wasn’t exactly a newsie, but being the daughter of the police commissioner, I was probably more conscious of current events and news than most people my age. I raised an eyebrow at my dad and said, “Since when do reporters care whether their reports improve the situation?”
He conceded my point with a nod—it was a rare police commissioner who thought very highly of the press. “They might not, but I do, and, more importantly, the mayor does.”
“So what you’re saying is you’re suppressing the story.”
“To the best of our ability. But unless the madness stops, we’re not going to be able to hold it back much longer. A day, maybe two, tops. The only thing that’s helped keep it under wraps so long is that no one can capture anything on camera. Can you imagine a mainstream news channel going on air with the photo of a perfectly ordinary parking deck and claiming there are gargoyles on it even though you can’t see them?”
I could see where he was coming from, and it made sense that the traditional news outlets would listen to the mayor and police commissioner when they suggested they not report anything until they had something with which to back up the story. “What about the tabloids? They don’t mind being thought of as crackpots.”
My dad made a sour face. He didn’t much like the mainstream press, but he loathed the tabloids. “Take a look at some of the headlines next time you’re in the grocery store. They’re reporting it—it’s just that no one really believes what they read in tabloids.”
Not ordinarily, maybe, but I had a feeling that the people who were seeing the changes were much more receptive to what the tabloids had to say right now.
“It’s a mess out there, Becks,” my dad said. “The crime spree and the craziness seem to be related, and they’re both getting worse every night. I don’t see myself getting home at a normal hour in the near future, but I think it’s best you stay inside as soon as the sun goes down. If you need anything at the grocery store or whatever, get it when it’s still light out. Take Bob out right before sundown, and then I’ll walk him again whenever I get home. He can hold it that long if he has to.”
Bob had gone to sleep at my