The Stranger You Seek - By Amanda Kyle Williams Page 0,68
the flat of my palm hammered into his nose and practically pushed it into his eyeballs. He tumbled backward. “I’m sorry,” he moaned. His hands covered his face and he was making gagging noises. “I keep forgetting to take my meds. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t tell Mr. Man.”
I stormed to my office and came back with my Glock, furious. “You ever touch me like that again, you won’t have to worry about Rauser. I have no problem at all using this. You got it? You take your meds, Charlie.”
Neil walked in and saw my face. His eyes dropped instantly to the gun in my hand, then to Charlie writhing in pain. Neil looked at me as if I’d just peed on the floor in church.
“Get him out of here, Neil. Rauser’s coming over. He’ll freak out.”
Neil bent over and looked at Charlie. He straightened, gathered up a bunch of tissues from a box on his desk, then stuffed them under Charlie’s nose. Charlie held them there pitifully.
“Jesus, Keye, what the hell?” Neil asked.
“I thought he was an intruder,” I said. Neil eyed me skeptically. “I’ll explain later. Just get him out.”
Charlie sat up holding the blood-soaked wad of tissues to his face and gagged some more.
“Jesus,” Neil said again.
21
It was an odd feeling cleaning Charlie’s blood off my floor. Sweet Charlie, the guy who brings me presents in a baseball cap. My goofy friend Charlie.
Neil helped scoop him up and agreed to drive him home, wherever home was. I felt a pang of guilt. I’d nearly broken the man’s nose and I didn’t even know where he lived. We all had the idea he was on some kind of assistance, but I’m not sure why. God, what would I do about Charlie now? He’d been my friend. He was part of our weird group. I had never ever had a moment’s pause about being alone with him. So this was Charlie off his meds? It was going to change everything between us. What had happened to his brain in that accident? Who was he before that truck ran him down in the street, before all the surgeries and the lost job and the lost family? I made a mental note to speak with Neil about getting ahold of Charlie’s medical records. Apparently, confidential files weren’t all that hard to come by. After all, mine had just been aired out in vivid detail on Channel 11. Suddenly I wanted to understand more about what had happened to Charlie. We all loved him in our own way. I wanted to believe it really was just his medication.
The door opened and Rauser walked in. “I gotta eat,” he announced. “And we need to talk. Look, Keye, I know you’re pissed off, but just so you know, I argued for you to stay on the case. This was not my choice. You gotta cut me some slack here.”
I was silent.
“Want to blow this joint and grab some Chinese food?” He grinned at me. “Ever hear of it?”
“We just call it food,” I said.
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “If that joke wasn’t so old and lame, I’d laugh,” he said, and laughed anyway. “How you feeling? Hell of a fucked-up week, huh?”
A shadow in the open door drew my attention. Jacob Dobbs was standing there. He looked like someone had pooped in his Cheerios.
“Oh joy. It’s the Prince of Darkness.” My blood pressure started a series of wind sprints. Let it go, I told myself. Hatred is unhealthy.
Rauser snickered, and Dobbs said, his eyes on me, “Professional and charming as ever, I see.”
“We were just on our way out,” Rauser replied coolly. I didn’t think Dobbs had done himself any good with Rauser when he’d arrived in town and put on a press conference before even discussing the murders with the department investigating them. I had hated seeing Dobbs on those steps too, the pompous bastard, but the press conference had been brilliant in design. Dobbs understood that giving that conference on the courthouse steps sent a message to the killer. I know where you’re hunting now. I’m coming after you. And it would make all kinds of subliminal connections with the families of the victims—safety, protection, authority.
Dobbs ignored Rauser. “Nice place,” he said of the old warehouse that had been converted into a modern loft. “If you like concrete. Really pulled yourself back up by the bootstraps, I see. Well, except for all the unfortunate media coverage.”