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Ыоуве Been Warned :: Patterson James
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I thank Maria and hang up, not knowing whether to be relieved or even more worried. Probably the latter. After the way Michael reacted to seeing Penley this morning, the last thing I’d expect would be their having dinner together.
Unless of course there’s more to it. As in, what Michael’s not telling me.
I page Michael again. If he’s really having dinner with Penley, why can’t he simply excuse himself and return my call?
I start to cry and hate that I do. I can’t help myself, though. The more I dwell on this, the harder it gets to take.
I’m about to pour myself another drink when I realize it’s not alcohol that I need.
I need my darkroom.
A minute later, under the faint red glow of my safety light, I get busy developing the film I snapped of Penley and Stephen outside the Fálcon. I still can’t believe they walked out of there together. Maybe it’s true what they say: people having affairs secretly want to get caught.
Whether that’s really the case with Penley and Stephen isn’t clear.
But soon, as I stare at the first shot of them, I see what is. No!
Stephen’s image is transparent.
Just like Penley’s.
Just like the body bags.
But it still doesn’t make sense.
My dream is more than a dream. It’s real. It happened. Past tense. I know because I was there.
And it’s not only me, is it? Someone else knows I was at the Fálcon.
Of course, he’s about the last person on Earth I want to see again. Am I so nuts that I’d seek him out?
No, just very, very desperate.
Chapter 87
I DIG THE CARD he gave me out of my shoulder bag, bold black lettering printed on thick white stock. Detective Frank Delmonico, 19th Precinct, 153 E. 67th Street.
Just the sight of his name makes me uneasy. The phone number is crossed out and another is written above it in pen. A couple of the digits I can’t make out, not that it matters. I have no intention of letting him know I’m coming, of course. I’m banking on the element of surprise. That, and something else.
Only a complete idiot would physically assault me in a building filled with cops.
Taking deep breaths most of the way, I cab it over to the East Side, the precinct mere blocks from the Fálcon. Amid the streetlamps and multiple floodlights, the stone building seems to glow under the night sky. It’s actually quite beautiful, albeit in a foreboding kind of way.
I thank Maria and hang up, not knowing whether to be relieved or even more worried. Probably the latter. After the way Michael reacted to seeing Penley this morning, the last thing I’d expect would be their having dinner together.
Unless of course there’s more to it. As in, what Michael’s not telling me.
I page Michael again. If he’s really having dinner with Penley, why can’t he simply excuse himself and return my call?
I start to cry and hate that I do. I can’t help myself, though. The more I dwell on this, the harder it gets to take.
I’m about to pour myself another drink when I realize it’s not alcohol that I need.
I need my darkroom.
A minute later, under the faint red glow of my safety light, I get busy developing the film I snapped of Penley and Stephen outside the Fálcon. I still can’t believe they walked out of there together. Maybe it’s true what they say: people having affairs secretly want to get caught.
Whether that’s really the case with Penley and Stephen isn’t clear.
But soon, as I stare at the first shot of them, I see what is. No!
Stephen’s image is transparent.
Just like Penley’s.
Just like the body bags.
But it still doesn’t make sense.
My dream is more than a dream. It’s real. It happened. Past tense. I know because I was there.
And it’s not only me, is it? Someone else knows I was at the Fálcon.
Of course, he’s about the last person on Earth I want to see again. Am I so nuts that I’d seek him out?
No, just very, very desperate.
Chapter 87
I DIG THE CARD he gave me out of my shoulder bag, bold black lettering printed on thick white stock. Detective Frank Delmonico, 19th Precinct, 153 E. 67th Street.
Just the sight of his name makes me uneasy. The phone number is crossed out and another is written above it in pen. A couple of the digits I can’t make out, not that it matters. I have no intention of letting him know I’m coming, of course. I’m banking on the element of surprise. That, and something else.
Only a complete idiot would physically assault me in a building filled with cops.
Taking deep breaths most of the way, I cab it over to the East Side, the precinct mere blocks from the Fálcon. Amid the streetlamps and multiple floodlights, the stone building seems to glow under the night sky. It’s actually quite beautiful, albeit in a foreboding kind of way.