JК
Ыоуве Been Warned :: Patterson James
Страница: 79 из 138”
Chapter 61
I’M SO DIZZY leaving Javier’s apartment I nearly do a face plant on the sidewalk. I stagger for a block or so, shaking my head.
What on earth just happened? I’m a devil? Me?
The image of his mother keeps repeating in my mind, her screams echoing in my ears. Espíritus malos! Espíritus malos!
Again I tell myself to keep it together.
For the first time I’m not sure I can.
Espíritus malos… I’m a devil.
Of all the questions I have, I realize there’s now another. Where am I?
I’ve been walking, oblivious to the unfamiliar streets or even the direction I’m heading. It’s almost dusk.
I stop and rummage through my shoulder bag, pushing aside the pictures I remembered to grab on the way out. Next I check my pockets, but they’re not there either. Javier’s directions are nowhere to be found.
Oh, great. I’m lost in Brooklyn.
“Excuse me,” I say to the next person I pass, a young woman with a backpack. She can’t be more than twenty. “Do you know where I can find the F train?”
She barely slows down. “Sorry, I’m not from around here.”
You and me both.
Farther down the block I see an older man, perhaps in his seventies, sitting on a stoop reading theDaily News. He looks sort of like Ernest Borgnine.
“The F train, huh?” He points over my shoulder. “The first thing you want to do is turn around.”
I do exactly that as he begins to rattle off the lefts and rights I need to take. I’m listening as best I can, trying to keep track. Did he say two lefts before the right or one?
I’m about to ask him to repeat everything when I see something I don’t want to see.
Someone, actually. A man.
It may be dusk, but I can see him clear as day. That’s what having darkroom eyes will do for you.
I wait a second, and again he pokes his head out from behind the white delivery truck double-parked at the corner. I don’t even need to see the face.
All it takes is the ponytail.
Chapter 62
“HEY, LADY, YOU’RE GOING the wrong way again!” growls the old man on the stone stoop.
Not as far as I’m concerned. Lost in Brooklyn is one thing. Killed is another.
I’m not quite running. It’s more like speed walking. Nervously, I glance over my shoulder, my eyes scanning the entire street.
I don’t see the Ponytail now, and that only scares me more because I’m sure -really sure – it’s him again.
Chapter 61
I’M SO DIZZY leaving Javier’s apartment I nearly do a face plant on the sidewalk. I stagger for a block or so, shaking my head.
What on earth just happened? I’m a devil? Me?
The image of his mother keeps repeating in my mind, her screams echoing in my ears. Espíritus malos! Espíritus malos!
Again I tell myself to keep it together.
For the first time I’m not sure I can.
Espíritus malos… I’m a devil.
Of all the questions I have, I realize there’s now another. Where am I?
I’ve been walking, oblivious to the unfamiliar streets or even the direction I’m heading. It’s almost dusk.
I stop and rummage through my shoulder bag, pushing aside the pictures I remembered to grab on the way out. Next I check my pockets, but they’re not there either. Javier’s directions are nowhere to be found.
Oh, great. I’m lost in Brooklyn.
“Excuse me,” I say to the next person I pass, a young woman with a backpack. She can’t be more than twenty. “Do you know where I can find the F train?”
She barely slows down. “Sorry, I’m not from around here.”
You and me both.
Farther down the block I see an older man, perhaps in his seventies, sitting on a stoop reading theDaily News. He looks sort of like Ernest Borgnine.
“The F train, huh?” He points over my shoulder. “The first thing you want to do is turn around.”
I do exactly that as he begins to rattle off the lefts and rights I need to take. I’m listening as best I can, trying to keep track. Did he say two lefts before the right or one?
I’m about to ask him to repeat everything when I see something I don’t want to see.
Someone, actually. A man.
It may be dusk, but I can see him clear as day. That’s what having darkroom eyes will do for you.
I wait a second, and again he pokes his head out from behind the white delivery truck double-parked at the corner. I don’t even need to see the face.
All it takes is the ponytail.
Chapter 62
“HEY, LADY, YOU’RE GOING the wrong way again!” growls the old man on the stone stoop.
Not as far as I’m concerned. Lost in Brooklyn is one thing. Killed is another.
I’m not quite running. It’s more like speed walking. Nervously, I glance over my shoulder, my eyes scanning the entire street.
I don’t see the Ponytail now, and that only scares me more because I’m sure -really sure – it’s him again.