All Things Lost by Josh Aterovis Read Free Book Online Page B

of them yet, so maybe we'll find one we like more.”
         I sighed, “Where to?”
         “You still don't want to do this do you?”
         “Don't start,” I said wearily, “It's not that. I had a fight with Adam last night about moving out.”
         “What kind of fight?”
         “Well, fight might be an exaggeration. He just freaked out when I told him we were looking at apartments.”
         “Why would he freak out about that?”
         “Steve said it's because it's hard for him to let go. And I just kind of sprung it on him.”
         “Sprung it on him? You mean he wasn't expecting it?”
         “No, I guess not.” I looked over at Asher. He was frowning back at me. “What?”
         “What is with you guys? I mean my parents expect me to get out on my own.”
         “You have to remember that Adam lost Seth, so it's different for him.”
         “Yeah, but you're not Seth.”
         “What's that supposed to mean?”
         “It means you're not…”
         He was cut off mid-sentence by a sickening crunch and a gut-wrenching jolt. Before I could react the air bag exploded into my face. We'd had an accident while I was distracted
     
    Chapter 4

         I fought the air bag down with a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. Obviously I had run into something, but with this stupid thing in my face I didn't know what. A rusty old Buick loomed into view and my first thought was that I couldn't have caused too much damage to that tank. I had a feeling that my little VW Bug had faired much worse.
         “Are you ok?” I asked Asher.
         He was rubbing his elbow but looked fine at first glance. “Yeah,” he said somewhat shakily, “What happened?”
         “I hit somebody. I'd better go see if they're ok.”
         I scrambled out of my car to find the Buick's owner inspecting the damage. He was in his late-fifties, early-sixties with battleship gray hair and a clean-shaven face. Judging by his hairstyle and state of extreme physical fitness I guessed he was probably retired military or a cop.
         “Are you ok?” I asked him.
         He looked up at me from behind dark mirrored sunglasses and I decided it was definitely a cop. Just my luck.
         “I'm fine. Wish I could say the same for Bessie.”
          “Bessie?” I said , the feeling of dread jumped up a few notches on the stress scale.  
         “Bessie,” he said with slow deliberation, “was my trusted companion for 20 years. We've been through a lot together, but I'm afraid she's gone now.”
          “B-b-because of me?” I stuttered.
         “Well it sure as hell wasn't my fault you slammed into the back of me. Bessie, by the way, is, or rather was, my car.”
         “You're car,” I said with much relief.
         “Yes, my car. I'm assuming you have insurance on your little toy car there.”
         “Yes sir, I do,” I said and dove back into the car. Asher had my insurance paperwork ready and waiting. “He scares the piss out of me,” I whispered to Asher before taking a deep breath and climbing back out.
         He was waiting for me with a card in his hand, which he handed to me in exchange for my information.
         Printed on the card in neat embossed letters was: “Shane Novak, Private Investigator.” A phone number was printed under that.
    “You're a private detective?” I said. I was unable to keep the note of awe out of my voice.
         Novak gave a grunt, “Retired police detective,” he said as he copied my insurance information into a 3x5 index card, “I left active duty 3 years ago and found out I wasn't cut out to sit at home and tend the lawn. My wife died of cancer two years ago and I decided to open my own practice. I only take the cases I want to take and I stay busy. It's not like it is on TV though.” He straightened up and looked me over from head to toe. “So you're the