Gray Night by Gregory Colt Read Free Book Online Page A

out to avenge Henry? To recover what you worked so hard for and finish the job for you? You don’t need Richard’s or anyone else’s permission. If they thought Knight was the man for the job then so be it. But I wouldn’t let mine or Henry’s work go to waste trusting in him. I’d be there making sure Henry and George got justice, making sure the manuscript was recovered, and making sure Adrian Knight did his job and wasn’t out blowing the museums money on God knows what. That was the best idea I’d heard all day.
     I stood and went to the sink, washed my hands again, and took a long look at the girl in the mirror. I watched her rub her eyes, wipe her face off on her shirt, straighten her hair, and—oh, I forgot I wasn’t wearing any pants. I looked over at my pile of clothes. I couldn’t shake the thought of blood on them. I gathered them, tied my long sleeved outer shirt around the pants and shoes, and peaked out the door to make sure it was clear. It was. No surprise. Richard, Eric, and Adrian would be the only ones left in the building. And the cleaning crew. I didn’t want to think of that.
     I ran down a series of hallways and made my way to the main lobby. I walked to the corner security office and slipped inside. George always kept the lost and found things in one of his cabinets back by the clock. I opened it and found several things hanging on hooks inside the doors. A belt, a pair of shoes, several kid’s jackets and gloves and hats, a nightgown of all things, and, yes , a long canvass trench coat. Perfect. I slipped into it. It was itchy over so much bare skin, and it didn’t fit right. Too loose in the shoulders, too tight in the chest. I tied the belt tight, scrunching it something awful, but it worked I guess. Okay, I looked terrible, but I wasn’t about to confront Knight in a t-shirt and panties. That was definitely not the kind of persuading I had in mind. I was going to tell him how it was going to be.
     Of course, it also meant I had to catch him before he left, and I didn’t want Richard or Eric to interfere. I emptied a sack of kid’s toys lying in the cabinet and stuffed my bloody clothes in. Then I tied off the bag and set out to find Knight. He had come in the back way. That meant he had to be parked—aha, got ya.

Chapter Five
     I’m good with expectations, with presumptions. Everyone says not to make them, but ninety percent of our decisions everyday rely on them. I knew Knight was well paid, and the tux he wore the evening before showed it. The parking area in back had half a dozen cars, but only one cost an extra zero. So, I walked straight over to the brand new silver Aston Martin DBS, leaned back against the front fender, and waited.
     The sun was high and the parking lot got warm fast. It had to be after noon already, and I didn’t know how much longer I could stand there cooking in my cocoon of canvass. Being barefoot didn’t help.
     The back door banged open and Knight leapt down the stairs, stopping when he saw me.
     I folded my arms and he, realizing that standing there accomplished nothing, walked towards me.
     “Dr. Spurling,” he nodded as he passed.
     “Mr. Knight,” I replied, facing him. He didn’t face me back. In fact, he didn’t stop at all.
     “What do you think you are doing?”
     “Ummm, leaving?” he walked past the Lexus next to me.
     “I came out here to talk to you.”
     He turned and opened the driver’s door of an old, black-primered ‘70 Chevelle SS and said, “You are talking to me.”
     I wasn’t handling this right. He threw me off with his reaction, or lack thereof. Stupid assumptions. “Henry Wagner was one of the best men I ever knew. George Wilkins was my friend. I want to help.”
     “I work alone,” he said, pulling back the door to get in.
     “The artifacts taken,” I said, walking over to the passenger side across from him. “I found them. They were my responsibility. I know more about them than almost