Killer by Dave Zeltserman Read Free Book Online

then asked him if he knew who I was. That caught him by surprise. He nodded, muttered uncomfortably that he did.
    “Then why d’you hire me?”
    Again, he was caught off guard. He showed a befuddled look while stumbling about for a moment, then asked me if I was planning to kill any more people.
    “No.”
    “Then if you can do the job, why shouldn’t I hire you?” He seemed relieved to have come up with that answer and he looked at me for a brief second, a thin smile having cracked his face. “I live by the rule that people deserve a second chance,” he muttered under his breath as if he were embarrassed by expressing these sentiments. With that, he turned from me expecting me to follow him, which I did. Instead of using the elevator, this time he took the stairs. I guess he figured he didn’t want to be confined in a small elevator with me.
    After filling out the paperwork that he gave me, I followed him on a quick ten-minute tour of the building where he showed me the supply closet, the dumpster out behind the building, and each of the nine offices I’d be cleaning, as well as the shared bathrooms on each floor. At no time did he bother offering me his name, nor did I bother asking him for it. He seemed too uncomfortable with me for me to engage him in any conversation, and was clearly trying to rush things along and be done with an especially unpleasant task. When he was finished with the tour he told me that the tenants were usually out of their offices by six each evening so there was little chance I’d run into any of them.
    “If they’re still working when you show up, skip their office and try again later,” he added gruffly. He handed me a set of keys, each one marked to indicate which door it was for. “When you’re done each night, check the keys in with the night guard. When you report to work pick up the keys from him also.”
    He hesitated for a moment before telling me that he usually left by seven each night so I probably wouldn’t be seeing him again, at least not unless he needed to fire me. His stare drifted past me, as if he were looking for an escape route. He asked if I had any additional questions in a way which indicated that he hoped I didn’t, so I told him I didn’t, and he wasted no time in leaving. I gave him a head start so it wouldn’t look like I was following him, then I headed back to the first floor and the supply closet located there.
    I took the cart out and loaded it with a bucket, mop and cleaners, figuring I’d do the bathrooms first while I still had the energy for it. I had a second wind after conking out earlier, but there was no telling how long that would last, especially given all the recent changes in the routine that I’d settled into over the last fourteen years.
    I worked methodically; first cleaning the sinks, then toilets, then mopping the floors. While I did this I couldn’t help noticing how quiet it was. In prison I’d kept to myself and seldom talked with anyone, but there was always a buzz around me, always other inmates nearby, and I always had to be conscious of the threat that they posed. In a way that was good – it kept my mind occupied. It was only during those early morning hours when I’d be stuck alone with my thoughts. Early on when I had my reading light I could escape those hours with books, and later after I had to sell my light there’d still be enough noises coming from the cellblock to distract me – an inmate crying out in his sleep, threats being made, other sounds caused by God knows what. This was different. The only two people in the building were me and the kid playing security guard by the front door. The only noise breaking the quiet was what I made while I worked. I was going to have to buy a radio or portable compact disc player or something, because otherwise I didn’t think I’d be able to bear the quiet.
    I needed to distract myself from the memories that were pushing through the silence, and I forced myself