Riptide by Michael Prescott Read Free Book Online

her as she fled.

    She didn’t start crying until she was on the stairs.

 
 
     
     
    six
     
    By the time Jennifer left the lobby she had composed herself. Whatever Richard had been thinking, she was still sure he would never harm her, or anyone.
    “Checkin’ up on him?”
    The voice came from behind. She turned and saw the building manager, a heavyset bald man with a perpetual stubble of beard.
    “I told ya the goddamn building didn’t fall down,” he added as he walked up to her, his mouth working on a wad of something black.
    “I needed to see for myself.”
    “Right. You don’t trust me. Hey, if you’re so concerned about your crazy-ass brother, why ya got him living in this pile?”
    It was uncomfortably close to what Richard himself had said. “He likes it here.”
    “Yeah? Well, I wish he didn’t. The rest of my tenants ain’t too wild about him bein’ around. ’Specially the ones in number twenty-two, right below him.”
    “What complaint could they possibly have?”
    “Only that he makes a racket late at night. Every night, at least recently. We’re talking two, three in the A.M., okay? He comes stomping in, all agitated. It drives ’em crazy, hearing all that shit from upstairs.”
    “Richard goes out at night?”
    “That’s what I’m tellin’ ya, genius. He’s a fuckin’ tomcat, always on the prowl.”
    “I had no idea.”
    “Yeah, I guess it would be asking too much to have you keep an eye on the crazy son of a bitch.”
    “I do keep an eye on him. He’s always around whenever I come by.”
    “Try coming by at night. Or in the morning, early. That’s when he hangs out at the graveyard.”
    “Graveyard?”
    “The one on Pico and 14th. You know it?”
    “I know it.” Her voice was low.
    “Lady in number sixteen goes jogging every day. Runs through the cemetery. Says he’s there a lot, just standing around, talking to himself. Or maybe he’s talking to the dead, for all I know.” The manager spit out a chunk of whatever he was chewing. “She wants him outta the building. Everybody does. I’d kick his ass out on the street in a minute if the law would let me. Speaking of which, he don’t pay the rent, I’m having him evicted, okay?”
    “He’ll pay you. He’s just...forgetful.”
    “He’s non compost mentis, is what he is,” he said, getting it wrong. “He’s a freakin’ nutjob, okay? You shoulda had him committed a long time ago.”
    “He’s my brother .”
    “So what?”
    Jennifer turned away without answering. She was halfway down the front walk when she heard him call after her.
    “Hey. He ain’t violent, is he?”
    “Why would you ask that?”
    “Some of the women, they say he gives ’em the evil eye. Hostile. Real scary.”
    “He’s not violent.”
    He couldn’t be.
    ***
    When she got back to the house, her phone was ringing. She picked up before her machine could intercept the call. “Hello?”
    “So you survived the quake.” It was Casey.
    “Still have all my fingers and toes. You?”
    “I’ve got all my appendages. And I do mean all .”
    “This is how they came up with the expression, call someone who cares.”
    “Harsh, Pee-wee. Very harsh.”
    “But accurate. And don’t call me Pee-wee. According to the news, Pacific Area got the worst of shaking. How bad is it?”
    “Well, it’s not Northridge, but way worse than Chino Hills. A lot of old buildings are gonna be red-tagged. Hopefully not yours.”
    “This house is solid,” she said with pride. “It’s survived a century of seismic events.”
    “You’d better hope your luck holds. Anyway, I’m riding patrol for the rest of the day. Emergency protocol. You know the drill, nobody on patrol side goes home. My advice is to stay off the streets. Traffic’s a mess.”
    “It didn’t seem too bad to me.”
    “You’ve been out already? Gawking at the damage like every other lookie-loo?”
    “I had to check on my brother.”
    “I didn’t know you had a brother. He