Shadow Man by Cody McFadyen Read Free Book Online Page B

see kind eyes, wisdom, and a well-honed appreciation of the ridiculous. “Yes, ma’am,” I say, quiet. “She—well . . . she’ll always be crass, but she’s got the biggest heart I know.”
    The woman’s eyes soften and her smile is beautiful. “Many great people have eaten with their hands, dear. Leave it to me. Wait thirty seconds and then come out.”
    “Thank you.” I mean it; she knows it.
    She leaves the bathroom without another word. I wait for a little more than thirty seconds and follow. I peek around the corner and now my eyebrows raise. The woman is standing by our table, shaking a finger at Callie. I walk toward them.
    “Some people like a quiet lunch,” I hear the woman saying. Her tone is reprimand as a weapon, as an Olympic sport. The kind that has the 40
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    ability to make you feel ashamed rather than angry. My mom was world-class at it.
    Callie is scowling at the woman. I can see the storm clouds building, and I hurry over. The woman is doing me a favor; better not let it become fatal.
    “Callie,” I say, placing a warning hand on her shoulder. “We should get going.”
    She scowls harder at the woman, who looks about as intimidated as a dog sleeping on its back in a patch of sun.
    “Callie,” I say again, more insistent. She looks at me, nods, stands up, and puts on her sunglasses with a haughty flourish that fills me with admiration. 9–9–10, I think, a near-perfect score. The Olympics of the ice queens is a heated one this year, and the crowd is roaring. . . .
    “Can’t get me out of here fast enough,” she says with disdain. She grabs her purse and inclines her head to the woman. “Good day,” she says. Drop dead, her voice implies.
    I hurry us out. I shoot one last glance over my shoulder at the woman. She gives me another one of those beautiful smiles. The kindness of strangers rears its bittersweet head once again. The drive back is entertaining, with Callie at a slow boil. I nod and murmur at the right places as she mutters about “old bats” and
    “wrinkly, raisined people” and “elitist mummies.” My private thoughts are filled with that sad look, so alien to see on my friend’s face. We arrive back at the parking lot, near my car.
    I’ve decided it’s enough for today. I’ll go and see the Assistant Director some other time.
    “Thanks, Callie. Tell Alan I’ll be by again sometime soon. Even if it’s just to say hi.”
    She shakes her finger at me. “I’ll tell him, honey-love. But don’t you dare ignore any more phone calls. You didn’t lose everyone who loves you that night, and you have friends beyond the job. Don’t forget that.”
    She squeals off before I can reply, having gotten in the last word. This is Callie’s hallmark, and it makes me feel nice inside to have been the victim of it.
    I get into my car, and I realize that I had been right last night. Today had been the day. I wasn’t going to go home and blow my brains out. How could I? I couldn’t even pick up my gun.

    8
    I HAVE A terrible night, a kind of Greatest Hits of bad dreams. Joseph Sands is there in his demon suit, while Matt smiles at me with a mouth full of blood. This morphs into Callie at the Subway shop, looking up from her sad piece of paper, pulling out her gun, and shooting the Subway lady through the head. She then goes back to slurping on her straw, but her lips are too red and too full, and she catches me watching and gives me a wink like a corpse closing one eye. I wake up, shivering, and realize that my phone is ringing. I look at my clock. It’s five in the morning. Who’d be calling now? I haven’t gotten any early-morning calls since I went on leave. I can still feel the dream bouncing around inside my head, but I push the images away and take a moment to stop shivering before I grab the phone.
    “Hello?”
    There’s a silence at the other end. Then Callie’s voice. “Hi, honeylove. Sorry to wake you, but . . . we have something that