The Edge of Sleep

The Edge of Sleep by David Wiltse Read Free Book Online

Book: The Edge of Sleep by David Wiltse Read Free Book Online
Authors: David Wiltse
would at any moment.
    “Why shouldn’t he? He’s hungry, he’ll eat.”
    He looked directly at her for the first time in several minutes.
    “It’s going to hurt a lot,” he said.
    “I know.” She touched his hand with hers. “I do know, John.”
    Karen paused, realizing that it was not enough. “I have sole custody of my son,” she said at last.
    “Your husband fought it.” It was not a question.
    “Bitterly,” she said.
    “And?”
    She knew he was way ahead of her already, but there was sometimes a necessity to go through the formalities.
    “And I wasn’t sure I should have custody at all. I’m not sure I deserve it ... I’m not sure I want it ...”
    Becker waited, looking at her.
    After a moment she said, “It scares me, John. Having complete control over him. I’m ... I’m sometimes afraid of what I might do.”
    Becker nodded slowly. He gripped her hand with his own, squeezing briefly.
    “You won’t,” he said. Becker pulled the file toward himself. “I’ll need to look at everything as soon as you can get it to me,” he said. “But first I need to be alone with these.”
    She knew he meant the photographs of the dead boys and she thought she saw him shudder.

Chapter 4
    D EE WAS FEELING GOOD; she couldn’t remember when she’d been in such good spirits. She felt so good she didn’t even object to the sight of Ash eating tacos.
    She saw the man watching her from his solitary table in the corner where he sat nursing a cigarette and a cup of coffee. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She knew she was fascinating. A vibrant, attractive woman, full of energy and high spirits. Who wouldn’t watch her? Who wouldn’t want her?
    She said something to Ash and then laughed, tossing her head back, filling the place with her ringing merriment. Dee loved her laugh; it was so free, so honest. She hated people who tittered behind their hands. Dee let the whole world know she was amused, god damn it, and if it was too loud for some people, then to hell with them. They didn’t know how to have a good time. If there was anything Dee did know, it was how to have a good time. She was even having a good time right this minute, watching Ash spill taco and salsa on himself. She knew the secret of joy. Some book had come out with a title like that The Secret of Joy. and Dee had read it to see if the author was someone like herself. But she hadn’t known what she was talking about, and after a few pages Dee had thrown the book across the room in disgust. The real secret, the only secret, was to just let yourself. If you wanted to laugh, then laugh, god damn it. Laugh as if you meant it and screw all the poker-faced killjoys like that toad of a cashier who was looking at Dee as if she had her tit caught in the cash register. The man in the corner knew what she was laughing about. She could see him smiling from the corner of her eye. She could tell he was caught and mesmerized by her.
    “Dee,” Ash said, sounding worried again. He looked at her with concern, bits of tomato and shredded lettuce spilling from the taco.
    There was a bar at the restaurant just a few doors down. Dee had made note of it as soon as they entered the mall.
    “Ash, I want you to walk home,” she said.
    His eyes went wide.
    “You work your face like a clown,” she said lightly.
    “Sorry,” Ash said.
    “Don’t apologize. I like it; it makes you easy to read.” She patted him on the cheek.
    “Walk home?”
    “Don’t act like you’ve never done it before. You know how to do it. Go out of the mall and turn left.”
    “Left,” he said, concentrating.
    “Turn left and just keep walking until you get to the motel. You know the name of our motel, don’t you?”
    “Okay,” said Ash.
    “Okay nothing. What is it?”
    Ash furrowed his brow and she laughed again. “You wouldn’t even have to paint the creases and lines on the way clowns do,” she said merrily. She glanced to see if the man in the corner was appreciating

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