The Killer Is Dying by James Sallis Read Free Book Online Page B

fitting, sharp-collared white shirt without tie, belt buckle recently let out a couple of notches so that the old half-circle hoofprints showed; Rankin in close-up profile, worried or sleepy, it was hard to tell; and Rankin full face looking bland and characterless, as though he’d just gotten up from a chair and left his personality behind.
    Christian looked out at the kids across the street and wondered, even then, as an altercation broke out and the smallest among them kicked off, grabbed his board and swung it two-handed at another, why anyone would want this man dead. The board connected, the big kid went down, and everyone scattered. Thirty seconds later, the lot was deserted save for the kid lying there.
    Now, awake in another motel room, in another city, in what seems almost another country, he turned his face again to the window, slowly realizing that there were no lights outside, that the power had gone out.
    How long?
    He’d taken a whole pill, and when he did that he often slept without knowing he slept, suspended neither here nor there, sleep or wakefulness, dream images drifting in and out of his mind.
    The city had grown unpredictably, uncontrollably, spurting within a few years from a modest western city to the fifth or sixth largest in the country. Freeways and streets couldn’t keep up; brownouts were common.
    Lights flickered, dimmed, flared once, and went out. North and south-southeast, sirens sounded.
    So: he thrived on order, on having the next step in place, following it to its conclusion. But what was the next step?
    His client sat somewhere in a fine house or condo, in a restaurant, in a corporate office, awaiting notification that the doll had been sent. Or, for all he knew, his client might have his own communication lines, might believe that he’d already made the move, and failed.
    He had failed twice before, but never like this. Another predator had taken his prey. If there was a way to get close to Rankin now, damned if he could think of it. And with the cops dialed in hard on Rankin, he couldn’t stay far enough away.
    So what was he to do?
    And what the hell had happened back there?
    Reason and every instinct within him told him to forget it. Walk. Rearview mirror time. Leave it alone.
    Then, it seemed but moments, there was a knock at the door and a voice calling out, “It’s checkout time, sir,” sunlight strong against the curtains. The bedside clock blinked at 2:36, which must be when the power went down. And checkout time meant it had to be, what, eleven? noon? He had slept, slept soundly, for hours. Now he had only to dress, grab the bag packed last night. Ten minutes and he would be gone, a shadow.

 
     
    CHAPTER NINE
     
    POWER HAD GONE OFF during the night.
    So, apparently, had Josie.
    Home late and soon crashed, Sayles was up at six, straightening things in the kitchen, making coffee and tea, looking out at the leaf-strewn yard. He wasn’t much for lawn care, but he’d have to get out there and rake pretty soon, at least pick up the branches and blown-in trash.
    He was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Put tea and a slice of Sara Lee coffee cake on the tray, knocked on Josie’s door, and waited as he always did before going in.
    The bed had been stripped, sheets folded neatly at one corner of the bottom, blanket and comforter at the other. Her bedside table was bare save for a mostly empty tissue box. In the bathroom toilet he found the remains of maybe half a dozen capsules and pills. The rest flushed?
    An envelope on the caseless, sweat-stained pillow had on it only the outline of a heart in purple ink.
     
I knew you would never agree to it, and would do your best to talk me out of it, so this was the only way I could manage. Please do forgive me. Never have I intended to break your heart. And that is exactly what I am doing.
I’ve had the number of a women’s helpline for a long time, and tonight I called. Three came, all of them volunteers who’ve lost husbands