The Silent Hour by Michael Koryta Read Free Book Online Page A

word as he crossed to an armchair and sat carefully
on the edge of it. Dominic Sanabria was in my apartment. It was not yet nine in
the morning, and Dominic Sanabria was sitting in my living room discussing dead
men. I wasn't going to require coffee to get my nervous system energized today.
        "My
sister is a very special girl," he said, crossing his legs in a manner
that would have looked effete from anyone but him. "A woman, of course,
but I can't help but think of her as a girl. She's nine years younger than me,
you know. By the time she was growing up, there was some awkwardness around my
family. Some legal troubles that you might recall, or might not. You're pretty
young. Anyhow, my father, who was not without his faults but always loved his
children dearly, he thought it would be best to send Alexandra away to
school."
        I
hadn't taken a seat, hadn't moved from the top of the stairs, because I thought
it was better to simply stand there and listen. There are guys who bring out
the smart-ass in me, the desire to throw some jabs back at them, show them the
tough-guy bullshit isn't as intimidating as they'd like it to be. Dominic
Sanabria was not one of those guys. All I wanted to do was listen and get him
the hell out of my home. Even while that desire occupied my thoughts, though, I
hadn't missed the tense shift. He'd referred to Joshua Cantrell in the past,
and well he should—Joshua was past tense for this world, no doubt. Alexandra
had received present tense. My sister is a very special girl…
        "They
found a school out east, somewhere in the Adirondacks, cost a friggin'
fortune," he said, "but it was worth it, you know— It was worth it.
Because Alexandra, she was always a special kid, but after being out there,
being around those sort of teachers and those sort of… I dunno, experiences, I guess, it made a difference. She was a kind of, you know, a deeper spirit
when she came home. A very compassionate person. She was not as close to the
family as the rest of us were, but that was good. It was good for her to be
around other people. Other influences. Every family has their darling, and she
is ours."
        He
did that thing with his hand again, running it over his mouth, the way you
might if your lips were chapped and bothering you.
        "When
she got married, the guy was, well, a different sort from the type we know.
Probably from the type you know. Quiet guy, real studious, shit like that. Nose
in a book, right— All the time with that. I liked him. He wasn't real
comfortable around me, maybe, but he was good to my sister. They matched up
where it counts." He touched his head with two fingers, then his heart.
"Where it counts."
        Out
on the street a truck's gears hissed and someone blew a horn while Dominic
Sanabria sat and stared at me.
        "I
liked Joshua," he said. "Used to call him Josh, and he never bitched
about that, but then Alexandra said he didn't like it. Joshua, she said. I
liked him. Because I love my sister, and he made her happy."
        He
sighed and kneaded the back of his neck with his hand and looked at the floor.
        "They
found his bones a few months ago, and I cannot tell you how unhappy that makes
me, because I know how unhappy that makes my sister. I feel that pain in my
heart, you know— I feel it for her. There are people out there, somewhere in
the world, who know some things that I will need to know."
        "I'm
not one of them." It was the first time I'd spoken since he entered my
apartment.
        "Probably
not," he said, "but you may be working for one. I believe you
probably are. I'd like to speak with that person."
         Give
him up! my brain screamed. Give him up! A quieter voice, the soft
whisper of instinct, offered dissent.
        "Mr.
Sanabria," I said, "I run a business that would not exist without
confidentiality. It would disappear if I did not maintain that, and I'd be out
on the streets looking for work. I