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

respect you, though, and I respect your
interest in this, and here's what I will tell you: My relationship with this
client is done. That's a promise, that's a guarantee. I ended it yesterday, and
I will not resume it at any time, ever. I don't know anything— anything —that
can help you. I assume Mr. Child communicated that idea to you. I was utterly
clueless when I went into his office, and I remain that way now. Nor do I have
any desire to learn more."
        "Who
hired you—"
        I
shook my head.
        "You've
been around," he said. "You understand that people can eventually be
convinced to share information."
        "I've
also seen how stupid and wasteful all that convincing becomes when it doesn't
produce any information of value. I've seen the problems that can arise as a
result of the effort."
        "You
were a cop."
        "I
was."
        "Cops
tend to feel safe. Off-limits, protected. That sort of thing."
        "I've
been to a few police funerals. Enough to know better."
        "Still
you refuse me."
        "The
name can't help you, Mr. Sanabria. My client is a nobody. Was a
nobody."
        "Maybe
you like me," he said. "Maybe you like having me around, want me to
drop in again. That must be it, because here you have a chance to send me away for
good, and you're refusing that."
        "I
like you fine. You're terrific, trust me. Even so, I sure as shit don't want
you around."
        "You
sound a little uneasy there."
        “I
am.”
        "You
sound, maybe, even afraid," he said, and there was a bite in his voice, a
taunt.
        "I'm
afraid of my own stupidity," I answered. "There are people I'd rather
not be involved with, at any level, at any time. You are one of those
people."
        "That
could be viewed an insult."
        "It
should be viewed as a statement of fact. I don't want anything to do with you,
and I don't know anything that can help you. Where we go from here, I guess you
will decide and I'll deal with."
        He
nodded his head very slowly. "Yes. Yes, I guess I will decide."
        Another
pause, and then he got to his feet and walked toward me. Slowed just a touch
when he reached me, then turned and went down the steps and opened the door and
walked outside. He left the door open. I waited for a few seconds, and then I
went down and closed it and turned the lock and sat on the steps. I sat there
for a long time, and eventually a car engine started in the parking lot, and
then it was gone, and I was alone.
    ----
        

Chapter Seven
        
        For
more than a week, it was quiet. At first I checked the locks with extra care, wore
my gun when I left the apartment, and held my breath each time I turned the key
in the ignition of my truck. Visits from a guy like Dominic Sanabria can make
you conscious of such things.
        Nothing
happened. Sanabria didn't stop by, nor did anyone operating on his behalf.
Parker Harrison made no contact. I was quiet, too—despite promising Harrison
that I would pass his name along to the Joshua Cantrell death investigators, I
didn't make any calls. After Sanabria visited, it somehow seemed better to do
nothing. Amy and I discussed the situation frequently for the first few days,
but then the topic faded, and soon I was leaving the gun at home and starting
the truck without pause. I'd gotten out of the mess early enough, it seemed,
and no damage had been done.
        "Managed
to escape yourself this time," Joe said when I called to say that seven
days had passed without disaster following Sanabria's visit. "It's good
that you're developing that skill, LP. Without me around, you've actually been
forced to learn some common sense."
        "Aren't
you proud."
        "Not
particularly. If you'd had even an ordinary amount of that sense, you'd never
have agreed to look at the house in the first place."
        "Harrison
assured me he'd been rehabilitated. What else could I do—"
        "I've
sat in