The Taking of Libbie, SD by David Housewright Read Free Book Online Page B

“Hurry home.”
    Shelby hung up before I could say anything more.
    Nina was not at the jazz club she owned near the cathedral in St. Paul, named Rickie’s after her daughter, Erica. Jenness, her assistant manager, said she had been too anxious to work. When I reached her at home, she shrieked my name so loudly I had to pull the receiver from my ear. After I assured her that I was “fit as a fiddle and ready for love,” she told me that everyone was looking for me, including Harry and the FBI. I told her that I would call them as soon as I was finished talking to her.
    “You called me first?”
    “You’re the only one that matters,” I said.
    I believed it with all my heart when I said it. I admit that on occasion I allow myself to become confused. Yet all I have to do is see Nina or hear her voice and everything becomes perfectly clear to me. I see the world in its entirety, and it is exactly the way it should be.
    I told Nina what had happened in detail, even confessed to how frightened I had become, which I had not admitted to anyone else. I told her that I was tempted to help the City of Libbie because I was angry that the Imposter had used my name. I also told her that the idea made me uneasy because I would be cut off from my resources, from Bobby and Harry and from her. Nina told me she would support any decision I made, although she wouldn’t have an untroubled moment until I returned safely to her. She was like that, supporting my crusades, as she called them, without entirely embracing them.
    God, I love this woman, I told myself.
    Then why did you call Shelby first? my inner voice said.
    “I’ll be home as soon as I can,” I said.
    “I’ll be waiting,” Nina told me.
    After I shaved and showered, I stood naked in front of the bathroom mirror and fingered the puncture wounds in my shoulder and waist. The Taser marks seemed smaller now, yet they throbbed like first-degree burns. I would have liked some salve to soothe them, but all I had was aspirin tablets that I was starting to pop like M&M’s. They hadn’t done my headache any good at all.
    I stared at my reflection.
    “Screw Libbie, South Dakota,” I said aloud. “Screw the Imposter. Screw everyone.”
    I finished dressing and peeked at my reflection yet again. For some reason I didn’t look like myself. Certainly I didn’t feel like myself.
    “Go home, McKenzie,” I said.
    The reflection nodded in agreement.
    Sharren gave me a wolf whistle from behind the registration desk when I reached the lobby. She spoke in a low, husky voice that sounded as if a lifetime of talking had taken its toll.
    “My, oh my, but don’t you clean up nice,” she said.
    “Clothes make the man,” I said.
    “I don’t know about that, Rush. I kinda liked what you were wearing before.”
    “I’d rather you didn’t call me that—Rush. McKenzie is just fine.”
    “Buy you a drink, big boy?”
    I glanced up at the clock behind Sharren’s left shoulder. Even if I took my time, I would probably be about five minutes early to the café, and I couldn’t have that.
    “Yes, you can buy me a drink,” I said. I didn’t mind at all that she called me “big boy.”
    The star attraction of the Pioneer Hotel was its cathedral-like dining room with a huge stone fireplace. It was half filled, a good crowd for a Monday night, Sharren said. Heads turned to watch as she led me through the room, and there were whispers.
    “News travels fast in a small town,” I said.
    “Hmm?”
    “Nothing.”
    At the far end of the dining room was an ancient bar, the kind with a long, graceful mirror. A young man with sparkling eyes and a winning smile stood behind the stick. The way he ran his fingers through his blond hair made me think he knew how to get girls. On the other hand, the way his white dress shirt strained at the buttons made me think that if he didn’t start investing in some exercise, the girls wouldn’t stay gotten for long. He greeted us with two coasters that he