The Walking by Bentley Little Read Free Book Online Page B

enough of sickness, death, and dying to last a lifetime.
    He punched the button for the elevator. The doors slid open immediately, and he rode up to the agency's office. He closed his eyes. He could not get the image of Montgomery's body out of his mind, and he realized that he knew some thing about himself he hadn't known this morning when he woke up: he was not cut out to have a high-stress job. He was not one of those people who rose to a challenge, who thrived under pressure. It was a sobering thought, and as the elevator doors opened, he understood that despite his petty complaints, he was generally content with his lot in life. He didn't want to be a real detective, he didn't want to solve real crimes. He wanted work that was mildly interesting, mildly stimulating.
    He nodded to Naomi, Hal, Tran, and Vince, walked straight over to his cubicle, grabbed the folders he needed, and headed back down the elevator and outside.
    He'd called Marina Lewis last night and apologized for
    the delay, asking if she'd rather have the case transferred to Hal or one of the other investigators, but she'd been understanding and assured him that she'd rather the case remain with him.
    He'd talked to her father Liam over the phone, and the old man had been a cipher. He realized Marina was the one pushing the investigation, that her father didn't want to talk about the subject or face it, and Miles wondered why. He had the feeling that the old man knew more than he was telling, and Miles had decided to interview some of Liam's friends to find out whether he'd revealed anything to them.
    He got into the car and quickly sorted through the top folder on his pile. The Gonzalez divorce.
    It was going to be a long day.
    After work, he went to the hospital.
    His father's condition had changed little since the first day, and while his dad didn't seem in imminent danger of dying, it was clear that he was not going to recover to the extent that Miles had initially hoped.
    As always, the corridor leading to the CCU was crowded with doctors and nurses and interns, but he'd been here so often over the past few days that no one stopped him and several people actually smiled and nodded.
    He walked up to his father's open door, took a deep breath to fortify himself, and peeked inside. If his father was asleep, he'd wait in the hallway. He didn't want to disturb him. But Bob was wide awake and staring at the television mounted on the wall. Miles walked into the room. The sound of the monitoring equipment hooked up to his father was louder than the muted noise of the TV. He looked up. Oprah was on. His dad hated Oprah. Miles searched around until he found the remote control, and changed the channel to the local news program Bob ordinarily watched.
    He sat down on the chair next to his father's bed. He forced himself to smile. "Hey, Dad, how's it going?"
    Bob's hand reached out and grabbed his own with a surprisingly strong grip. He tried to talk. He could speak only in a whisper and only without moving his lips, the words emerging from remembered rhythms of breath. Miles leaned closer to his father, placing his ear next to the old man's mouth. "What is it?"
    "Eeeeeee... Eeeeear."
    "Ear?" .
    "Eeeeeee... Eeeeear."
    E Ear? Miles frowned. It didn't make any sense. "Eeeeeee...
    Eeeeear."
    He patted his father's shoulder. "It's okay, Dad." He felt bone beneath the skin beneath the covers. It was a disconcerting sensation, made even more so by the in comprehensibility of Bob's speech.
    "Eeeeeee... Eeeeear," his father repeated.
    Miles did not know what to say, and he kept patting his father's bony shoulder and saying, "It's all right, Dad. It's all right." He realized that since Bob probably wasn't going to die from this stroke, he would be coming home at some point. Miles felt horribly out of his depth, unable to deal with the responsibilities that would entail. The only reason he was coping even now was because the hospital was taking care of his dad's physical