Hello, Darkness by Sandra Brown Page A

the way of your life. Your new job. Liz.”
    “You’re not in the way, Gavin. You’re my family, my son. Liz and I wanted you with us tonight.”
    He scoffed. “For a cozy dinner? Just the three of us. Your new family. Then what? What was I supposed to do when you took her home? Wait in the car while you went inside for a quick blow job?”
    He knew instantly that he’d gone too far. His dad wasn’t one to fly off the handle when he got angry. He didn’t lose his temper, rant and rave, stomp around, yell, or throw things. Instead, Mr. Self-control went very still. His lips narrowed and something funny happened to his eyes that made them seem to harden and sharpen and go right through you like steel picks.
    But apparently there was a limit to his old man’s restraint, and he’d just reached it.
    Before he had even processed all this, his father was on his feet, and he was on the receiving end of a backhanded smack that caught him hard across the mouth and split his lip.
    “You don’t want to be treated like a kid? Fine. I’ll treat you like an adult. That’s what I would have done to any grown man who said something like that to me.”
    Gavin struggled to hold back tears. “I hate you.”
    “Well, too bad. You’re stuck with me.” He went out, soundly pulling the door shut behind him.
    Gavin launched himself out of the chair. He stood in the center of his messy room, bristling with anger and frustration. But realizing he had nowhere to run, and no means of running if he had somewhere to go, he threw himself onto his bed.
    He made swipes at the snot, tears, and blood that had mingled on his face. He felt like blubbering. He wanted to draw himself into the fetal position and cry like a baby. Because his life sucked. All of it. He hated everything and everybody. His dad. His mom. The city ofAustin . Women. His stupid friends. His ugly car.
    Most of all he hated himself.
    Chapter Six
    W ithout making it too obvious, Sergeant Robert Curtis was trying to see past the dark lenses of her sunglasses. Catching himself staring, he hastily held a chair for her. “Forgive my lack of manners, Ms. Gibson. I’ll admit to being a little starstruck. Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee?”
    “I’m fine, thanks. And I’m hardly a star.”
    “I beg to differ.”
    Curtis was a detective for the Austin Police Department’s Central Investigative Bureau. He was fiftyish, compactly built, and neatly turned out, down to a polished pair of cowboy boots, the heels of which added a couple of inches to his stature. Although he was still no taller than she, he gave off an air of authority and confidence. A sport jacket was hanging on a coat tree, but his necktie was tightly knotted beneath a starched collar. His cuffs were monogrammed with his initials.
    On the walls of the small enclosure were a detailed map of the state, another ofTravisCounty , and a framed diploma. The built-in desk was nearly completely covered with paperwork and computer components, but somehow avoided looking messy.
    Curtis sat down at his desk and smiled at her. “It’s not every morning of the week I get visited by a radio personality. What can I do for you?”
    “I’m not sure you can do anything.”
    Now that she was here, ensconced with a detective in his compact cubicle where he doubtless worked long hours, serving the public by snaring felons, she was second-guessing her decision to come.
    Things that happened at two o’clock in the morning took on a different complexion in daylight. Suddenly, coming here seemed like a melodramatic and somewhat self-centered reaction to what probably amounted to a crank phone call.
    “I called in a 911 last night,” she began. “Actually early this morning. Two patrolmen, Griggs and Carson, responded. I have a case number for your reference.” She gave him the number that Griggs had left with her.
    “What kind of 911, Ms. Gibson?”
    She gave him an account of what had happened. He listened attentively. His