does.'
Thomas stepped into the air-conditioned gloom.
It was funny how natural such things could seem, how easily you could convince yourself you knew all along. Even as he recoiled at the impossibility, buzzed through the slow-assembling implications, part of him whispered, Of course .
He forced the words past the hornet sting in the back of his throat. 'How long?' There was no certainty, no breath in his lungs, so he repeated himself just to be sure. 'How long have you been fucking my best friend?'
Nora and Neil… Neil and Nora…
Her eyes were swollen. She blinked tears and looked away, saying, 'You don't want to know.'
'While we were married,' Thomas said. 'Huh?'
Nora turned back, her expression somewhere between anguish and fury. 'I just… just needed him, Tommy. I just needed…' She struggled with her lips. 'More. I needed more .'
Thomas turned to the door, grabbed the handle.
'Have you seen him?' Nora called, her voice half-panicked. 'I m-mean… do you know where he is?'
She loved him. His ex-wife loved Neil Cassidy. His best friend.
He turned and grabbed her. 'You want to know where Neil is?' he cried. He cuffed her on the side of the face. He clenched his teeth and shook her. She would be so easy to break! He started pressing her backward. But then, in some strange corner of nowhere, he could hear himself whisper, This is a jealousy response, an ancient adaptation meant to minimize the risk of reproductive losses …
He dropped his hands, dumbfounded.
'Neil,' he spat. 'Let me tell you something about Neil, Nora. He's fucking snapped. He's started killing people and making videos to send to the FBI. Can you believe it? Yeah! Our Neil. The FBI visited me this morning, showed me some of his handiwork. Our Neil is a fucking monster! He makes the Chiropractor or whatever they're calling him look like a choirboy!'
He paused, struck breathless by the look of horror on her face. He lowered his hands, backed toward the door.
'You're crazy,' she gasped.
He turned to the door.
'You're lying! Lying!'
He left the door open behind him.
The ground seemed to pitch beneath his feet. The walk to his car seemed more a controlled fall. He leaned against the door to catch his breath. The metal stung his palms, and he found himself thinking how when it came to heat, the whole world was a battery, sucking it up, then releasing it in a slow burn. A convertible rolled past, filled with teenagers shouting over subwoofers. He glared at them in a disconnected-from-consequences way.
Neil and Nora.
The Acura's interior was amniotic, the air was so hot.
He placed trembling hands on the steering wheel, caressed the leather. Then he punched the dash five times in rapid succession.
'FUCK!' he roared.
It seemed the world was ending. That the Argument—
'Professor Bible?' he heard someone call. A woman.
He squinted up at her beautiful face. 'Agent Logan,' he managed to reply.
She smiled cautiously.
'Professor Bible, I think we need to talk.'
CHAPTER FOUR
August 17th, 11.56 a.m.
Thoughts like wasps at the beach, nagging, threatening, never really stinging. That's what it had been like. Of course he'd worried about Neil and Nora on occasion, but he had always decided to err on the side of trust. Trust.
And now look at him: stung beyond sensation.
Agent Logan had followed him back to his house so that he could drop off his car. Now he sat beside her in her Mustang, numb in more ways than he would have thought possible. A wool-haired kid with a squeegee cleaned her windshield at an intersection, and Thomas found himself comforted by the sight of her rummaging through her purse for loose change. He even smiled at her gentle curses.
'Why you?' he asked after she had handed the kid several dimes and quarters.
'Pardon?'
'Why send you after me?'
'The boss thought I was your kind of people.'
'And what kind is that?'
'Honest,' she said with a wry smile. She looked away to make her left turn. 'Honest and confused.'
The
Thomas stepped into the air-conditioned gloom.
It was funny how natural such things could seem, how easily you could convince yourself you knew all along. Even as he recoiled at the impossibility, buzzed through the slow-assembling implications, part of him whispered, Of course .
He forced the words past the hornet sting in the back of his throat. 'How long?' There was no certainty, no breath in his lungs, so he repeated himself just to be sure. 'How long have you been fucking my best friend?'
Nora and Neil… Neil and Nora…
Her eyes were swollen. She blinked tears and looked away, saying, 'You don't want to know.'
'While we were married,' Thomas said. 'Huh?'
Nora turned back, her expression somewhere between anguish and fury. 'I just… just needed him, Tommy. I just needed…' She struggled with her lips. 'More. I needed more .'
Thomas turned to the door, grabbed the handle.
'Have you seen him?' Nora called, her voice half-panicked. 'I m-mean… do you know where he is?'
She loved him. His ex-wife loved Neil Cassidy. His best friend.
He turned and grabbed her. 'You want to know where Neil is?' he cried. He cuffed her on the side of the face. He clenched his teeth and shook her. She would be so easy to break! He started pressing her backward. But then, in some strange corner of nowhere, he could hear himself whisper, This is a jealousy response, an ancient adaptation meant to minimize the risk of reproductive losses …
He dropped his hands, dumbfounded.
'Neil,' he spat. 'Let me tell you something about Neil, Nora. He's fucking snapped. He's started killing people and making videos to send to the FBI. Can you believe it? Yeah! Our Neil. The FBI visited me this morning, showed me some of his handiwork. Our Neil is a fucking monster! He makes the Chiropractor or whatever they're calling him look like a choirboy!'
He paused, struck breathless by the look of horror on her face. He lowered his hands, backed toward the door.
'You're crazy,' she gasped.
He turned to the door.
'You're lying! Lying!'
He left the door open behind him.
The ground seemed to pitch beneath his feet. The walk to his car seemed more a controlled fall. He leaned against the door to catch his breath. The metal stung his palms, and he found himself thinking how when it came to heat, the whole world was a battery, sucking it up, then releasing it in a slow burn. A convertible rolled past, filled with teenagers shouting over subwoofers. He glared at them in a disconnected-from-consequences way.
Neil and Nora.
The Acura's interior was amniotic, the air was so hot.
He placed trembling hands on the steering wheel, caressed the leather. Then he punched the dash five times in rapid succession.
'FUCK!' he roared.
It seemed the world was ending. That the Argument—
'Professor Bible?' he heard someone call. A woman.
He squinted up at her beautiful face. 'Agent Logan,' he managed to reply.
She smiled cautiously.
'Professor Bible, I think we need to talk.'
CHAPTER FOUR
August 17th, 11.56 a.m.
Thoughts like wasps at the beach, nagging, threatening, never really stinging. That's what it had been like. Of course he'd worried about Neil and Nora on occasion, but he had always decided to err on the side of trust. Trust.
And now look at him: stung beyond sensation.
Agent Logan had followed him back to his house so that he could drop off his car. Now he sat beside her in her Mustang, numb in more ways than he would have thought possible. A wool-haired kid with a squeegee cleaned her windshield at an intersection, and Thomas found himself comforted by the sight of her rummaging through her purse for loose change. He even smiled at her gentle curses.
'Why you?' he asked after she had handed the kid several dimes and quarters.
'Pardon?'
'Why send you after me?'
'The boss thought I was your kind of people.'
'And what kind is that?'
'Honest,' she said with a wry smile. She looked away to make her left turn. 'Honest and confused.'
The
Similar Books
