Untold Damage by Robert K. Lewis Page A

… look at my sitch, will ya?”
    But Jas just shook his head. Grinned like a death’s head. Turned and walked away through the crowd, Griffin in tow.
    So. They did know what he’d been. And Jas had just handed out his death sentence. Mallen knew then, at that moment, that he’d have no peace anywhere in town. Not until those two were either brought in or put down.
    A unmarked brown sedan then pulled to the curb. To his everlasting relief, Oberon got out. The detective didn’t look too happy. Oberon was about to go into Jenna’s building when he spied Mallen in the back of the black and white. He came over and opened the door. Mallen took a deep breath of fresh air.
    â€œI heard where you were found. And under what circumstances. Just what were you trying to accomplish?”
    â€œI was just coming to see her to offer my condolences, man.”
    â€œAnd?”
    He caught the look in Oberon’s eyes. “Yeah, okay,” he replied, looking at the ground. “I wanted to ask her if she knew why Eric had my name and address on him when he was killed.”
    Oberon looked at him for a moment. Shook his head like a disapproving parent. “I better go up there and see what I can see. Don’t go anywhere,” he added as he shut the door and went into the building.
    Anxiety crawled inside Mallen’s chest, choking his air. The wait seemed to go on forever. Finally Oberon returned. He again opened the door, then indicated Mallen should step out of the car. “What’s going on?” he asked.
    Oberon didn’t reply right away. He put a hand on Mark’s upper arm. Guided him over to the brown sedan. Opened the back door. “Get in,” Oberon said in a flat tone.
    â€œWhat? I didn’t do anything!”
    â€œ I know that. But those Police up there told me they found you standing over a woman who had been beaten into unconsciousness. Her apartment has been torn apart with a great degree of violence. Like someone was looking for something. Like maybe a junkie, looking frantically for money, or maybe his dead friend’s stash. They know about Eric’s struggles, as well as your history. They found prints, too, Mark. Would some of those be yours?”
    The temperature in his face skyrocketed. He was sure he was beet red. All he could manage was a sad nod of his head. Oberon cursed under his breath. “Some of them will be, yeah,” he replied. “But come on, it’s all horseshit! So my prints are there. Okay. That’s not proof I was the one who beat her and tossed the place!”
    â€œLike I stated, I know that,” Oberon replied calmly. “But they have enough to hold you, if only for twenty-four hours. And, Mark, they’re very intent on doing so. The only thing I could do was call in an old marker and ask them to let me take you downtown and have you booked. That way, I know for sure you won’t be put anywhere you’re not supposed to be. You know what happens to Police that go inside. Even ex-Police.”
    Oh yeah, he did. He’d heard the stories. Every cop knew those stories. “Thanks for standing for me, Obie. I’ll find some way to pay you back.”
    â€œYou can pay me back by staying out of my quickly turning white hair,” Oberon said as he put Mallen in the back of his car and shut the door.
    His mind raced. Panic was firmly in place now. The Need was already awake, crying for its needle. He was going away for at least a day. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing, whispered the quiet voice inside once again. He found himself not disagreeing with that voice as much as he thought he would. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was the real bottom of the well. He had to admit, his crash-out appeared pretty fucking complete.
    Oberon got behind the wheel. Started up the sedan. “You were a great Police back in the day, Mark,” he said quietly. No masking the disappointment there.
    Mallen thought