Читать книгу Visiting Darkness - Celeste Prater - Страница 12

Chapter 7

On a hard grunt, Max shoved the nightstand to the side and ran his finger over a quarter-sized scorch mark close to the leg of the headboard. He at once realized it wasn’t one of the natural wood knots scattered across the wall. It didn’t swirl as much as blast outward. His mind kicked into “find the reality” mode.

One of the kids playing with Mary’s lighter or a candle toppling over during a romantic romp took front and center explanation. He noticed small dings, scratches, and scuffs on the paneling, but they were nothing outside the normal wear and tear of every household in America. This one stood out in its oddness. He started to rise, yet everything inside of him screamed to stand down.

“This is stupid, Browning.”

Max captured an image of the odd anomaly and shoved the phone back inside his pocket.

“You’re losing it. Fucking losing it.”

Just as fast as the chastisement, his eyes narrowed, and he focused on the peculiar scorch with a new perspective.

Well, shit. You’re getting slow, old man.

He leaped to his feet and scanned the room.

“Has Preston Sinclair been inside here?” he whispered. “How else would he know to ask about a mark?” Max’s heart started up a wild thump as he paced the room.

“Could he be the outside link for Adler? Is this how he recruits his followers? Are they playing with me now? But why?” All he was sure about was the phone call he planned to make when he returned to the office.

Head shaking at the strange turn of events, Max readjusted the nightstand and left the bedroom with a disquieted sensation owning his gut. By the time he reached the kitchen, he confirmed his decision not to mention it to Jason. It was all speculation at this point, and the poor guy had enough on his shoulders. Max noticed the plate missing from the table, and so was Jason. He found him in the living room, peeking out the window and releasing a soft whistle.

“Damn, it looks like they’re multiplying.”

“Are they in the yard?”

“Not mine, but the next-door neighbors. Both sides and halfway up. Look at this shit. They’re even standing in Sheila’s flowerbeds. Asses.”

“Driveways blocked?”

“Yes.”

Max tapped seven on his phone. “Sean, I’m at Jason Galesh’s house. Send two squads out here to clear the cul-de-sac of reporters. Street’s turned into a damn circus. Have them tell the horde a trespassing and possible destruction of property call came in so everyone must go. Hold up.” He approached the window and took a few snaps of the encroachers.

“Sent you some proof. Yeah, put a barrier at the end of the street. If they want to stick around, they’ll have to line up down the block or walk into fast traffic to get a bead on the house…Yes, the heavy-duty ones. ID verification of homeowners required to allow access. I’m hoping the crews grow bored and find someone else to pester…Thanks. Later.” He looked up to find a puzzled expression rocking Jason’s puss.

“What? Something else happen?”

“No, why are you doing this for us?”

Max relaxed his shoulders and softened his voice. “You don’t deserve any of this fallout from Mary’s actions. Running interference is the least I can do. I need to leave, though. Got another call. The units should arrive in fifteen. You good?”

“Yeah, if they don’t bust down the door next. Did you find what you needed?”

“Nothing of hers stuck out as abnormal. I won’t give up, though. I appreciate you letting me look around.”

“No problem. Thank you.”

Max hesitated at the door and turned to catch Jason’s worried eyes. “I want to pass on some advice. You open for it?”

“Sure.”

“Attorney’s will bombard you to offer protection.”

“Protect me?”

“Yes, the families of the victims will have similar visits. They’ll convince them to go after the grocery store for compensation. Odds it will include you too.”

Gray eyes widened. “Me?”

“Yeah, they’ll want to turn their grief into vindication. Most times, they get to face a perpetrator in court, listen to the evidence, and hear a sentence handed down. Not in this case, so their frustration will only grow. You’ll be Mary’s substitute. Expect civil suits.”

Jason’s buried anger shot forward and replaced the bewilderment. It was long overdue.

“Goddamn it. Haven’t I suffered enough?”

“They won’t look at it that way. Research the lawyers contacting you. Don’t pick one unless their firm’s handled situations like this before and won. If asked for money, send them packing. The good ones offer pro bono on a publicity bonanza case. If you’re contacted by Dwight Sanders, return his call.” Max’s hand dropped from the knob.

“Better yet, contact him and give him my name. He’s in the book. The man’s very smart and will make sure you come out looking sympathetic to the families and the public.”

“I am sympathetic. I hate what she did.”

“I know you are, but this city needs to see it—on your face and in your eyes. You’ll have to apologize in public to the victims’ families. Listen, Jason. You didn’t do a damn thing wrong, but you’ll have to separate yourself from her, otherwise it remains guilt by association. Don’t make excuses for her, either, or face angering them more.”

Jason’s shoulders dropped. “Got it. They don’t know a damn thing about me. I won’t hesitate to let the families know I’m suffering for them, as well. You’re right. I need some help.”

He reached out, and Max shook his hand again.

“Appreciate everything you’ve done, Max. I can’t seem to say it enough.”

“Thank me by not giving up. The pain will dull. Sounds ridiculous now, but it will. Take care, Jason.”

“You too, Max.”

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