Page 77 of The Quiet Witness

If only he could answer that.

The screen screamed Nokia. Precious seconds, which felt like an hour later, he was able to tick in the number from memory.

It rang but once before Emilio picked up. “Hola Lucien! What you need me for at this late hour?”

Twenty four seven in a good mood. He’d have to ask his friend for that secret sometime. After business was… taken care of. The instinctive smile slid off his face, but he forced a level of enthusiasm into his reply. “Hola indeed! I’ve got need for a medical history of a woman.”

“Ahhh, you are dating! I knew it! When you called me for the traffickers you were with her right? Tsk tsk, letting a woman go before a bro.”

Dating… Right, maybe his friend wasn’t so far off his rocks. Only… Lucien didn’t date. He had no need for a woman’s hairs all over his couch, he had Ghost’s if he needed a furry blanket. Add to that the sweet silence his ears had grown accustomed to over the many years of singledom. And yet, he didn’t mind Kate her solos one bit, hadn’t even been mildly irritated when she spread her hairs and blood around, purposefully.

He shook his head, clearing his mind. “Sorry to disappoint hermano. It’s for work.”

“For work.” Emilio grumbled. “Calling me at this hour for work.” A sigh worked its way through the phone. “Tell me the name boss.”

“Kate. Kate Withers.”

The line fell silent. Lucien frowned, checking the phone’s screen. The call was still ongoing. Seconds ticked by before Emilio replied. “So it is true then? Max is on to something isn’t he?” His joyous voice had faded, made room for concern.

So Max had gone and tattled about his very own failures. One more reason to add to the ever growing list of why Kate needed to die. He wasn’t done yet in this world, there was plenty to kill and… plenty to save. Georgia, Isabel, they were all living, breathing testaments to that.

“Don’t worry. It will be remedied. That’s why I have need for her medical files.”

“Dios mio amigo. You sure love living on the edge. If they find out…”

“I know.” Lucien sighed, running a hand over his face. Tired, he’d never been this tired before. He felt as if someone had strapped a stack of weights onto his shoulders, forcing him to run a marathon, one with bloody consequences, if he didn’t get to the finish line first “They won’t find out though.” It wasn’t a threat, not to his oldest friend.

“Right, not from my mouth they won’t. Though what on Earth possessed you to…” Emilio trailed off, knowing full well where his friend’s limits begun and ended. “Never mind. I’ll be able to give you the info soon.”

“Tonight.” Lucien needed to know tonight. For if his suspicion was right, it would be much easier to keep his promise to Kate, for the most part.

“Si, tonight. I’ll get on it right away.”

The line went silent. As silent as the vacant rooms of his house would be, after. He’d need to bring Ghost along with him during assignments. Whether his loyal companion would forgive him only time could tell.

The wheels of his chair creaked as he spun it around, facing the outside world once more, the branches of the pine trees swayed on a phantom wind, a sliver of the moon silver in the starry sky. The vast natural world out there, his tried and true coping mechanism. Wait. He squinted, it couldn’t be. Never once in all these years had he been able to witness it from his house.

A purple shift in the sky, azure blue joined in. Colors intensifying quickly, dancing around the other. Like a careful partner, unwilling to step onto the other’s toes. It was what he’d let slip in front of Kate. She’d shot him one of her rare, bright smiles. ‘Sounds like that Edgar Allan Poe book of yours has delivered, huh.’ Her teasing voice faded.

Enough. It was enough.

There was no sound, other than the tap, tap, tap of his phone, tapping against his chin.

His chair rolled backwards as he shot up. Right, he stared at the mess of sparkling glass, lying in wait to trip up a barefoot Kate.

Dustpan and sweeper it is.

He bent down to his haunches, lifting the chair she’d been sitting on, then his, sweeping beneath to fill his growing collection of sparkling gems. Thank God he wasn’t one to own a lot of furniture. Lucien slowed and watched, transfixed at the brush in his hand. Push too hard and it would fly right over the dustpan, while a slow, gentle hand was best to entrap the small stingers.

Just a gentle push. That’s how he would do it with Kate. If Emilio got back to him, confirming his suspicions, he’d know a way. Painless.

He hoped it wouldn’t last long. The way something as simple and non descript as cleaning material dragged his thoughts right back to the woman trailing in his house.

The Nokia vibrated, he fished the phone out of his pocket, flipping it open to see two words.

Lyme disease.

He was right. He’d expected relief, knowing it opened the lock to which he held the key. All he felt though was disappointment.