Page 3 of Hart of Darkness
I climbed down the steps of the wooden porch, scanning the area. The tall and dense oak tree in the yard kept the home semi-private from the neighbors across the street.
Instead of heading to my car in the driveway, I walked down the brick path from the house to the sidewalk. I spied Norton staggering toward me with what looked to be a gun in his hands.
My pulse picked up speed. A drunk with a gun wasn’t a good sign.
I could have darted back in the house, but then Norton would have made a scene and woken the neighbors, who weren’t all that thrilled about having a shelter nearby. It was best if I attacked the situation head-on.
The good news was the gun was at his side.
I backtracked until I was in my driveway. If he came onto my property, then I had a leg to stand on if I had to use force.
He stopped at my mailbox.
I raised my hands in the air as if in surrender.
The one streetlight stood tall between the shelter and the vacant house next door, giving me the light I needed to see that Norton’s eyes were glossy.
“I want to see Angel.” He slurred his words.
My pulse rarely ticked higher than sixty-five beats per minute unless I had a lead on Grace. But a skinny, gaunt drunk with a gun was rather terrifying. The liquor oozed off him in waves.
“What makes you think she’s here?” I asked, even though I had an idea.
He cocked his scruffy head, stumbling closer. “I followed her this morning.”
Against my wishes, Angel, one of my guests, had gone back to her house to get some clothes. I’d counseled her that it wasn’t a good idea, but I couldn’t stop her. She’d said Norton always left for work at dawn so he wouldn’t be home.
I lowered one arm and stretched out the other as I inched two steps closer. “Hand me the gun, Norton. You’re not a killer.” I didn’t know that for sure. I knew he’d beaten Angel until she was black and blue.
His hand began to shake more as he swayed before he lost his footing on the curb. I lunged at him, more to catch the gun than him. Once the twenty-two was safely in my hands, I tucked it in the back of my jeans, quietly blowing out a breath, relieved that neither one of us had gotten shot.
Sweat trickled down Norton’s temple as he stared at me with glossy eyes, reminding me of my old man and how he’d done wild things when the liquor overpowered his senses. One time, he’d stumbled into the kitchen with a steak knife pointed at me. Luckily, a chair had saved me that night during dinner.
“Man, get clean,” I said. “Take a shower. Get off the alcohol. If you want, I can give you an address where you could get help.” Manny, a guy I’d met from checking shelters around the city for Grace, would take Norton in. He had a sore spot for alcoholics since he had been one himself. Now he gave his time, effort, and money to helping men like Norton.
Norton pivoted on his heel, staggered, then darted down the street.
Rafe cleared his throat behind me.
I handed the gun to Rafe. “I would like to say he’s harmless, but I’m not sure.”
“Never assume, dude,” Rafe said.
I marched up to my car, my pulse slowing. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I suggest you call in Josh. Norton will be back.” I was certain about that. He’d been a pain in the butt the last two nights, and if he showed up with a gun again, we were in for some trouble.
