Page 151 of Things We Hide from the Light
“I have to go.”
“Every thirty minutes. Dinner tonight,” he said.
“Fine. But you’d better bring me something useful and the food better be good.”
“Don’t get involved. Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself,” he warned.
“I’m not an amateur, Nash. Now leave me alone.”
“Don’t doanything to draw attention to yourself,” I said, mimicking Nash. I was in the same spot, just one hour morebored and more uncomfortable. I’d texted the man twice with his stupid, required proof of life, selfies with the middle finger. He’d responded with pictures of Piper. Baker had yet to show his face again. And my ass was asleep.
I was starting to wonder if the thrill of the hunt was only exciting because the rest of the job was so damn boring by comparison. Was it really worth it?
I thought about the position opening up in the company’s High Net Assets department. Bigger risk, bigger reward, bigger thrill. But did Ireallywant to dedicate the rest of my working life to chasing the thrill? On the other hand, the idea of supervisory work gave me the heebie-jeebies. All those people needing to be managed? Ugh.
But what else could I do? What else would I be good at?
Those were questions that had to wait for another day, because a man in leather and denim carrying a bouquet of grocery store flowers strolled up onto the row home stoop like he owned the place.
Apparently he did, because he produced a key and opened the front door.
I sat up straighter and grabbed my binoculars just as Wendell Baker’s brother headed inside.
“Oh shit. This isn’t good.”
The shouting started shortly after that.
Okay. This wasn’t great. But as long as they kept it verbal—
The brother exited his house…through the front window…which was closed.
“Fuck.” I groaned and reached for my phone as glass shattered.
Buck-naked Wendell Baker stomped out the front door. A woman in a rock band T-shirt and nothing else appeared behind him and started screaming. The leather and denim-clad brother got to his feet in time to take a right cross to the jaw.
“911. What’s your emergency?”
“This is Lina Solavita. I’m an investigator for Pritzger Insurance. There’s a naked man assaulting someone on the sidewalk.” I gave the dispatcher the address, and as she repeated it back to me, the woman vaulted over the railing onto Baker’s back and got an arm around his throat. He bucked forward trying to unseat his attacker, which unfortunately afforded me a front row seat to view both of their butts.
“Now there’s a woman assaulting the naked man.”
“I have two units in the area responding,” the dispatcher said. “Is the woman naked too?”
“She’s wearing a Whitesnake T-shirt and nothing else.”
“Huh. Good band.”
The brother got to his feet again and rammed his shoulder into Baker’s gut, driving the man back against the concrete steps. I thought of Nash’s bruised jaw and Knox’s black eye and wondered if all brothers fought like this.
“Does anyone have any weapons?” the dispatcher asked.
“None that I can see. Naked guy definitely didn’t come armed.”
The brothers broke apart and Whitesnake lady slithered off Baker’s back. The brother reached behind his back and produced a large knife.
“Shit,” I muttered. “Now there’s a knife in play.”
Just then, two kids exited the house next door and stood transfixed by the scene before them.
