[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

The job. Right. Jack might ve been certain, but I
wasn t. I wasn't sure I had it in me to be a cop anymore.
The truth was, I couldn t pursue this& thing, as a cop. It
wasn t like you could arrest a spirit. I had to find another
way, and I had to find it fast.
The Hanged Man's Ghost - 137
Chapter Twelve: Silver Bells
The city was dusted with snow and green wreaths.
Lights were strung along lamp posts and in shop
windows. Christmas music blared over loudspeakers and
shop radios and outside chimed the Salvation Army
bells. There was an overall sense of cheer in the cold air.
And, as always when the holidays rolled around,
crime went up.
Not that there was anything I could do about it. My
career was a mess, to put it in the simplest terms. Three
months in the mental ward, a couple weeks in jail, and
then another month recovering from my injuries& it was
a long time to be gone. Long time to think too. Other
than the drinks I d had with Jack, I d been sober for
awhile now.
Hadn t managed to kick smoking though.
Blowing smoke, be it nicotine laden or not, with
every breath into the frigid air, I stood outside my
parents house watching the movers bring in boxes of
my things. I d decided to sublet my apartment out for
the remainder of my lease..
It felt more than a bit weird to be moving back in
with my parents, but I hadn t been given much choice in
the matter. I couldn't afford to keep my apartment, and I
wasn't going to ask my siblings to keep paying for the
damn thing while I was out of commission. My hearing
had been moved -- understandably -- but I didn't see it
going well in consideration of everything that had
happened. I couldn't see the CPD putting me back on the
force with a long stay in the mental hospital under my
belt. Being suspected of murder didn't help either. The
only benefit from all of my injuries these past few
months was silence. No one had asked me about my
The Hanged Man's Ghost - 138
plans. Everyone was staying at a distance.
The only problem with that was it made it hard for
me to remain pissed off about the Michael situation. I
was--how could I not be?--but I did understand on an
academic level their reasons.
As for the spirit, he hadn t shown his face since he
killed Reggie. Poor pizza boy. There wasn t a damn
thing I could do for the kid either. Add that to the
muddle of what happened at the prison. If I was right,
Michael had intervened and saved my ass from that
thing. Which begged a whole lot of questions I couldn t
answer.
I had a lot of questions and it was past time to find
someone who could answer some of them. I still had
that psychic s address, and I intended to see her. As
soon as my transportation was sorted.
My other reason for being outdoors, other than giving
myself cancer and watching the muscular moving guys,
was that Connor had called ahead with the promise of
surprise. Seeing as I m the kind of person who would x-
ray his gifts before Christmas, given the opportunity, I
decided to speed things up and wait outside for him.
Connor pulled up half a cigarette after my first in his
over-compensation of a truck. Not that Connor had
anything to compensate for -- unless you counted his
total lack of dancing ability something a giant truck
could compensate for. His truck was black, chrome, and
he loved the damn thing much in the way I d loved my
poor mangled motorcycle.
Which until that moment had been MIA.
I put out my cigarette and tossed the butt into the
trashcan. "Is that& "
Connor got out of his truck. "Ta-da." He gestured at
the restored bike in the truck bed.
The Hanged Man's Ghost - 139
"My baby!" I scrambled over the side of his truck and
into the bed, looking her over. "She looks great." She
looked better than she had before her run in with a truck.
The chrome was actually shiny, there was absolutely no
duct tape on the gas tank, and the exhaust pipe wasn't
dented to hell or riddled with holes.
"The frame was still okay, but they had to replace a
bunch of stuff." Connor leaned against the side of the
truck, grinning. "You like the paint?"
"I do." It was black; there wasn t anything not to like
about it. A matching black helmet was sitting on the
back. A retro number with goggles.
"My mechanic was very curious about where you
found this thing. He said it was like the Frankenstein of
Harleys."
I grinned. "Bought it off a junkyard." Frankenstein
she might be, but she had power, performance, and no
longer looked like she d fall apart at the snap of your
fingers. "I think most of her is a military model, but you
know I don t care about the model."
"I know. Come on, let s get her down from there." He
walked around to the back of his truck and pulled down
the tail gate. "Shove the ramp over here."
The metal ramp took up what space was not taken up
by my bike. I squeezed behind it, pressed against the cab
of the truck and pushed it down the hard plastic bed
protector with a kick.
"Heavy sonofabitch." I muttered, gaining traction
under it with my hands and pushing it to the edge of the
tail gate. Connor grabbed the edge and eased it to the
ground before jumping into the back with me.
"We ll wheel her down slow. I d rather not see her
tumble."
"You and me both."
The Hanged Man's Ghost - 140
It was a struggle at first, but we got her down with
only minimal swearing and panting. Of course, the
moment I had her on pavement&
"Where are the keys?"
Connor rolled his eyes. "You re impossible." He
pulled the key ring from his pocket and tossed it to me.
"Don t tell Da."
"Why?"
"Because he ll kill me. Anyway, I ll see you at dinner
tomorrow night."
"See you then."
It was probably for the best if Da didn t know
Connor had my bike fixed. Though I was certain the
reason was guilt -- and therefore, I was more than
willing to forgive my brother. It was still awesome.
I watched Connor pull away and glanced back at the
house. My mother was inside, so there was no need for
me to stay and watch the movers.
I got on my bike and started up the engine.
Sounded a lot better. Less like a dying cat. I put on
the helmet and goggles, dug my gloves out of my jacket,
and tucked my scarf more tightly around my neck,
zipping the jacket up around it.
Time for a ride. My leg might ache like hell after, I
was still limping along, but it would be worth it.
***
Knowing full well that Jack was not working today, I
went to visit. Partially to show off my bike and mostly
to check in on him. I called ahead, and he was waiting
outside his apartment building as I parked.
I pulled off the helmet and goggles and smiled. "She [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

zanotowane.pl

doc.pisz.pl

pdf.pisz.pl

razem.keep.pl