wouldn’t come. It never came like before. He remembered the sensation of drifting off, the steady pull of exhaustion dragging him down into a soft slumber. He would awake sometimes in the early-morning hours in slight surprise at having fallen asleep without realizing it.
But those nights were gone.
What he had now was waiting. The slipstream of time slowing to a crawl, the minutes stretching into hours, his mind and body helpless with the compulsion to check the clock constantly.
He stared up at the hotel ceiling, longing for a drink. Something powerful. Several pulls of whiskey would do the trick. But he didn’t want to get drunk, and passing out wasn’t the same as sleeping; it was similar, but without the rest. He tried the breathing exercises the doctor had taught him. Inhale, hold, exhale slowly and count to ten, until all the air was out. Repeat. Think of the states and their capitals. Retrace the roads he had driven on that day, see the landscape in reverse, strive to make it all the way back to where he had left from.
Liam sighed and rolled over, trying to keep his eyelids closed. He pictured Dani standing at the bar. She was still beautiful, just as he remembered. God, he hadn’t thought of her in years. He wondered if she was married. He couldn’t see how she would be single, but if there was a man in the picture, wouldn’t he be here with her for support? He could still feel the warmth of her hand in his own. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt for some time, the touch of another. Liam closed his fist lightly, allowing the illusion to continue. He slipped toward the edge of sleep . . . and saw the black eye of the gun barrel.
His eyelids flew open and he sucked in a breath, his heart speeding up from a plodding walk to a sprint in less than a second. His brow furrowed, breath shuddering within his chest, the air hot as sweat broke out over his body. He clenched his eyes shut and forced away the sound of the gunshot ringing in his ears.
CHAPTER 4
The sound of thunder woke him.
Liam opened his eyes to the surrounding hotel room, battled the immediate confusion of where he was, and let the memory of the day before settle over him. He turned his head to look at the clock: 6:15 . The last time he saw the clock it was 3:10. Three hours of sleep. He inhaled and then breathed out. It would have to do.
He drank two cups of coffee in the little kitchenette off the hotel lobby and gradually began to feel like he was awake. His stomach was an aching, flaccid sac that cried out for food. He managed to choke down three hard-boiled eggs and a slice of toast, promising himself that he would make more of an effort to eat regularly. If he couldn’t sleep, he’d at least give himself fuel to keep moving.
The morning was cooler than the previous day. The sky was bruised in the east above the hulking bluffs, a few lacerations of sunlight leaking through mottled clouds as they attempted to close the wounds fully, with the occasional sound of thunder.
As he snapped the door of his truck shut, intent on taking care of his brother’s final arrangements, Liam realized he had no idea where Allen and Suzie banked, invested, or lawyered. He sat still behind the steering wheel before drawing out his phone and searching the online Tallston directory for lawyers. There were three in town. Luckily, he picked the correct one on the first try. The secretary who answered said that without ID she couldn’t say whether or not his brother and sister-in-law did business with them, but if he’d stop by, the owner would be happy to speak with him.
Liam hung up and drove to the north end of town, turning down two wrong streets before he saw the squat brick building with Fenton Law Office on its front. The reception area was small but comfortable, the walls a cool green. A stern-faced woman in a business suit sat behind a counter and studied Liam as she punched an intercom button on her phone and murmured something into the headset
But those nights were gone.
What he had now was waiting. The slipstream of time slowing to a crawl, the minutes stretching into hours, his mind and body helpless with the compulsion to check the clock constantly.
He stared up at the hotel ceiling, longing for a drink. Something powerful. Several pulls of whiskey would do the trick. But he didn’t want to get drunk, and passing out wasn’t the same as sleeping; it was similar, but without the rest. He tried the breathing exercises the doctor had taught him. Inhale, hold, exhale slowly and count to ten, until all the air was out. Repeat. Think of the states and their capitals. Retrace the roads he had driven on that day, see the landscape in reverse, strive to make it all the way back to where he had left from.
Liam sighed and rolled over, trying to keep his eyelids closed. He pictured Dani standing at the bar. She was still beautiful, just as he remembered. God, he hadn’t thought of her in years. He wondered if she was married. He couldn’t see how she would be single, but if there was a man in the picture, wouldn’t he be here with her for support? He could still feel the warmth of her hand in his own. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt for some time, the touch of another. Liam closed his fist lightly, allowing the illusion to continue. He slipped toward the edge of sleep . . . and saw the black eye of the gun barrel.
His eyelids flew open and he sucked in a breath, his heart speeding up from a plodding walk to a sprint in less than a second. His brow furrowed, breath shuddering within his chest, the air hot as sweat broke out over his body. He clenched his eyes shut and forced away the sound of the gunshot ringing in his ears.
CHAPTER 4
The sound of thunder woke him.
Liam opened his eyes to the surrounding hotel room, battled the immediate confusion of where he was, and let the memory of the day before settle over him. He turned his head to look at the clock: 6:15 . The last time he saw the clock it was 3:10. Three hours of sleep. He inhaled and then breathed out. It would have to do.
He drank two cups of coffee in the little kitchenette off the hotel lobby and gradually began to feel like he was awake. His stomach was an aching, flaccid sac that cried out for food. He managed to choke down three hard-boiled eggs and a slice of toast, promising himself that he would make more of an effort to eat regularly. If he couldn’t sleep, he’d at least give himself fuel to keep moving.
The morning was cooler than the previous day. The sky was bruised in the east above the hulking bluffs, a few lacerations of sunlight leaking through mottled clouds as they attempted to close the wounds fully, with the occasional sound of thunder.
As he snapped the door of his truck shut, intent on taking care of his brother’s final arrangements, Liam realized he had no idea where Allen and Suzie banked, invested, or lawyered. He sat still behind the steering wheel before drawing out his phone and searching the online Tallston directory for lawyers. There were three in town. Luckily, he picked the correct one on the first try. The secretary who answered said that without ID she couldn’t say whether or not his brother and sister-in-law did business with them, but if he’d stop by, the owner would be happy to speak with him.
Liam hung up and drove to the north end of town, turning down two wrong streets before he saw the squat brick building with Fenton Law Office on its front. The reception area was small but comfortable, the walls a cool green. A stern-faced woman in a business suit sat behind a counter and studied Liam as she punched an intercom button on her phone and murmured something into the headset
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