At two.
This man who loved his son. Who was simply trying to protect him.
From her.
Why, he said, standing at the top of that sandpit. Why?
Because anger is as blind as love, and she gave me both.
* * *
I will tell you that a drought took hold of L.A. and turned the brush in the Malibu hills to kindling. That twenty-million-dollar homes went up in smoke. That the drought dried up half the Salton Sea and sucked the water right out of that dump, and that a man disposing of his GE washing machine saw the body wrapped around an old engine casing.
I will tell you that he was ID’d and the bullet in his heart identified as a Walther .45—the kind security guards are partial to, and that a mother came forward and said she’d seen him being coerced into a car near her son’s school by another man.
I will tell you that the wheels of justice were grinding and turning and rolling inexorably toward me.
I will tell you that I am not liked much by the police officers I once worked with, but there is a code that is sometimes thick as blood. That makes an ex-partner whom you almost took down with you get hold of bank records so you might know where a Kelly Marcel has been using her VISA card.
I will tell you that there’s a motel somewhat south of La Jolla where the down-and-out pay by the week.
I will tell you that I drove there.
That I saw her drop the boy at his grandmother’s, who lived in a trailer park by the sea.
That the boyfriend took off for parts unknown.
That it’s down to her.
I will tell you that I sit in a dark motel room.
That I’ve pulled the shades down tight so she won’t see me when she walks in. So she’ll be sure to turn away from me to switch on the light.
I will tell you that I hear her now, the slam of her car door, the crunch of gravel leading up to her door.
I will tell you that my Walther .45 has two bullets in it. Two.
I will tell you the door is opening.
I will tell you that finally and at last the dark no longer scares me, that there is a peace more comforting than anger.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Who do I say this to?
This I won’t tell you.
I won’t.
* * * * *
Author Biography
James Siegel is the New York Times bestselling author of Derailed and Detour. His first thriller, Epitaph, was nominated for a Shamus Award as best first novel. Derailed, with Clive Owen and Jennifer Aniston, was released in 2005 as a major motion picture.
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ISBN-13: 9781488094415
Empathy
Copyright © 2006 By James Siegel
First published as part of an anthology of works entitled Thriller in 2006.
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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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