[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.They didn t know& not like Brandon did.Not like any cop did.The scenarios, more graphic, more sick each time, played like anendless porn loop in his head. ALL OR NOTHING 219There was really only one way to turn it off.For the first time in days he was alone.No time like thepresent.Edith was off to wrangle Dian.When she d come out tosee what all the commotion was about, they d dodged the issue.He d mumbled something vaguely coherent about new evidencethe cops needed Nicky to look at.No sense in getting her freakedout about Nicky s gay bondage cyber life.Brandon convincedthe detective who d showed up to keep the newest developmentclose to the vest, interview Nicky downtown and take the hearseto the police lot for processing.After Brandon dredged up thefew details of who he d seen in the neighborhood that morningthat group headed off.Nicky would be tied up at the station fora while, tracking down the pictures on the net.Then Edith started in on half-a-dozen things, like more flyers,meeting Dian and talking with the rabbi again.The moment hisstepmom started in with her plans, he seized the opportunity.Brandon begged off of accompanying her with the excuse ofnot having slept much.Not that it was a lie, but when she tookoff with the van Brandon didn t go back to bed.Brandon hadn t expected to have this much free time thissoon, but he could manage.He d started planning anyway, sincethe day Nicky got the first set of photos.He knew then therewasn t anything to be done.This whole thing screamed ofrevenge cold, bloody business and nothing Brandon could dowould change the outcome.A few things were left undone, butthey d sort themselves out.Might as well deal with it sooner thanlater.But not here.Brandon didn t want to do that to Nicky.Doing it in someone shouse was anger and hate for that person: screaming you ll be sosorry in a big messy statement.The childish, last ditch effort tosay I told you so.This wasn t that.He didn t hate anyone.Well,yeah, one amorphous phantasm who stalked his daughter inBrandon s dreams& did horrible things.Even if they caught himthere wasn t enough hell in the system to make it right.And allthe statistics said they d never find the guy who did it or Shayna 220 James Buchananin any recognizable form.Even with the cold, well, Vegas sat inthe desert with half starved coyotes and other scavengers.It washopeless.Brandon just didn t want to keep putting one boot infront of the other.No, he needed to go somewhere.Somewhere away.There wasa ton of away in Vegas.Dingy dives, low rent hotels, but thosemeant some schmuck he didn t even know would be left with theaftermath.What seemed acceptable: several hundred miles ofdesert he could be with Shayna then.Leave a note at Nicky s,leave a vehicle on the side of the road, eventually someone wouldfind him.If he got going now, Brandon figured he had a good coupleof hours. Course, he was kinda stuck.Edith copped the minivanfor her run to Green Valley he hadn t really even paid attentionto what his stepmother had outlined for her day.Nicky drove thehearse to the station so the technicians could process the hoodfor fingerprints and had mumbled something about a car washwhen he was done.The whole not having wheels threw a monkey wrench intothe do it now part of things.It took another few mouthfuls before the solution hit.Hisbike& Nicky s bike.Nicky kept it in the garage.So where the fuckdid he leave the spare keys? Everyone had spare keys.Kitchendrawers, desk drawers& they d be somewhere accessible.IfBrandon s police training made him an expert at anything, it wasfiguring out where people stashed shit.That would work.Course it would leave Nicky sans bike;crime scene impound and all.Brandon could fix that, too.It dtake awhile for probate, but a note and the keys to Brandon sHarley, that d be fair.His will on file with the department lefteverything to Shayna in care of his dad.And since Shayna wasgone he knew she was gone then what little he left would beturned over to his dad.If he left a note, Edith would see thatNicky got it.Brandon headed through the house to the computer room.Nicky had all sorts of office supplies there.When he stepped into ALL OR NOTHING 221the room, it hit hard again.Shayna had slept here.Her clothesstill packed in the suitcase pushed into the corner, Brandon couldsmell them& bubble gum lip-gloss.His breath caught up in hischest, pushed against his ribs like a fist.Brandon rubbed his eyewith his wrist as he dug out a sheet of printer paper and snaggeda pen.Goddamn, how to say it? Simple.It wasn t like there was a tonof reasons, he didn t need to say sorry or explain.Notes rarelydid more than give the family more questions that couldn t beanswered.Brandon tried about three different starts, crumplingeach failure and tossing it.Finally, he settled on the bare minimum.Edith, make sure Nicky gets my Harley.He folded the paper and jammed it in an envelope beforescrawling Edith s name on the front.Then Brandon pushed backfrom the desk, dropping the envelope on Nicky s keyboard ashe stood.Quickly he shook down the room& no keys for thebike there.Out the door, down the short hall and into Nicky sbedroom, Brandon knelt down next to his own duffle.At the bottom he found what he needed.Not the keys, butthe other component: his Sig Sauer.Too bad his piece d wind upslated for disposal after this.Most weapons used in a crime weredestroyed and technically what Brandon contemplated equaleda form of homicide.Since Nicky didn t like guns much, therewasn t anyone who d want it after him.Brandon checked the clip,round and safety.Then he tucked it in the front waistband of hisjeans.Not the most comfortable way to ride a crotch rocket.Itwould royally fuck up his plans, though, to be pulled over if someguy on patrol noticed the butt end of the Sig sticking out of theback of his shorts.Now he needed the keys.All the reasonable, and unreasonable,places for Nicky s keys to hide got a thorough searching: bedroom,living room and kitchen.Shit, Brandon even tossed the bath.No keys.Brandon dropped down on the coffee table, using itas a chair.He ran one hand through his hair as he adjusted theweapon in his waistband and tucked his T-shirt behind the metal;right against his belly, not the most comfortable place to pack 222 James Buchananheat.Dropping his hands between his knees, Brandon blew out anexasperated breath.Where the fuck did Nicky keep his goddamnspare keys? The last time he remembered seeing Nicky with themwas in the kitchen.Shit, he must have missed them.It was thelogical place.Back door, garage was back there.He headed backinto the kitchen and slowly, methodically began re-searching thedrawers.About the fifth one in, the rattle of a key in the back doorfroze Brandon in place.Nicky sauntered through the door. Hey,Brandon, how you holding up? There wasn t half enough time for the cops to have processedthe hearse and put Nicky through a detailed Internet search. You re done quick. Brandon hissed it through a plastered-ongrin as he stood.The drawer stuck out of the cabinet and hetried to bump it back in with his hip.Since crap still stuck outeverywhere from his rifling, the draw lodged about a third of theway closed. Yeah, it s New Year s Day. Seeming not to notice, Nickyshucked his duster and tossed it across the back of a chair. Nota lot of technicians on staff.I gave a statement.They attemptedto get fingerprints off Querida.Pointed them at a few websitesI recognized stuff from [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl odbijak.htw.pl
.They didn t know& not like Brandon did.Not like any cop did.The scenarios, more graphic, more sick each time, played like anendless porn loop in his head. ALL OR NOTHING 219There was really only one way to turn it off.For the first time in days he was alone.No time like thepresent.Edith was off to wrangle Dian.When she d come out tosee what all the commotion was about, they d dodged the issue.He d mumbled something vaguely coherent about new evidencethe cops needed Nicky to look at.No sense in getting her freakedout about Nicky s gay bondage cyber life.Brandon convincedthe detective who d showed up to keep the newest developmentclose to the vest, interview Nicky downtown and take the hearseto the police lot for processing.After Brandon dredged up thefew details of who he d seen in the neighborhood that morningthat group headed off.Nicky would be tied up at the station fora while, tracking down the pictures on the net.Then Edith started in on half-a-dozen things, like more flyers,meeting Dian and talking with the rabbi again.The moment hisstepmom started in with her plans, he seized the opportunity.Brandon begged off of accompanying her with the excuse ofnot having slept much.Not that it was a lie, but when she tookoff with the van Brandon didn t go back to bed.Brandon hadn t expected to have this much free time thissoon, but he could manage.He d started planning anyway, sincethe day Nicky got the first set of photos.He knew then therewasn t anything to be done.This whole thing screamed ofrevenge cold, bloody business and nothing Brandon could dowould change the outcome.A few things were left undone, butthey d sort themselves out.Might as well deal with it sooner thanlater.But not here.Brandon didn t want to do that to Nicky.Doing it in someone shouse was anger and hate for that person: screaming you ll be sosorry in a big messy statement.The childish, last ditch effort tosay I told you so.This wasn t that.He didn t hate anyone.Well,yeah, one amorphous phantasm who stalked his daughter inBrandon s dreams& did horrible things.Even if they caught himthere wasn t enough hell in the system to make it right.And allthe statistics said they d never find the guy who did it or Shayna 220 James Buchananin any recognizable form.Even with the cold, well, Vegas sat inthe desert with half starved coyotes and other scavengers.It washopeless.Brandon just didn t want to keep putting one boot infront of the other.No, he needed to go somewhere.Somewhere away.There wasa ton of away in Vegas.Dingy dives, low rent hotels, but thosemeant some schmuck he didn t even know would be left with theaftermath.What seemed acceptable: several hundred miles ofdesert he could be with Shayna then.Leave a note at Nicky s,leave a vehicle on the side of the road, eventually someone wouldfind him.If he got going now, Brandon figured he had a good coupleof hours. Course, he was kinda stuck.Edith copped the minivanfor her run to Green Valley he hadn t really even paid attentionto what his stepmother had outlined for her day.Nicky drove thehearse to the station so the technicians could process the hoodfor fingerprints and had mumbled something about a car washwhen he was done.The whole not having wheels threw a monkey wrench intothe do it now part of things.It took another few mouthfuls before the solution hit.Hisbike& Nicky s bike.Nicky kept it in the garage.So where the fuckdid he leave the spare keys? Everyone had spare keys.Kitchendrawers, desk drawers& they d be somewhere accessible.IfBrandon s police training made him an expert at anything, it wasfiguring out where people stashed shit.That would work.Course it would leave Nicky sans bike;crime scene impound and all.Brandon could fix that, too.It dtake awhile for probate, but a note and the keys to Brandon sHarley, that d be fair.His will on file with the department lefteverything to Shayna in care of his dad.And since Shayna wasgone he knew she was gone then what little he left would beturned over to his dad.If he left a note, Edith would see thatNicky got it.Brandon headed through the house to the computer room.Nicky had all sorts of office supplies there.When he stepped into ALL OR NOTHING 221the room, it hit hard again.Shayna had slept here.Her clothesstill packed in the suitcase pushed into the corner, Brandon couldsmell them& bubble gum lip-gloss.His breath caught up in hischest, pushed against his ribs like a fist.Brandon rubbed his eyewith his wrist as he dug out a sheet of printer paper and snaggeda pen.Goddamn, how to say it? Simple.It wasn t like there was a tonof reasons, he didn t need to say sorry or explain.Notes rarelydid more than give the family more questions that couldn t beanswered.Brandon tried about three different starts, crumplingeach failure and tossing it.Finally, he settled on the bare minimum.Edith, make sure Nicky gets my Harley.He folded the paper and jammed it in an envelope beforescrawling Edith s name on the front.Then Brandon pushed backfrom the desk, dropping the envelope on Nicky s keyboard ashe stood.Quickly he shook down the room& no keys for thebike there.Out the door, down the short hall and into Nicky sbedroom, Brandon knelt down next to his own duffle.At the bottom he found what he needed.Not the keys, butthe other component: his Sig Sauer.Too bad his piece d wind upslated for disposal after this.Most weapons used in a crime weredestroyed and technically what Brandon contemplated equaleda form of homicide.Since Nicky didn t like guns much, therewasn t anyone who d want it after him.Brandon checked the clip,round and safety.Then he tucked it in the front waistband of hisjeans.Not the most comfortable way to ride a crotch rocket.Itwould royally fuck up his plans, though, to be pulled over if someguy on patrol noticed the butt end of the Sig sticking out of theback of his shorts.Now he needed the keys.All the reasonable, and unreasonable,places for Nicky s keys to hide got a thorough searching: bedroom,living room and kitchen.Shit, Brandon even tossed the bath.No keys.Brandon dropped down on the coffee table, using itas a chair.He ran one hand through his hair as he adjusted theweapon in his waistband and tucked his T-shirt behind the metal;right against his belly, not the most comfortable place to pack 222 James Buchananheat.Dropping his hands between his knees, Brandon blew out anexasperated breath.Where the fuck did Nicky keep his goddamnspare keys? The last time he remembered seeing Nicky with themwas in the kitchen.Shit, he must have missed them.It was thelogical place.Back door, garage was back there.He headed backinto the kitchen and slowly, methodically began re-searching thedrawers.About the fifth one in, the rattle of a key in the back doorfroze Brandon in place.Nicky sauntered through the door. Hey,Brandon, how you holding up? There wasn t half enough time for the cops to have processedthe hearse and put Nicky through a detailed Internet search. You re done quick. Brandon hissed it through a plastered-ongrin as he stood.The drawer stuck out of the cabinet and hetried to bump it back in with his hip.Since crap still stuck outeverywhere from his rifling, the draw lodged about a third of theway closed. Yeah, it s New Year s Day. Seeming not to notice, Nickyshucked his duster and tossed it across the back of a chair. Nota lot of technicians on staff.I gave a statement.They attemptedto get fingerprints off Querida.Pointed them at a few websitesI recognized stuff from [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]