Lee Killough - Killer Karma

Then he realized the world had changed. Things looked…translucent. Instead of him fading, the world was. Protest rose in Cole. No, not yet ! One piece of lead still lay in him, the one with Sherrie’s name.

“Imagine that,” the lieutenant said as Hamada found a billfold in one hip pocket and Cole’s cell phone in the coat. “A killer too squeamish to clean out her victim’s pockets.”

Hamada grunted. “More like she reckoned he’d never be found.”

Cole stared at the phone. It still looked in good shape. Hope sparked in him. He leaned down close to Hamada’s ear and strained to put substance into his voice. “See if the phone still works!”

Hamada froze. Cole saw goosebumps rise on his neck.

“Try the phone.”

Hamada just stared at it for several moments, then pushed the power button.

Hope surged higher as the screen lighted. “Play the voice mail messages. My password is 03686.”

Hamada stood, hefting the phone, an inner struggle visible in his eyes.

“Something wrong?” the lieutenant said.

“I reckon I’ll see.” Hamada punched up the menu and went to voice mail. Playing the messages, his expression turned bemused.

“My wife needs to hear those messages,” Cole said. “Call her on your phone and play them for her. Please?”

Hamada looked around…and stared incredulously at him.

“Please call her.”

“What are you looking at?” the lieutenant asked.

Hamada quirked a brow. “Maybe the explanation for a lot of weirdness. Excuse me. I need to make a phone call.”

Cole quickly zipped back to the hospital, to Razor, still standing outside the exam room.

Razor glanced at the others and sidled away from them, lowering his voice. “What’s happened? You’re fading.”

So was Razor. His colors looked washed out and objects behind him showed through as shadows. Cole’s throat tightened. “They’ve found my body. Sara’s, too. And my phone. Hamada’s going to play the voice mail messages for Sherrie. I don’t have much longer here.”

“Cole, I- ” Razor’s voice caught.

Cole’s throat closed completely. Damn. How did the two of them say goodbye? “It’s been fun, huh, partner?” He punched toward Razor’s shoulder.

Razor punched back. “Always a blast.”

Cole zipped home. It looked surreal, turned to layers of colored glass. It felt held-breath tense. Lauren and Holly had arrived. The kids sat together in the livingroom watching Harry Potter , but silent except for Hannah, who squealed at the flying car.

From the doorway, he said softly, “I love you, gang. Have a good life. I’m sorry I won’t be there.”

In the kitchen the women cut up vegetables and tossed them in Sherrie’s big soup pot…working without talking, either. Tiger, lying by Sherrie’s feet at the sink, looked up at him and whined.

Cole bent down to pet him, then stood and wrapped his arms around Sherrie, wishing she could feel him, even if only as a chill. But she showed no reaction.

His chest constricted. “I wish you’d hear me. I screwed up. Me and my obsessiveness screwed up royally. But I didn’t screw around. Not with Sara, not with any other woman… despite what Debra Brewer thinks she saw. There’s only been you. They’ve found- ”

The phone rang.

Joanna answered it. “It’s for you, Sherrie. An Inspector Hamada.”

Sherrie slid out of his arms. He followed her to the phone, chest tight. Not bothering to listen to Hamada’s end of the call, he watched her face. She caught her breath and tension drained from her face. As it did, color faded faster from the glass layers around him.

Sherrie hung up and stood leaning her forehead against the phone.

He reached out to touch her hair, which still had color when almost nothing else did. “You know, I really wanted to grow old with you and watch this wild red hair turn to wild white hair.”

Sherrie lifted her head. Her hand went to her hair…where his hand touched.

The constriction unwound in his chest. She felt him…maybe on some level heard him, too. A sense of lightness filled him. Contented, Cole stepped back, watching her while the world went transparent and disappeared.