Scott Sigler - Nocturnal - A Novel

But this time, the door didn’t close.

Aggie stared, waiting, wondering.

Hillary walked through. No cart this time. No sandwiches. She walked right up to Aggie. She leaned in close. He forced himself not to flinch away, not that there was anywhere he could go. She was his only hope.

She sniffed him. She smiled, showing her missing teeth.

“You are better.”

Aggie shook his head so violently it rattled the chain in his flange. If he was better, they would take him away like the others.

“I’m still real sick! I need my medicine.”

Hillary laughed, a light sound that anywhere else in the world would have sounded delightful. “You understand,” she said. “You are smarter than most of those we bring down here.”

Aggie kept shaking his head.

She reached out a wrinkled hand and grabbed his jaw, holding him still. He started to talk, but she put a finger on his lips.

“Shhhh,” she said. “Now I show you what happens if you don’t help me. Now we go and see Mommy.”

Loneliness

Robin sat on her couch, Emma’s blocky head in her lap, a half-empty glass of wine in her hand. No lights. Sometimes you just have to sit in the dark. Outside her apartment window, the breeze rippled a tree, making shadows of the branches and leaves weave curving patterns against her linen curtains.

A day’s worth of searching for Bryan had taught her that she didn’t know the first thing about finding someone who didn’t want to be found. She’d checked his apartment, the Hall of Justice, the Bigfoot Lodge — no Bryan. She’d even walked around Rex Deprovdechuk’s house and visited the spot where Jay Parlar had died. Nothing in those places, either.

She’d left at least ten messages. He hadn’t called back, not even when she called to let him know that Erickson had just been downgraded from critical to stable condition.

How much more messed up could things be? Her poor Bryan — what must he be feeling right now? How would she feel if she were the one with that mutation? And as if that weren’t enough, Bryan knew the family he loved so much wasn’t his real family at all.

She took another sip of wine.

The little bit of light filtering through the curtains reflected off Emma’s inner eyes, making them flash a luminescent green. When Robin was upset, Emma always knew and tried to get close. The dog let out a little whimper.

“I’m fine, Sweetie,” Robin said. “It is what it is.”

And what was it? It was going through the rest of her days without the only man she wanted. All the wine in the world couldn’t chase that away. It was living half of a life.

A knock on the apartment door made Emma’s head snap in that direction. The dog scrambled up, inadvertently digging her claws into Robin’s thigh as she pushed off hard and ran for the entryway.

Robin winced, stood up and set the wineglass down on the end table. She followed Emma to the door. The dog had her nose down at the base of the door. Her oversized tail swished so madly her rear end almost toppled her over.

But she only acted like that when …

Robin held her breath as she opened the door.

Emma shot into the hall and started circling Bryan’s legs, throwing her body against him. He reached down and picked her up in his familiar way. Her rear legs dangled limply, her tail pounded against his leg and her pink tongue flicked madly at his face.

“Easy, Boo,” he said. He set Emma down, then turned his green eyes on Robin.

“Hey,” he said.

He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He looked … hopeless. “Hey,” she said.

He started to talk, then stopped. He looked away. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

She stood aside and held the door open. Bryan walked in, Emma at his heels. He seemed to be in a daze. He walked into the dark living room and sat on her couch. She sat near him, but not right next to him. Emma wasn’t as cautious; the black-and-white dog flopped down on his feet and looked up at him lovingly, her tail thumping a regular pattern on the throw rug.

Robin watched him for a moment, then spoke. “I looked for you today,” she said. “I couldn’t find you.”

“Oh. I was sleeping.”

“Where?”

“Pookie’s car,” he said. “I think. I just kind of … wandered.”

His beard had grown so frizzy. It reminded her she still had his beard trimmer in the bathroom. She had always meant to get rid of it, but found reasons not to. She wanted to touch that beard, gently stroke it and take his pain away.

“I was having some wine. Would you like a glass?”

He stared out into the room, into nothing. “Got anything stronger?”

“Your scotch supply is still here. Talisker on the rocks?”

He nodded in a way that said he’d have taken anything she had. She made him his drink, flashing back to the time they’d lived together when she had loved making him drinks. They’d been equals in most areas of life, but she couldn’t help the fact that she liked to wait on him a little.

Moments later she handed him the glass. Ice cubes rattled as he took it. He liked as much ice as the glass would hold. He drained it in one pull and handed it back to her.

“Want another?”

He nodded.

Emma’s tail kept up its steady rhythm.

Robin refilled his glass, then sat down next to him. She picked up his hand, gently, pressed the glass into it.

“Robin, what am I going to do?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s a bit of an unusual situation, to say the least.”

He nodded, took a small sip. She picked up her wineglass. They sat in the dark, in silence, together. This time, she waited until he spoke first.

“What am I?”

“You’re Bryan Clauser.”

“No, I’m not. That part of my life is a lie.”

She wasn’t going to argue with him about that one. Maybe she could talk to his father later, see if there was anything she could do. But for now, she wasn’t about to feed Bryan platitudes.

“You’re a cop,” she said. “Yes, I know you’re fired, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a man who’s dedicated his life to serving the greater good.”

He took another sip. “I used to think that was why I did it. But now, I’m not so sure.”

“What do you mean?”

He finally turned to look at her. The room’s shadows hid his face, took the light out of his green eyes.

“I think I drifted into the job because of what I really am. I think I became a cop because I like to hunt.”

Robin wondered if she looked afraid, because suddenly she was. Bryan had said because I like to hunt , but what he meant was because I like to hunt PEOPLE.

He took another sip. “Some cops kill a guy and it messes them up so bad they quit the force. I’ve killed five men. Five . All in the line of duty, all righteous shoots, okay, but still — I don’t feel bad about any of them.”

He turned away, again looking off into nothingness.

This new Bryan, the one with the emotions turned full on, he was a frightening man. If she didn’t already know him and met him in a dark alley, she’d run the other way. But she did know him. There was so much pain in his face. She wanted to take him into her arms, pull his head to her chest and slowly stroke his hair.

“Bryan, there’s a difference between being a murderer and being a protector . Cops carry guns for a reason.”

He turned to face her again. “But shouldn’t I feel something ? Some kind of remorse? Or guilt? Or whatever the fuck the psychologists kept asking me after every time I put someone down?”

“What do you want me to say? If you hadn’t done what you’d done, Pookie would be dead, John would be dead, and you’d be dead. You saved lives. It’s not like you have an urge to go out and eat babies.”