Good thing she was in Baltimore for the weekend and wouldn’t be back til tonight. Because he wasn’t sure he could keep the news from her.
Jack sat in the dark on a thick limb of the tree across the street from Steve’s house, watching.
It had turned out to be a quiet Sunday, quieter than usual after the rain started around midday. Kate was stil at her apartment in Stratford. Tom was
packing to move back to his place in Jersey City. Sure signs that summer was drawing to a close. Not much shaking at USED either, so Jack did his
cleanups and polishing, and practiced his lock picking when he had a chance.
After dinner, he’d watched a
about Steve, and how his friend’s family was messed up now because of him.
No, he kept tel ing himself. Steve’s father had been the one to mess up that family.
Final y he’d pul ed on a shirt and jeans and slipped out his window.
He wasn’t sure what had drawn him here. Guilt? Or maybe worry that Mr. Brussard might slip off into the night?
The rain had stopped earlier but the tree bark and leaves were stil wet; a thick mist hung in the air, glowing in the widely scattered streetlights. The
house lay dark and quiet. No sign of anyone moving about. Jack final y asked himself what he was accomplishing here. And when he couldn’t come up
with a good answer, he decided it was time to go.
But just as he was readying to swing down from the limb, he saw a thin dark streak flowing through the mist along Harding Street. He couldn’t cal it
black, couldn’t cal it solid. More like something colorless or invisible, displacing the mist. Tapered at both ends, maybe ten feet long and no more than
two feet wide, it moved lazily, undulating on the breeze—
And then Jack realized with a start that there was no breeze.
Despite the warmth of the night, chil gooseflesh rippled over his skin. He shrank back against the tree trunk and watched as the streak angled toward
the Brussard house. For some reason he wanted to shout out a warning, but his vocal cords were clenched tight. And a warning against what? Smoke? A
hole in the mist?
Whatever it was, it nosed against the left side of Steve’s house and then splashed out along the siding like water from a faucet hitting a sink. As it
spread it thinned and broke up into tiny dark wisps that swirled and faded to nothing.
Weird, Jack thought. Real y weird. But it was gone now. Time to get back.
He swung down from the branch and began walking home. As he passed the house he glanced back and saw the streak seeping out the opposite
side. He stopped, his Vans glued to the pavement, watching as it reformed into the elongated shape he’d first seen. It began to drift again …
Toward him.
And then a light came on in the house and he heard a woman scream.
Part of him wanted to run up to Steve’s door and see if he could help, but he had a feeling whatever had happened in there was beyond his help or
anybody else’s.
Mr. Brussard had just met the klazen. Jack was sure of it.
And now it was heading for him.
No … angling northwest … across his intended path.
So Jack did an about-face and began walking the other way, taking the long way home. When he looked back he saw the streak stil headed in the
other direction.
Safe … or was he? Somehow he didn’t feel safe.
He broke into a run and didn’t slow until he’d reached his yard. He stopped and looked around, praying he wouldn’t see a dark streak filtering through
the misty cornrows of the neighboring field and heading his way.
Nothing. It must stil be heading northwest.
Wait … the county jail was northwest of Johnson … and Mr. Chal is had stayed there … because it was safer …
He wished Weezy were here. She’d be so into this. But Jack …
