Killer Karma

Dismay spread through him. Red said there would be people who never saw him, but…Sherrie…not even in dreams? He raised his voice. “Sherrie! Come on. Please. Let me tell you about Sara Benay. Wake up a little.”

Instead, she fell more deeply asleep, breath slowing even more and heart beating steadily on.

Pain wrenched his chest as though to tear it apart. “Sherrie…” If she never saw him, how could he explain things to her?

After a last touch on her hair and pat on Tiger’s head, Cole backed out of the livingroom and headed upstairs. He could not leave for Razor’s place without looking in on the kids.

Near the top of the stairs, a thought dropped into his gut like lead. What if Razor turned out to be blind to him, too?

He tried shrugging off the possibility. Think positively. Even if the dream ploy also failed with Razor, he was just back to using the computer, right? But now he could not help wondering if computer messages would work either. Might he have to find a way to help Sara all on his own?

At Hannah’s door, he shoved the questions aside. Right now, only his family mattered.

Joanna slept on the futon in Hannah’s room. In her own bed, Hannah lay rosy-cheeked and curled with her head almost against the safety rails. He kissed her forehead and stood watching her for several minutes, listening to her breathing and heartbeat, remembering the baby smell of her, before moving on to Kyle’s room.

There a faint glow coming through the comforter betrayed that number two son was still awake…reading under the covers by his book light.

Cole slapped the hump marking Kyle’s butt. “Lights out, sport. I know Horatio Hornblower is great stuff, but tomorrow you’ve got school.”

Kyle read on, oblivious to him.

Up in the attic where Travis and Renee had their rooms, Travis was asleep. A tear stain crossed his check. Cole’s throat closed. He had visions of Travis keeping a brave front while Sherrie told them about the car, then giving way to tears in the privacy of his room.

Cole ran his fingers across the rumpled hair before leaving. “Hey, partner, you don’t have to try to be so tough, you know.”

Renee’s room was dark, too, but without surprise he found her awake. Another night owl. She sat in front of her beloved peacock window, wrapped in her bathrobe, violin tucked under her chin. By day, the fan of panes she had colored with glass paint cast a rainbow across the floor. Now only light from the street lights silhouetted her as she played quietly.

Even at a whisper, he recognized the piece, Barber’s Adagio For Strings. The melancholy music always reminded him of the Omaha Novembers of his childhood…overcast skies, bare trees, the ground carpeted with dank leaves. Was it one of the choices for her upcoming recital?

A recital he had to miss.

Thinking about that, Cole realized in despair how much else he had to miss. He would never know if Renee made it to the concert stage. He would never walk her or Hannah down the aisle, see his sons turn into men, or know his grandchildren. He and Sherrie would never do the things they had planned for retirement. The strains of the Adagio wrapped around him… tonight sounding even bleaker, sighing of unutterable loss.

Grief and searing anger boiled up in him. He might be here to pull Sara out of the mess he landed her in, but that son of a bitch in the Elvis mask was unfinished business, too. Before he left, he would hunt down the bastard and ruin his life.

9

The anger at his killer fueled Cole’s resentment at walking to Razor’s place. Damn it, he ought to be able to ziptrip! Standing in the hall outside Renee’s room, still hearing the Adagio, he tried again…picturing the apartment…straining to remember every detail as he imagined himself in the apartment. Did he need to take into account that at this time of night the drapes would be closed? Or maybe open just a crack, enough to admit light from the street and from the ground floor shoe store’s sign…and from the right angle, give a glimpse of the Coit Tower to the east.

The hallway blurred…turned into Razor’s front room. Cole stood behind the futon, at the window. Triumph at making it here mixed with bafflement. What was different this time? Yes, he thought about the view from the window, but could that detail really be what did the trick? Shaking his head, he turned away from the window.

Razor had the futon made out into a bed and wore sleep shorts and a t-shirt, but he still looked wide awake. Propped against pillows, he watched a movie on TV with the sound muted and closed captioning on.

Checking out the movie, Cole grimaced. He knew this one and it had barely begun. “Come on, amigo…you don’t need to watch this again. You know Segal whips Tommy Lee Jones’s ass and keeps Honolulu from being nuked. Turn it off and go to bed.” He moved behind Razor and dropped his voice to a drone. “Your eyelids are feeling heavy. Heavy…heavy. You’re getting sleepy…very sleepy.”

Razor remained wide awake.

Scratch suggestion as a solution. The TV remote Razor held gave Cole an idea, though. It should not be much different from a computer, right?

He reached down across Razor’s shoulder, put a finger on the power button, and closed his eyes. “Time to go to sleep.” He fished around until he felt the tickle, and heard the click of the TV shutting off.

Razor muttered. Cole opened his eyes to see Razor pushing the power button.

Well of course Razor would turn it back on. Cole turned it off.

Muttering, Razor hit the power again, this time with a hard punch of his thumb…and kept the thumb resting on the button.

Though that did not block his access to it, Cole decided to change tactics. He went for Mute. The closed captions disappeared and the sound came on.

The mutter became an expletive. Razor re-muted the sound.

Cole found himself enjoying the game. He went to the channel buttons and switched up one. When Razor changed back, Cole dropped down a channel.

With expletives turning into a longer curse, Razor returned to the movie channel. Cole hit the Menu button. Razor cleared that off the screen…accompanied by an expletive he never used around Holly.

Cole grinned. Now what could he do. Oh, yes. There was that time at home when Hannah played with the remote. He punched DVD.

The screen went blank except for the message VID, replaced moments later by: “Unusable Signal”. And as he had after Hannah’s monkeying, Razor began trying every button on the remote to restore normal TV function. His disgust and frustration grew visibly with each failure. Even turning the TV off and on did not restore the picture. Finally Razor happened to punch WHO-Input. Cole was ready, poised over the power button. As the movie came back, he turned off the TV.

That did it. Swearing in a tone which suggested only supreme self control let him keep it under his breath, Razor hurled the remote away from him. Fortunately, into the easy chair, not through the TV screen. He set his glasses on the end table, switched off the lamp, and flung himself flat on the futon.

Cole watched in satisfaction. They should be in business any time now.

Razor took several deep breaths and let them out slowly. His whole body relaxed and Cole heard his heart rate drop. In less than a minute, Razor’s breathing stabilized.

Asleep, just like that. Razor had done it in their patrol unit, too. Cole shook his head. It still amazed him. Razor woke just as abruptly, too. When their call number came over the radio, he went from dead to the world to fully alert, snatching up the mike for a reply. Possibly making it harder to convince him he was still asleep.

Cole considered the possibilities. He could wade through the futon, or sit on an invisible chair. That should be freaky enough for a dream.

He gave the chair a try. It worked fine, except it seemed…blah. Maybe make it a lounger? He lifted both legs and leaned back with his hands behind his head. No. A lounger still lacked the craziness a dream ought to