“Well, yeah, but that wouldn’t solve anything.”
“What?” Fred backed up a step, looking like a small rodent suddenly face to face with a very large cat.
“Did I say that out loud?”
“What?”
If Fred was a monster, Dean decided, he hid it well. On the other hand, a man facing a much larger man was often a different person than a man facing a woman. “Look, you wait here. I’ll check if Faith wants to see you.”
“Is she all right? Is she hurt? The message said she was just tired.” What seemed like near panic jerked the words out in a staccato rush.
“She’s fine.”
“Then why wouldn’t she want to see me?”
Dean sighed. “Just wait here, okay?”
Fred’s gaze skittered around the office as though checking for traps. When it finally got back to Dean, he nodded. “Okay.”
Shaking his head, Dean started up the stairs.
THOSE KIND OF WEASELS ARE THE FIRST TO PICK ON SOMEONE WEAKER THAN THEMSELVES. YOU SHOULD SHOW HIM HOW IT FEELS.
Dean’s fingers curled up into fists.
VIOLENCE IS ONE OF OURS.
Down in the lobby, Fred shifted his weight off his bad foot and stared mournfully at the stairs. He didn’t want to wait, he wanted to see Faith.
Which was when he noticed the elevator. A fascination for all things mechanical drew him across to it, limp almost forgotten. He opened the door, peered past the gate, down into the shaft, and could just make out the top of the car. It seemed to be in the basement.
Brow furrowed under the brim of his cap, he opened the door immediately to his left.
The basement stairs.
It was easier going down the stairs than up. He could take the elevator to the top of the hotel and go down to Faith’s room, missing the big guy with the glasses entirely.
No one would mind. Elevators were there to be used.
Leaning outside the door to room three while Faith put on her face, Dean polished his glasses with the hem of his shirt and tried not to think about how much he’d enjoy flattening Fred’s quivering pink nose.
ONE, TWO, SPLAT. THAT’S THE TICKET.
Lost in memories of a childhood spent riding the old elevator at the S&R Department Store, Fred touched two fingers to his cap brim, murmured, “First floor, ladies lingerie,” and twisted the brass lever to UP.
Sitting in the bathroom, reading the Apothecary’s new catalog, Claire heard the unmistakable sound of an ancient elevator starting up.
By the time she reached the lobby, it was just passing the first floor. She didn’t know the man inside.
Dean frowned as he heard the elevator rise to meet the second floor, then he shrugged. Claire’d said she was through testing, but obviously she’d thought of something else to try.
Then he heard:
“Second floor, housewares and cosmetics.”
By the time he got across the hall, all he could see was the bottom third of a pair of grimy jeans and Fred’s worn and grubby running shoes.
He had to beat the elevator to the third floor. If Fred opened the door…
HE’LL GET WHAT HE DESERVES. FAITH’S TERRIFIED OF HIM. YOU SAW THAT YOURSELF. THERE’LL BE ONE LESS ABUSIVE WEASEL IN THE WORLD.
Dean hesitated.
Then Faith’s door opened. When she stepped out into the hall and saw only Dean, her smile dimmed. “Where’s my Pookie?”
Claire reached the second floor and saw Dean charging toward her. Then past her. The elevator had passed and was still moving up. Gasping for breath, she took the next flight of stairs two at a time, but had only reached the landing when Dean, who’d barely looked as though he were touching down at all, reached the top.
The growl of the motor stopped.
Unless he was a total klutz, it would only take seconds for the man inside to open the gate. The taste of old pennies in the back of her throat, Claire staggered into the third floor hall as the elevator door started to open. Before the latch cleared, Dean threw himself in front of it and slammed it shut.
“Hey!”
Chest heaving, Claire staggered up on rubbery legs as Dean stepped back and, after making sure that it had indeed closed completely, pulled the door open.
“It’s just I’ve got this sore foot,” Fred began hurriedly. “And you know, the stairs are steep, and…”
Dean cut off the rest of the excuse by reaching in, grabbing the smaller man by the front of his jacket, and pulling him out into the hall.
“Pookie?” Faith’s anxious voice drifted up from the second floor. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, Baby, it’s me.” Fred smiled, or twitched, nervously, eyes flicking from Dean to Claire and back to Dean. “She calls me Pookie.”
“You must be the boyfriend,” Claire hazarded.
“Yeah. I’m Fred.”
She jerked her head toward the stairs. “Go on.”
Fred sidled out of Dean’s reach and limped quickly away.
Dean hadn’t moved since he pulled Fred from the elevator. Worried, Claire took a step toward him. “Are you okay?”
He lifted horrified eyes to her face. “I hesitated.”
“When?”
“When I heard the elevator go by. I heard a little voice say, he’ll get what he deserves, and I…” He shook his head in disbelief “…I hesitated.”
About to reassure him that it was no big deal, Claire suddenly realized that for Dean, it was. For the first time in his life, he hadn’t automatically done the right thing. If she couldn’t convince him to let it go, irrational guilt would eat at him for the rest of his life. That’s it, Claire, no pressure.
Wrapping her fingers around his forearm, she gave him a little shake. “You saved him, Dean. I couldn’t have gotten here in time.”
“You don’t understand. I actually thought about letting Fred…” Unable to continue, he shook free of her grip and stumbled back away from her.
Claire sighed. How unfortunate that smacking some sense into him would probably scar his psyche forever. “Dean, listen to me. I know you think I’m lousy at people stuff but I’m older, I’m a Keeper, I know; people
