The Book of Fate

29

Limping up the icy driveway and holding his fist against his chest, The Roman eyed the front windows of the classic stucco Colonial with the For Sale sign in the front yard. Although the lights were off, it didn’t slow him down. After hiding his wound — by slipping his bloody foot into one of Nico’s old shoes — he flashed his badge to push his way out of the hospital and quickly made the call. He knew Benjamin was home.

Sure enough, as he reached the side of the house, he grabbed the cold metal handrail and hobbled down a short cement staircase. At the bottom, he reached a door with a faint glow of light peeking out from under it. A small sign above the doorbell said Appointments Only. The Roman didn’t have an appointment. He had something far more valuable.

“Les?” he called out, barely able to stand. Leaning against the doorjamb, he couldn’t feel his left hand, which was still in the same blood-soaked glove that helped him hide it at the hospital. His foot had gone dead almost an hour ago.

“Coming,” a muffled voice said from inside. As the pins and springs of the lock turned, the door opened, revealing a bushy-haired man with bifocals balanced on a plump nose. “Okay, what’d you do this ti—? Oh, jeez, is that blood?”

“I–I need—” Before he could finish, The Roman collapsed, falling forward through the doorway. As always, Dr. Les Benjamin caught him. That’s what brothers-in-law were for.