Liquid Smoke

FIFTY-NINE

It was two AM, and I wasn’t sleeping.

I’d wasted a whole day, pacing my living room, staring out at the black ocean, and ignoring the phone every time it rang. Now I was lying in bed, doing the mental equivalent of pacing.

Second thoughts were invading my head.

Miranda’s words had stuck with me. It wasn’t that I didn’t know that what I wanted to do was dangerous. Or that, in the entire scheme of things, it wouldn’t really change anything in my world.

It was anger that was propelling me forward, and I knew that was selfish.

But a man who’d killed two women whom I knew was walking around the streets just like I was. I had a problem with that.

The light shivered through the curtains. I could do the right thing. Let the police do their work and apprehend him. I could report the threats he’d made, tell them about the conversations he and I had. Yes, he was a career criminal and had done a good job, so far, of evading the law. But he’d made a few mistakes in the last few days, and he’d probably be caught. There’d be jail time, then a trial, and then most likely prison.

Then he’d be done walking around.

But I wasn’t sure I was alright with that. As long as he was alive, even if he was in prison, I’d be wondering about him, wondering what he was doing, what he was saying. Maybe bragging about Darcy and Liz. And I’d be furious. There wasn’t any legal justice that could extinguish that anger.

It would screw up my life, Miranda was right about that. But at the moment, I didn’t care. I was lying in bed without Liz, never to feel her hands on my chest, her voice in my ear, or her lips on my cheek again. I didn’t feel like anything could screw up my life any further.

I knew that was emotion talking. Everything was still raw. I had no perspective and no distance, two things I knew I needed before making a decision.

I rolled over in the dark and wondered if I’d have the patience to wait for those two things to arrive.