Lust Demented

{XIX}

THE SUN WAS HIDING FROM me. I lost a day. Slept one afternoon to the next night. Jet lag without the jet. Returning from the opposite of a vacation. A knock at the door. Then another. And one more. The 7 train rattled the window frames.

No other sane option, than to pull myself up into the sky. A quick hop from the kitchen sink. Up through the hole in the ceiling. The city let her gown down, along with the intruders below.

“The place is flooded.” Sgt. Bethany Powers shook the rain off her boots. I could smell the gunpowder in her crimson locks.

“There’s nothing here.” Wasting no time, Detective Anderson nonchalantly picked through my trash with his baton.

“Looks like he’s working on a new book.” Sgt. Powers picked Lust Demented off the bed. Flipping through it she got a little excited, vaguely aware of the power concealed in what she was holding. “It’s all written by hand. Illegible and on ragged scraps of paper. Parking tickets. Job applications. Court summons. Sample sale fliers. Looks like Farrow wanders the city writing this drivel, picking up scraps of paper whenever the muse hits him.”

“Leave it. Guy’s had enough...” Detective Anderson seemed to sense that I was listening.

“Finally some leverage. How far do you think Farrow will go to get it back?”

Hidden in the backup rice cooker, I found the unused ticket to Sri Lanka dated for the same week we met. She was planning an escape from her escape. I was in awe by the fact what we shared between us kept her here. I’m sure it was more complex than that, but simple at the core: A love overwhelmed us both. A blizzard without snow. War without boundaries. A storm of beauty and destruction that would take prisoners, end lives, and above all make new life.

The jakes got what they needed and were off, slamming the door behind them. Seems they were sick of chasing me and instead wanted me to chase them. The old rusted iron skeleton of a fire escape took me down to Roosevelt Avenue. The sidewalks were packed under the shadowy tracks of the 7 making it easy enough to stay hidden in the crowd.

Since Sgt. Powers and Detective Anderson stayed in sight, I moved with them. The redhead was saying something the big man didn’t appreciate. The way he kept scratching his eyebrow sent chills down my spine. Then she went for him with the taser. He looked surprised, but maybe it was just how it felt to catch a jolting. Detective Anderson twitched and spasmed as he hit the concrete. I found him in a sad shape, eyes rolled to the back of his head, foaming at the mouth.

“What’s wrong with him?” A woman cradled his head answering her own question. “A seizure. He’s having a seizure.”

“Relax. An ambulance will be here shortly.”

“Who is he? What happened to him?” The first wave of paramedics find his gun. They find badge. They find his strong grip.

“I’m a detective with the 13^th precinct. I’m fine. It’s a health condition.” The way he grabbed the paramedic’s shirt by the collar, dragging him in for a close look was more a threat than promise.

“Still. We’re bringing you down to the hospital to have you checked out. Just to rule out…”

“Rule out bringing me anywhere. I’m in the middle of an investigation.” The big man was back on his feet. Leading me down an alley with a familiar fury through the back entrance of a building marked with an obscure sign.