Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [544]
The FBI agent was downstairs. How could he get her attention? Could he sneak out of the room? But not without Scrapple. The dog might be worthless, but no way would he leave him here.
Then he saw the top knob of the baseball bat sticking out from under the bed. Yes, he had kept it here. He let his hand dangle over the edge of the bed. Shoot! He couldn’t reach it. He glanced back at the closet door. Was it opened a little more? Oh, Christ, was he coming out now? This was no time to hesitate.
Luc jumped out of bed. He slammed his knee into the dresser with a bang that woke up Scrapple. But he grabbed the baseball bat and ran to the closet door, not stopping, not waiting, snatching at the doorknob and pulling it open as he raised the bat. He delivered several strong death blows, smashing the shadow to the floor. It took him a second or two before he realized he had just bludgeoned the only suit he owned, the one he had recently picked up from the dry cleaners and hung in his closet, left in the plastic wrap. He had wanted to be sure the suit was clean and pressed and ready one day for his own funeral. And now it was a crumpled mess on the floor of his closet, after threatening his life.
Luc sat on the edge of his bed, petting the now alert and confused Scrapple, waiting for the shaking in his hands to stop. How ridiculous had he become? What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t only losing his memory but perhaps his mind, as well.
Then he heard a noise from outside. A muffled thump that sounded like it came from the back of the house. And this time Scrapple heard it, too.
CHAPTER 50
It had been a long time since Maggie had slept anywhere and heard the howls of coyotes in the distance. But as she tried to get comfortable on the lumpy old sofa, she thought she heard Luc upstairs. It almost sounded like he was moving furniture around. After his blank episode earlier, Maggie wasn’t sure she wanted to go up and find him, indeed, stacking pieces of furniture on top of one another like a sleepwalker unaware of his actions.
No, that was ridiculous and she immediately admonished herself. Alzheimer’s didn’t manifest itself in totally absurd behavior. At least not that she knew of, but then what did she really know about it? She wished she hadn’t promised him that she wouldn’t call Julia. Racine needed to know if her father’s life might be threatened. Maybe the old man simply wouldn’t remember her promise. Or perhaps she could get him to call his daughter himself.
She watched the shadows of branches outside the window dancing on the ceiling. Luc had night-lights plugged into the sockets all over the house. In a weak moment, he had mentioned being afraid that one day he might forget how to switch on a lamp and be forced to sit in the dark. What an awful feeling it must be to know that could happen. She couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to realize that pieces of your memory, even the basic pieces, had begun to crumble. Or to not have any memories at all. She thought about Patrick again, wondering what, if anything, he knew about their father.
Her own memories, especially of her childhood, of losing her father and growing up with an alcoholic, suicidal mother, those awful memories were burdens she thought she could live without. But earlier today, remembering some of the good ones made her realize that she was cheating herself. What if she were like Luc, not able to sift and select, not having control over what went and what stayed…What an awful feeling that must be. And yet, she had been allowing herself to remember only the awful things when she, in fact, had a choice.
Maggie decided she would go out tomorrow and buy some timers for Luc’s lamps. Also some of the longer-lasting light bulbs. Maybe another lamp or two. She couldn’t keep him from forgetting how to turn on a light, but she could be damn sure he wouldn’t be left