Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [683]
The young detective asked if everything was to his liking, if there was anything else he needed. He told him the others would be coming soon. Just as a hotel person brought in a tray with all the makings for his hot tea, the detective left in search of the meeting room they were to use downstairs off the lobby.
Keller stood back and admired the contents on the tray: a porcelain carafe of hot water, a delicate bone-china teacup and saucer, a matching plate with an assortment of teas in colorful packages, a small stainless-steel pitcher with milk and a small dish with miniature sugar cubes. If that wasn’t enough of a treat, they had included a small basket, and he peeked under the linen napkin to find a treasure of biscuits and muffins still warm.
He rubbed his hands together, content, sitting and staring at the surprise feast. Finally, he chose a package of tea and poured a cup, relishing the aroma. Yes, this would make it all better. He could feel a warmth start to fill him even with the first sip.
He had been wrong to think he should have to do without these simple pleasures. It had been almost four years, four long years of punishment he didn’t deserve. He had tried to make his time as productive as possible. But there were so many who needed him. So many who were miserable and starving, neglected and abused. At times it was overwhelming. He knew he couldn’t be expected to save them all. But Arturo was different, special. Those sad, dark eyes were like a window into his own childhood, a constant reminder of what it was like to have no one who cared. He had been lucky to have his mother, though only for twelve short years. But Arturo had no one except those who knew only how to punish and abuse him. No, he could never have left without saving Arturo. It was the least he could do.
A knock at the door rudely interrupted him. He wished he could ignore it. Perhaps it was simply the hotel person, coming back for the tray. Did they come back this quickly? Or it could be someone else checking to make sure he was comfortable.
He opened the door just a crack. The detective had already returned.
“We’re ready for you,” he said, and suddenly all the therapeutic magic of the tea seemed to dissipate.
CHAPTER 74
Washington, D.C.
He called in sick. Two days in a row. His boss wasn’t happy. Yesterday wasn’t much of a problem. Today meant canceling an account meeting in Saint Louis, which meant canceling a flight, maybe not getting back the full refund on the ticket. The cheap bastard would buy wing seats if he got a good enough discount. Last week’s trip to Florida he had even been on standby. Standby, for God’s sake. Was that any way to run a business? He didn’t care if he got fired. Right now he didn’t care about anything except the banging in his chest that had rapidly moved to include the back of his head. He worried that soon his entire body would become one throbbing ache.
He had ignored the blinking e-mail icon in the corner of his computer screen, but he knew he couldn’t ignore it forever. He felt it watching him, could feel it through the walls like some laser beam following him from room to room. It was ridiculous. Of course, The Sin Eater couldn’t see him, certainly couldn’t watch him. So how did he know?
He paced in front of the computer. Calling in sick wasn’t really a lie. He did feel sick, nauseated and feverish. When he glanced at himself in the mirror this morning he hardly recognized his image. His hair looked like it had thinned overnight and there seemed to be a sickly yellow tinge to his skin. His bloodshot eyes were swollen from little sleep. How could he sleep when Mrs. Sanchez kept waking him up, staring at him from the dark corner of his