Red Dragon - Thomas Harris [55]
That was where Graham lost his faith in .38's.
“Willy, the business with Hobbs, it bothered me a lot. You know, I kept it on my mind and I saw it over and over. I got so I couldn't think about much else. I kept thinking there must be some way I could have handled it better. And then I quit feeling anything. I couldn't eat and I stopped talking to anybody. I got really depressed. So a doctor asked me to go into the hospital, and I did. After a while I got some distance on it. The girl that got hurt in Hobbs's apartment came to see me. She was okay and we talked a lot. Finally I put it aside and went back to work.”
“Killing somebody, even if you have to do it, it feels that bad?”
“Willy, it's one of the ugliest things in the world.”
“Say, I'm going in the kitchen for a minute. You want something, a Coke?” Willy liked to bring Graham things, but he always made it a casual adjunct to something he was going to do anyway. No special trip or anything.
“Sure, a Coke.”
“Mom ought to come out and look at the lights.”
# # #
Late in the night Graham and Molly sat in the backporch swing. Light rain fell and the boat lights cast grainy halos on the mist. The breeze off the bay raised goose bumps on their arms.
“This could take a while, couldn't it?” Molly said.
“I hope it won't, but it might.”
“Will, Evelyn said she could keep the shop for this week and four days next week. But I've got to go back to Marathon, at least for a day or two when my buyers come. I could stay with Evelyn and Sam. I should go to market in Atlanta myself. I need to be ready for September.”
“Does Evelyn know where you are?”
“I just told her Washington.”
“Good.”
“It's hard to have anything, isn't it? Rare to get it, hard to keep it. This is a damn slippery planet.”
“Slick as hell.”
“We'll be back in Sugarloaf, won't we?”
“Yes we will.”
“Don't get in a hurry and hang it out too far. You won't do that?”
“No.”
“Are you going back early?”
He had talked to Crawford half an hour on the phone.
“A little before lunch. If you're going to Marathon at all, there's something we need to tend to in the morning. Willy can fish.”
“He had to ask you about the other.”
“I know, I don't blame him.”
“Damn that reporter, what's his name?”
“Lounds. Freddy Lounds.”
“I think maybe you hate him. And I wish I hadn't brought it up. Let's go to bed and I'll rub your back.”
Resentment raised a minute blister in Graham. He had justified himself to an elevenyearold. The kid said it was okay that he had been in the rubber Ramada. Now she was going to rub his back. Let's go to bed - it's okay with Willy.
When you feel strain, keep your mouth shut if you can.
“If you want to think awhile, I'll let you alone,” she said.
He didn't want to think. He definitely did not. “You rub my back and I'll rub your front,” he said.
“Go to it, Buster.”
# # #
Winds aloft carried the thin rain out over the bay and by nine A.M. the ground steamed. The far targets on the sheriff's department range seemed to flinch in the wavy air.
The rangemaster watched through his binoculars until he was sure the man and woman at the far end of the firing line were observing the safety rules.
The Justice Department credentials the man showed when he asked to use the range said “Investigator.” That could be anything. The rangemaster did not approve of anyone other than a qualified instructor teaching pistolcraft.
Still, he had to admit the fed knew what he was doing.
They were only using a .22-caliber revolver but he was teaching the woman combat shooting