A heavy handful of keys slid across the table, stopping against a stack of loose papers and binders. The rings held devices of brass and shiny aluminum reflected the ambient light for a brief moment until Jackson’s hand closed over them. Dave Abernacle — a stupid name, but he liked it well enough — stood at the end of the opposite end of the table.
His house was still a wreck from his meeting with John, most of that mess had been cleaned up, but there was still the matter of the black scorches on the stairs left over from the Paramedics. Rubber gloves on his hands he had been at work cleaning the bedroom from top to bottom. For whatever reason, the act of cleaning usually gave him time enough to think and sort things out; it was almost a similar exercise to his morning runs and workouts, except there was more to think about when he was not as active.
The street lamps were dim and yellow; the few that worked hardly provided enough light to keep the streets safe at night. Jackson kept his eyes roaming while he canvassed the area from the safety of his Honda. Counting the illicit customers coming and going from the yellow house on the corner of Third and Elm, seeing no apparent pattern at this time of night, but all the same the plan did not matter to whatever pattern the customers took, there were no innocents in this equation.
It was not the sort of way he wished to spend a Saturday afternoon, but it had to be done. Emily was stable but the damage to her body was severe this time, the chemically induced coma was something the doctors needed to help her recover but it was Doctor Evans that put his hand on Jackson’s shoulder, “It was bad this time, you know.”
“She should be dead.”
He laid the lint brush on the table to his left as he tied a single winzer knot in his tie. Jackson hated the double, he could never make it work right and for expedience he opted to stop trying. The lint brush ran over his shoulders and he stared in the mirror to make sure his appearance was as professional as he liked to keep. Satisfied after a few more strokes he made his way downstairs and once again hoped to smell a breakfast that was never in the air anymore.