I park my car outside of the condo building and take the stairs even though the elevators are closer. I like charging up the steps, like I'm building momentum. The climactic scene in a movie.
I'm not even winded when I reach the fourth floor, and I follow around the balcony to his unit. I knock with my left hand, my right grasping the gun in my pocket.
He opens the door.
My gaze lands on the child at his side. My right hand stills on the hidden gun. The girl is maybe four, with red hair and freckles. She's eating a blue Popsicle.
Mark's voice interrupts my shock. “Can I help you?”
My gaze snaps back to him. He's wearing a polo shirt and cargo shorts—in pastel. The dude has sunglasses resting on top of his head, even though it's almost ten at night and he is indoors.
First time I've ever been sent to whack a frat boy.
“Oh, um, yeah,” I say, my brain clamoring for an actual reply. “I'm new to the area. I was wondering if you knew what there was to do around here?”
Mark shrugs. “Well, it's a university town, so there's plenty. What do you like to do?”
I stare at him, lamely.
I can't even give an honest answer to that one. Not have a hum in my head? Not have the Walker family argue over their ownership of me? Not have the most amazing woman I've ever met mad at me for forgetting to buy an apple?
“Drink,” I say. “I like to drink.”
A goofy grin forms on Mark's face. “Listen, I just got back in town, and my buddies and I are going out tomorrow for a few beers. Why don't you swing by?”
I nod, trying to regain my composure and put on a good front. He doesn't look like someone who would normally hang with a guy in a trench coat, so I have to play this right. My plan has been totally screwed up. I wasn't expecting a kid to be here with him. Intel has let me down again.
Mark continues talking, and I try to pay attention.
“If you turn south out of the parking lot and take a left at the light, you'll see the bar on the corner. Around seven tomorrow night, okay?”
“Sure, thanks, man.” I shrug and walk away.
The hum mellows out a little. I'm sure Mark was just trying to get the weirdo off his porch and doesn't expect me to actually show up at the bar. The hum, however, knows I will. It knows Mark's death is imminent.
I have no idea how I'm going to bait the trap, but I'll figure it out. I always do.
***
When I arrive home, Silvia is sitting in the living room chair with a glass of water on the end table next to her.
“At least your clothes are still on,” I say as I lock the front door behind me. “Did you kill anything?”
“Did you?”
I halt in my steps. The semblance to an after-work conversation between a married couple is uncanny. And terrifying.
Please, Karl, have a son.
I head to the kitchen.
“Not yet.” I grab a coke from the fridge and return to the living room. “Met him, though. He's a douche nozzle. Got some serious frat boy shit going on.”
She lights up from the pack sitting on her lap. “How are you going to do it?”
“Why? You want video?” I yank the cigarette from her hand and lean over her to submerge it into her glass of water. “No smoking in the house.”
She flutters her eyes. “I was thinking we should do something tonight.”
I cross the room and drop onto the couch. “Oh, god, here comes the we-don't-spend-enough-time-together talk.”
She gives me a blank stare. “Well, we don't.”
“Let's spend the next two hours side-by-side, then.” I drink my soda, waiting for her response, but she doesn't give me one. “Two hours in a car driving you back to the mansion.”
She frowns, but still doesn't say anything. Then she picks up her pack of cigarettes and heads for the door.
I spend the trip between the mansion and back trying to figure out what to do about Syd. Even though I want to convince myself letting her go is the right thing, my mind keeps switching back to the conversation with Coleen. I made Syd happy.
Somehow, that derailed, and the longer Syd and I go without speaking, the further into the distance I will become. Yet I don't know what to say to her. Something tells me there is only one right answer, and I only get one guess.
Back home, the house is silent. The way it used to be. I had never realized just how lonely this place is. Now I can't stop noticing it. No text messages going off on my phone. No anticipating the sound of an engine in the carport. No beautiful woman to undress and slather with devotion.
I can't believe I let her think it was just about sex.
After I crawl into bed, I text her the only thing I can:
I'm sorry, Syd.
I settle down to sleep, pretending she will wake me with a reply. My phone, however, remains silent.
***
I don't notice until I'm actually inside that the meeting place with Mark and his pals is a strip club. On the stage across the room, women grind up against poles and perform maneuvers I'm pretty sure were not the intentions of gymnastic class.