Nate Castle 2: With Looks That Could Kill Nate Castle Novel by Vernon Rush

Author:Vernon Rush [Rush, Vernon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, United States, African American, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Mystery, Hard-Boiled
Amazon: B00XZTG8CW
Publisher: Vernon Rush
Published: 2015-05-30T04:00:00+00:00

142

Chapter Eight

!

Step 8, Then His Blood Chilled

!

Staying at the penthouse was tenuous from

the point out. It was no problem crashing inside,

not leaving until the periphery was processed but

eventually Nate and Jack would have to be

moved.

Nate stirred finally, and without concern for

Marcella's sensibilities, lit a cigarette inside the

home.

"Hey," Jack chastised. "Don't do that."

"It's too cold on the terrace. I can't use the

entry till CSI leaves. What should I do?"

"How about not smoking?" Jack glared.

"Look I know it's a program of attraction no

promotion but as soon as we can, what's say we

hit a meeting?"

It had only been a day or so since Nate had

been to a meeting. He led that meeting. He had

been carrying around a bindle of heroin around

with hIm which was new since he considered

himself an alcoholic. They always said in the

143

rooms that even if you were clean and sober, and

never did this or that, that all of it was a 'yet' for

the substance abuser. An alcoholic was not safe

from drugs and a person who got in trouble

shooting dope could not safely use.

They also said once you stopped going to

meetings you started getting unwell one step at a

time, starting with the last step you worked,

going backwards. Between the copping dope and

the staring at the alcohol the night before with

the security guard, Nate felt completely

disconnected from recovery. While most of Nate

did not want to go to a meeting, some part of him

knew he better.

He was about to unload to Jack all the things

he was going that he had been holding dope for a

while. He didn’t know what had gotten into him

or why. He just didn’t want the fact that he had

to compromise his contribution to the case or

make him responsible for the choices he made in

connection to it. The guilt for having chosen to

remain in the penthouse while the vic was being

butchered, was settling in. His head was going

back over the mental math, trying to find that

144

weak spot that would let him walk through, and

undo the murder. The reality of it was unfolding

and Nate was starting to really freak.

“I need a meeting,” said Nate finally. He

spoke carefully. He was afraid that if he made

any sudden moves, he would literally fall apart.

“This trip has only been a few days and already

I’ve seen two dead guys.”

“That’s rough,” sympathized Jack.

“Whether I used the right language or not,”

Nate reasserted, tears streaming down his face,

“that woman knows more than she is saying

about these crimes. She has inside information

she has not disclosed. I can feel it. And I think

that’s why she doesn’t like me.”

“That and the fact that she is a raging bigot,”

added Jack.

Jack’s phone buzzed. He looked at it.

“Liam,” he remarked.

“What?” asked Nate.

Something about the mention of the young

cop’s name had meaning to Nate but he couldn’t

peg it. Nate was scattered. Nate needed more

145

than a meeting. He needed help. But what was it

about the name?

Jack announced, “We are good to go. We are

out of here. They’ve set us up in the Marriott a

block down and over. Ready to hoof it? We’ll

check in, get some nourishment and go to the

meeting.

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