The Patmos Deception by Bunn Davis

Author:Bunn, Davis [Bunn, Davis]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: FIC042000, FIC042060, FIC027110
ISBN: 9781441264879
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2014-10-27T16:00:00+00:00

25

As soon as he arrived home, Dimitri greeted his father, then went inside. His father had been at sea often enough to know that now wasn’t the time for questions. As he showered, Dimitri recalled when his father had climbed the road after days and nights fishing and taking the next step seemed to hurt. Adoni had moved with an old man’s slow smoothness, every joint aching. He’d winced as his wife embraced him and welcomed him home, sighed into the chair in the sunlight, and often fallen asleep in the middle of a sentence. Dimitri hadn’t thought of those early days in years.

He ate a cold meal standing by the kitchen window. His father assured him he was fine and that Chara had come by several times each day and seen to his needs. Dimitri slipped into bed and felt the aches rise up in a tidal rush, so intense he feared he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

The next thing he knew, his grandmother was shaking his shoulder. “I would not disturb you, but Manos says it is important.”

Dimitri rose to a seated position and accepted the phone. But when he tried to speak, his voice refused to function. He coughed, then accepted the steaming glass of tea, sipped, and finally managed, “Yes, Manos.”

“You will no doubt need to deposit your check for the fish this morning.”

He sipped again, hearing the unspoken warning in the policeman’s formal tone. “Indeed.”

“There is a café across the street from your bank. I will meet you there in an hour.”

Dimitri showered once more, feeling every abrasion beneath the stream of hot water. By the time he emerged, his grandmother had cooked up half a dozen eggs and served them with a loaf of fresh-baked bread. His father watched him from the chair by the window. Chara stood as she so often did in her own kitchen, leaning against the stove, her arms clasped about her middle. Both of them listened intently as Dimitri described the recent events, speaking between bites, finishing the eggs and wiping his plate with another slice of bread. Neither of them responded until he was done, and then his father said, “You are safe. That is what matters most.”

Dimitri swallowed his rejoinder with the last gulp of tea. What he thought was that he might never be safe again. Still, there was nothing to be gained from such comments. He would let them digest the news, then ask their advice once he had spoken with Manos.

Dimitri descended the street from his home, still burdened by weariness. The strain and the exhaustion was not erased by one long sleep. He passed a crone who had been widowed since before he was born. He greeted her respectfully, and the woman responded as she had since his childhood, a soft murmur that carried the weight of empty years. Abruptly he saw himself and the risk of arriving at an end that was as lonely as hers.

The town of Skala was too small to support a true business district.

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