The Midnight Road by Tom Piccirilli

Author:Tom Piccirilli [Piccirilli, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Fiction, Thriller
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2007-06-26T04:00:00+00:00

You could tell the trouble surrounding Flynn frightened, intrigued and kind of turned on Dale Mooney. It got under his skin and made him think of sex and murder. His eyes burned in his doughy, placid face.

This wasn’t your common neurosis and tendency toward OCD. There was blood on the ground. Mooney’s eyes gleamed and he kept wetting his lips like a nervous starlet getting ready for her close-up. He was obscenely fascinated. You could see Mooney thought it added a certain street cred to him as he sat there in his leather wingback chair, ballpoint pen in his hand, clicking it over and over against his hairy chin. Freud would have something to say about that, definitely.

Mooney had some of his own issues. He went three hundred with a shag beard and a Hitler haircut. He squinted and sniffed like a coke fiend. Somehow he had a strong presence. Folks at the CPS rallied to him. Even those who didn’t like him admitted they found him fascinating. Flynn couldn’t get it into focus.

Flynn had refused to lie down. He didn’t like the disadvantage it put him at. Mooney staring down at him, Mooney fully aware of his surroundings, and Flynn there on the couch with his eyes shut, waiting for somebody to put a letter opener in his ear. No, he’d meet the guy eye to eye, and, if he thought he might actually get anything out of this, he might even tell the truth. Some of the truth.

About some things. Probably not the talking dead dog.

“It would be much more beneficial for you if you could lie on the couch and try to relax a little,” Mooney said.

“I prefer not to.”

“To relax?”

“To lie on the couch.”

“Why, if I may ask?”

“You may ask indeed,” Flynn said. His phony smile cut into his face like a thumbnail gouged into a piece of clay. He gave it a three count before continuing. His voice had a lilt to it that it didn’t normally have. He should never be amenable, amenable and him just didn’t go together, but he was still trying. It was a weak effort, but it was still an attempt. “The reason is that I’ve been feeling quite vulnerable of late, and although I’m ‘among friends,’ as it were, lying on your couch, even though it is a nice rich leather, would make me feel even more insecure and so less forthcoming.”

“I see. I assure you, you’re quite safe here.”

“Your assurances aside, I don’t feel safe anywhere lately.”

“Yes, well, I suppose that is understandable.”

“Your supposition is correct,” Flynn told him. “But take it on faith that I’m trying here, Dale. I didn’t even bring my gun in.”

“You wear a gun now?”

“Yes.”

“Loaded?”

Probably the stupidest question ever. Flynn stared at Mooney, waiting for him to acknowledge his misstep, his folly, but he didn’t. The shrink just kept waiting, his eyebrows on the rise now, climbing farther up his forehead, his whole face saying, I am inquisitive, I am curious, I anticipate an answer.

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