Emerald City by Chris Nickson

Author:Chris Nickson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Creative Content Ltd

Fourteen

“So, let me get this straight, ma’am,” the patrolman said, looking at the bullet on the table. “It was in an envelope in your mailbox.”

“Yes,” I told him for the third time. “No address. Someone must have unlocked the box and put it in there.”

Steve sat at the table, staring down into his lap. Since the cop had arrived he’d only spoken when asked a question, his voice barely above a whisper. I’d poured us both a shot of brandy before I called 911, then we’d waited. He’d tried to calm me, but all he did was work himself up even more. I knew he was terrified. So was I. First the calls, then maybe the car, and now this. It was way too real. All I could do was try to hold it together.

I’d told the patrolman about Craig Adler, the story and the threats and he’d written it all down carefully. The bullet was standing on the coffee table; I hadn’t been able to take my gaze off it.

“And you don’t know who might have sent it?”

“The guy who’s been making the phone calls,” I said in exasperation. “It’s an obvious connection.”

“You have no enemies, ma’am?” he asked. “No friends who think this would be a good joke?”

“Only the person making the threats. The one who might have tampered with my brakes.” He was acting as if this happened every day, as if he couldn’t see how serious this was to me. To us.

“You told me the mechanic said it was probably just age,” the patrolman said.

“Yes. But he couldn’t be certain.” I wanted it on record, noted down.

The patrolman slipped the bullet into a plastic bag. “I don’t think we’ll get anything from it since you’ve both handled it but you never know. I’ll need the envelope, too.”

“What are you going to do about it?” I asked at the door.

“We’ll look into it, ma’am. We’ll fill out a report. If you call the precinct we’ll be able to give you the number for reference. One of the detectives might want to talk to you both.”

He put on his cap, straightened it carefully and wished us both a good evening. I sat down next to Steve and took hold of his hand.

“They’re not going to do anything, are they?” he asked.

“Probably not.”

He shook his head. “That’s scared the shit out of me.”

“Me too.” Just seeing the bullet, the brass shining, pointed and deadly, would always stay with me. “I think it’s time to drop this story.”

He raised his eyes to mine. “Are you sure?” He tried to sound doubtful but I could hear the hope in his voice.

“Yeah,” I said bleakly. “I’ll tell Rob on Monday. He wouldn’t want me to carry on after this, anyway.”

We didn’t eat; neither of us had an appetite. We hardly said anything during the evening, both of us avoiding conversation, not even sure how to start talking. Even if we’d begun, the bullet would still have stood between us, growing larger with each minute until it filled the room.

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