They Can’t Take Your Name by Robert Justice

Author:Robert Justice [Justice, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crooked Lane Books

ASCENT

It was 2 AM, and Eli was standing in the alley across the street from one of Denver’s high-rise apartment buildings just a couple of blocks from the 16th Street Mall. As he looked up, he could see the dim glow of light in one of the twentieth-floor apartments.

Slager was awake.

Eli crossed the street and opened the large glass doors leading into the lobby. He was surprised not to find a concierge at the desk or a night-time attendant snoozing in his chair. Still, he was cognizant of potential security cameras, so he kept his head down and his hat low, hiding his face.

The lobby was posh. Polished granite floors reflected the chandelier lights. Eli studied his face in them as he walked, head down. On his left was a spacious seating area like that of an upscale hotel lobby. Couches and tables provided workspace and gathering areas. Two fireplaces framed the room, and in the back corner there was a door that led to a private theater room.

How does a city detective afford to live in a place like this?

Eli made his way to the bank of elevators, and after filling his chest with air, he pressed the elevator button. He could hear the low din of the gears as they summoned the mirrored carriage from the floors above. Eli, still trying to hide his face, peeked out from beneath the brim of his hat to check his reflection in the brushed-silver doors.

At the sight of himself, doubt crept close, and he was even more unsure of his plan than when he was outside looking up at Slager’s window.

When the doors slid open, Eli was grateful to find the elevator empty. He pressed the button and the doors closed; his stomach signaled that the twenty-floor climb had begun.

I hope he doesn’t call the police. He is the police, will he arrest me? Worse?

He hoped that he could appeal to the humanity he’d witnessed as he crouched outside the confessional so many years ago. There’d been a glimmer of a man who knew right from wrong. He’d confessed to a priest for a reason. While Eli believed Slager had murdered Father Myriel, there was a moment when he’d considered a different path. Eli hoped to help him see that path again.

The gears accelerated.

Eli fingered the beads on his bracelet.

Kyrie Eleison.

The elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened like the curtain to a Broadway show, revealing an entryway with a wrought-iron chandelier suspended from the high ceiling. Cherrywood floors prepared to meet his feet as he stepped out into the hallway.

Six residences occupied this floor. Slager resided in a prime corner apartment with a view of Pikes Peak. Eli had discovered this after asking Fredricka for another favor.

“You already owe me, Mr. Stone. Are you sure you want to increase your debt to me?”

Eli turned to the right.

Lifted his head high.

You should have done this a long time ago. For Father Myriel. For Langston. For Liza. No turning back.

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