Blood Red

Maybe it was the coffee, but the notion of Brian Freemont walking around with anything that could be used to coerce Danni a second time made his jaws clench together.

By three in the morning, he was ready to begin. Ben took one of the seven pay-as-you-go cell phones that he had purchased earlier in the day and activated as he ate dinner, and he plugged his modem into the jack provided. He worked with the speed and precision of a surgeon and began cutting away pieces of Brian Freemont’s life.

He was done less than an hour later. He carefully wiped down the cell phone and wrapped it in a paper bag before slipping it into his jacket pocket. Then he stepped out of the apartment, looking for a random trashcan and a decent meal.

The good news for him was that there were several diners open, even in the darkest part of the night. He found one without too much difficulty and sat down in one of the booths that were supposed to be reserved for two or more people.

The waitress, Sally, didn’t seem to care that he was breaking the rules, and neither did he. She promised him that the sausage and mushroom omelet was a work of art and he trusted her.

He hadn’t even finished a third of the very early breakfast when Margaret Preston came into the place.

Sally looked at the girl and smiled. “Hey, hon, how’re you tonight?”

“Hi, Sally.” Margaret’s smile was a thing of beauty, and Ben forgot all about the food in his mouth as she walked toward the booth across from his.

“You want your usual?” The woman didn’t wait for an answer, but instead moved to grab a cup of coffee and brought it over to her. “I was just telling Ben over here that the mushroom and sausage was the best omelet in the house.”

He managed to swallow the lump in his mouth as Margaret looked in his direction. Amazing, he couldn’t breathe, but he still got the food down without dying on the spot.

“So how is it?” Margaret Preston was speaking to him. He had absolutely no idea how to respond without sounding like a complete idiot.

Words! Come on, words! You can speak, I know you can! “Umm . . . I think Sally’s right, actually.”

Margaret nodded and gratefully took the cup of coffee Sally offered her. “She normally is.” Margaret looked away and he felt his ability to think come back as her eyes left his. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

Sally chuckled. “So, the usual then.” The waitress walked toward the counter that separated them from the kitchen and called out for an encore of the last order. Someone behind the wall made a comment that had her laughing as she moved to another table that she had claimed as her own.

Ben looked back in Margaret’s direction and saw that she was looking at him again. He wanted to crawl under the table and hide, but felt that might be socially awkward.

“You’re in my Lit class, aren’t you?”

She was talking to him again. It was really not a comfortable thing for him to deal with. Like as not, she’d expect him to answer.

“Um. Yes. Same class.” Nope, not his best witty response.

“Did you get the notes from last Friday? I can’t remember what we were supposed to read.”

Shit. Now she was asking questions that required thought processes that were functioning. “Lord Byron. There’re four examples of his work in there. We’re supposed to take notes on the symbolism.”

“I love his stuff. God, the man knew how to write.” Her voice was wistful and her eyes had a faraway look that seemed one part wishful thinking and one part exhaustion.

Ben nodded hard, remembering her expression when she found the poem he’d written down for her. He knew she loved Byron’s work. He also knew that “She Walks in Beauty” must have been written about a girl who looked exactly like the one he was trying hard not to stare at.

“So what are you doing out this late at night, Ben? I thought I was the only one crazy enough to live without sleep.”

He grinned, thinking about what the faceless cop he’d decided to target would be doing in a few hours. “Hunting.”

“What are you hunting?” He loved to watch her face. She had a thousand expressions that he had never seen, because she wore so few of them at school. She was intrigued by his one word answer, and maybe amused, too. It was hard to tell, because, of course, he didn’t really know her. He just loved her. The two did not always go hand in hand in the world of Ben Kirby.

Okay, he was a little more socially awake now, and maybe even a little less intimidated by her presence, so he thought before he answered. “I am hunting revenge and a way to make a friend of mine smile again. She has a nice smile. I like to see it.”

Margaret Preston rose from her booth across from his and slid into the seat on the opposite side of his table. He managed not to dance where he was sitting, or even to let out a scream of pure delighted terror, but only because having her sitting this close was enough to stun him for a moment.