Schism

Chapter 17 part 3

The smell was there before she got to the door, again.

She stretched a hand forward around the frame and the door pushed inward.  He was still inside.  She knew who it was, but letting Harold know that wouldn't get him out of her apartment any faster.  And, admitting that she could smell him would just spark the predictable questions about her other senses being sharper to compensate.  Jess didn't need superhuman powers to smell the gasoline cloud that followed Harold.

"Hello?  Who's there?" she asked.

There was a rattle from the far side of the living room, metal on metal.  Was that tools being dropped into a tool box?  Then she heard Harold's voice.  "Uh, hi.  Miss...Jessica.  It's me."

"Harold?"  She turned up her firm voice, but only part way.  She'd always had the hunch that cornering the little man would make him angry.  "You scared me.  Please, I need to know if you are planning to come into the apartment." 

She waited.  There was a long pause before she heard another clank from his tools.  His voice was quieter when it came.  "Sorry.  I...I was just finishing.  Radiators...it's getting cold."

Jess knew she'd have to back off.  "Oh, thank you, Harold.  That's kind of you.  I really appreciate it."  She stepped into the apartment, pushed the door open wide as she moved to one side and put her bags down.  She heard a quieter clatter from the tools, knew that Harold must have stood up.  His footsteps plopped across the floor in his flat footed walk.

His breath was loud as he stopped in the door way, near her.  "Uh.  I..." 

Jess waited.  He didn't speak, but she could hear the fabric of his jacket rub against itself and the rattle of the tools.  He must be fidgeting.  What was he doing?  Whatever it was, she knew it was best to stop it.  "Oh, Harold, I have a big favor."

"Yes?"  The eagerness in his voice nearly made her cringe.

"Could you keep an eye out for any strangers around the apartment building?  Not the man who's been here already, the detective, but anyone else."

She waited.  Harold didn't answer.

"Harold?"

"Uh, yes.  Sure," he said.  His voice was fast and sounded nervous.  She realized he must still be thinking about something to do with her.

She stepped back, opened the door wider.  "Thanks.  Have a good night."

He walked past her, out the door.  As she began to swing it shut, she heard his voice.

"Uh...you...Friday night...you, uh?"

Her heart rate doubled and Jess fought to keep any reaction from her face.  He was asking her out.  That's what it was.  She felt her cheeks warm and knew that she was blushing.  He would see that.  But would he understand why?  He could probably take anything as encouragement.  She pushed her dark glasses higher up her nose and forced a smile.  "Oh, Harold.  I'm sorry.  I already have a date Friday night."

"Oh.  Of course."  She heard him step further into the hall.

"Good night, Harold," she said and closed the door.  She listened and his footsteps hurried down the hall.  She reached for her purse and pulled out her cell phone.  Detective Mickelson, Bryan, had given her his cell phone number, and an offer of help.  Now she had to take him up on it.

 *

Bryan stopped when his phone vibrated.

He moved the folder to his other hand and pulled it out.  The area code was local.  He looked at the number.  It was Jessica.

His thumb hovered over the slider on the screen, ready to unlock it, but he stopped.  He wasn't more than a block from William.  What could those voices hear?  Could they hear her on the other end of the phone, or would they simply just pull the information from his mind? 

He didn't want to find out.

Bryan silenced the phone and put it back into his pocket, but didn't start walking again.  The vision, or whatever it was, from William and those three things was more proof than he needed.  Those things that William saw and heard were real.  What they were, Bryan still had no idea, but he had seen them and heard them himself.  He figured that was reason enough to run out of the alley like a spooked animal, but now he had to take the time to think it through. 

With one deep breath in his lungs, Bryan knew it wasn't seeing those things that had made him run from William.  It had been the fire.  The vision was more than he had ever seen of that night.  He had memories of trying to get through the smoke and fire to help his family, but he didn't trust them.  They could be imagined.  But in what William had given him, he'd seen the building on fire, felt the heat from it, itched at the smoke in his lungs.

Or had those been William's lungs he had felt in the vision?  It had been William's memory, from his point of view.  He'd been inside William's experience.  But still, what the memory had sparked was all his own.  The pain of the loss was newer and stronger than it had been in years.

Unconsciously, his hand went to his watch, but he caught the movement, realized he was going to it for comfort.  He wore it constantly now, but before the fire, before he lost Claire and the baby, he hadn't worn it at night.  He had always left it on the kitchen counter with his wallet and keys.  But it had been in his hand when he'd come to in the ambulance.

In the vision, William had pressed the watch into his hand.  It had been a Father's Day gift the spring before the fire.  William had known that Bryan would need it.

But there was more than that.  He had known that Bryan would need help now.  That must have been why William had come to the diner the night before, not only to meet, not only to stop the gunmen at the restaurant together and to save the couple from the racists, but also to help protect Jessica.

And then, Bryan had a thought.  What if William wasn’t only there to help Jess, but was also there to help Bryan heal?  And if so, did Bryan even want the help?

The sight of the fire had brought back so much pain, but he had to look back at it.  He opened the folder in his hands to one of the crime scene photographs.  It was a picture of charred bricks, ash…nothing else.  It had taken over a year, but he had gotten used to the photos.  He could get used to seeing the fire itself.  But he didn't know if he could get used to the possiblity that if William could show him that, he might be able to show him more, that Bryan might be able to see his wife and son the way Mei had seen her son.  He hoped not.  That would make the pain even more real and present.  He turned and walked back to the alley.  He slowed as he turned into it, cautious.  William was sitting against the wall, thermos in his hand.  "You're still here," Bryan said.

The man looked up at Bryan, held up the thermos.  "They said you were coming back."

Bryan sat down.  "You remember me?" he asked.  William nodded back.  "Sorry I didn't remember you.”

A smile stretched slowly onto William’s face.  "You were unconscious."

It was another joke.  Bryan couldn't remember the last time someone had really sat and joked with him.  Meyers had been supportive, but always seemed careful, as if Bryan might shatter and crumble at the wrong word.  And, he knew the newfound respect from some of the other detectives was only a temporary blessing of celebrity.  It wasn't genuine.  It wasn't like this man next to him, who was simply giving him shit because that's what men do with their friends.

He set the folder down in his lap.  "Can I get your help with something, or do you have to go beat the crap out of somebody?"  William smiled again and took the folder. 

(Author’s note: Thank you everyone for reading and thanks in advance for your comments and votes.  I hope you’re having a great time with William and Bryan as they start to work together on how to stop the fires and save Jessica and their city.  And, just to let you know…there’s a really big clue about those fires in the next chapter as two bad guys come together and it shapes the direction of the rest of the book.  So…I hope you enjoy it!  Also, please check out my site for more links, writing tips and information!  www.bruce-elgin.com )