The Law of Nines. Terry Goodkind

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СКАЧАТЬ trying not to sound angry, even though he was getting angry.

      She let out a low, breathy chuckle. “Oh, I’ll make sure you can, Alex. Don’t you worry about that. You just get yourself home and let Beth take care of everything.”

      “I’m visiting my mother.”

      “I think I can throw a better party. Promise. Just come give me a chance to make your birthday something you’ll never forget.”

      “My mother is in the hospital. She’s ill and not doing well. I’m going to be sitting with her.”

      That finally threw Bethany into silence for a moment.

      “Oh,” she finally said, the sexiness gone from her voice. “I didn’t know.”

      “I’ll call you later,” Alex said. “Maybe in a few days.”

      “Well,” she said, sounding uncertain and reluctant to end the conversation so quickly, “I’m sure your mother is going to need to get her rest. Why don’t you call me later today, after your visit?”

      Somehow, it didn’t sound quite like a question. It sounded more like an instruction. He hadn’t wanted to have this conversation—not at the moment, not sitting there with his mother—but Bethany was giving him no choice.

      “Look, the truth is I don’t think I’m the guy for you. You’re an attractive woman, you really are. There are a lot of guys who like you. I think you’d be better off with one of them instead of me. You’d have a lot more fun with them, with guys who are interested in the same things that interest you.”

      “But I like you.”

      “Why?”

      “I don’t know.” She paused a moment. “You get me hot,” she finally said, falling back on her lusty voice, as if lust was magic that could banish any objections. He imagined that it very well might with most men, but he wasn’t most men.

      “I’m sorry, Bethany. You’re a nice enough person, but we’re just not right for each other. It’s as simple as that.”

      “I see.”

      He didn’t say anything, hoping that she would leave it at that and not decide to make it ugly. It wasn’t like they’d been seeing each other for any length of time. There was no reason to make a big deal out of it. It had been a couple of dates, nothing more. He’d kissed her a few times. That was it. She’d made it clear that he was welcome to go farther, to go as far as he wanted, but something had made him keep her at arm’s length. Now he was glad he had.

      “Alex, I’ve got to go. I need…I need to think about this.”

      “I understand. You think about it, but I think it’s best if we go our separate ways.”

      He could hear her breathing for a moment; then, without a further word, she hung up on him.

      “Good,” he said under his breath as he used his thumb to push the phone back into the pocket of his jeans.

      He glanced over at his mother. She stared unblinking at the ceiling.

      Alex picked up the TV remote when he saw another report about the two murdered Metro officers. The place they’d been found was a good dozen miles from where he had met Officers Tinney and Slawinski earlier that day.

      It shook Alex to realize that the two men were dead. If he found it shocking, he could only imagine how horrifying the news had to be for those close to them.

      Both men had seemed so competent, so in control. He’d seen them for only a few minutes, but it seemed impossible to think that both of those men could be dead. The swiftness of such a thing left Alex feeling shaken and even more depressed.

      He envied people who enjoyed their birthdays.

      Just then his phone rang again. He was reluctant to answer it, thinking it would be Bethany with a list of grievances over her hurt feelings and wanting to rant at him, but when he checked the small exterior display window it said OUT OF AREA.

      Alex flipped open the cover and put the phone to his ear. “Hello, this is Alex.”

      Weird, garbled sounds and disembodied whispers crackled through the receiver. The sounds made his mouth go dry.

      Alex immediately flipped the cover closed. He stared at the phone a moment, then finally slipped it back in his pocket.

      The sounds had been so unusual, so haunting, that he distinctly remembered hearing them before. It had been the call he had gotten earlier, just as he had been about to leave his grandfather’s house, just after he had learned about the land that came to be his on his twenty-seventh birthday.

      He remembered that he’d gotten the call right after he had thought that someone had been looking at him through the mirror.

      It had also been shortly after he had asked if Ben thought he would end up crazy like his mother.

      Alex glanced at the polished metal mirror before looking around at the mint-green room. He wondered if he was destined to end up spending the rest of his life in a place like this, like his mother.

      He wondered how he would know if he had gone crazy. He didn’t feel crazy.

      He bet that his mother didn’t feel crazy, either.

       8.

      WHEN MR. MARTIN CALLED out of the blue, Alex could hardly believe the news. All six of his paintings had sold.

      Holding the phone to an ear with a shoulder, Alex had swirled his brush in a jar of murky water and then wiped it on a paper towel as Mr. Martin asked him to come collect his money. Alex had been deeply absorbed in the work of painting an eerie evening mist along a shoreline of a mountain lake and didn’t want to stop, but Mr. Martin had seemed unusually anxious that Alex get there as soon as possible. He wouldn’t say anything about the person who had bought the paintings, only that they had paid cash and he wanted to give Alex his portion. He had made a weak excuse that he knew Alex needed the money.

      Alex hadn’t talked to Bethany since she’d called him while he had been visiting his mother two days before. Things seemed to be looking up in more ways than one. His truck even started on the first try.

      When he pulled into the parking lot at Regent Center it was early afternoon. The gray sky looked to be a harbinger of an approaching storm. The air had an unusual chill to it, a first breath of the coming change of season.

      Alex parked next to a new Jeep, hoping that his would start again later without a lot of difficulty. With the sale of the six paintings he could certainly afford to get the starter fixed. He had thought to replace the starter himself but he reconsidered; he would need to finish up the painting he was working on when Mr. Martin had called. The gallery would need to have more of his paintings if the buyer should decide to return and collect more of Alex’s pieces, or if another buyer came along. It was far easier to sell paintings and get commissions if there was something on display.

      Before he locked his truck, Alex СКАЧАТЬ