The night had been long and restless. Helen’s locksmith had come to replace his lock at her expense, and after he left, Logan was finally alone. He slept for only a couple of hours, mostly because the same thoughts just kept swirling around in his mind. Logan knew he couldn’t hunt this killer unless his daughter really was still alive. He also knew he couldn’t find out about his daughter for sure unless he exhumed her grave.
That was where the pain came in.
In the early hours of the morning, he took a long and directionless walk to clear his head. It did nothing to help. Chicago looked beautiful at night, but it was still full of these kinds of people – killers, kidnappers, and other kinds of scum. He would relocate if the rest of the world wasn’t exactly the same.
When he made it back to the apartment block, something was wrong. It was a sense he got when he trod up the stairs, and the shouting grew from a distant echo to a nearby bellow. Logan arrived at his floor and saw the man immediately. He was a skinny thing with tight biceps and rounded shoulders. His hair was hanging by his face in long strands that were slick with grease. He pounded on Maggie and Jenny’s door, howling through the wood.
“Let me the fuck in, or you’ll be sorry!”
Logan stood in the dark hallway, waiting to be acknowledged. When that failed, he cleared his throat and let the man know he was there. The man turned and studied him, looking up and down his huge body, seemingly unafraid.
“What’s your problem?” he asked.
“Are you bothering them?” Logan returned.
“I want to speak to Maggie.”
“Then you might want to try a little respect.”
“What did you say?”
The man stepped away and came toward him, pushing his chest up against Logan’s. Far behind him, the door opened. Maggie poked her head around the corner. The man didn’t seem to notice, which was good.
“It’s time for you to leave,” Logan told him.
“What are you, her dad?”
“I’m her friend.”
“Yeah? Well, you tell that bitch that I decide when it’s over.”
“You might want to rethink your phrasing.”
“Why’s that?”
“Like I said, I’m her friend.”
The man glanced behind him then, seeing Maggie but no longer interested. It was like he wanted the challenge, and with everything going on in his own life, Logan was more than happy to provide. Seeing no other way out, he sighed and got ready.
The attack was fast and powerful. Logan started with two quick jabs to the ribs, feeling a crunch as his knuckles connected. The man bent over, stepped back quickly, then took a chance at a running punch. Logan sidestepped it easily, caught his fist, then twisted it far up his back. The man whined like a baby, his high pitch like a whistle.
“I want you to apologize to the lady,” Logan said, guiding him toward Maggie, who was standing red-faced in her doorway. She folded her arms and waited, hunching and hiding under her own fallen hair.
“Fuck you,” the man said.
Logan lifted his arm higher up his back. Even he felt the resistance.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry!”
“Good girl,” Logan said. “Now tell her it’s over.”
“It’s over. I swear, it’s over.”
“Good job.” Logan then walked him over to the stairs and gave him a hard shove, releasing him just in time for him to reach the banister. The man stumbled, missing a few steps while his feet tried to catch up with the fall. He found his balance halfway down, his hair now matted to his face with sweat. He took one last look at Logan, then disappeared down the stairs.
Riled up, Logan returned to the hallway. Maggie was standing in her doorway, waiting for him. He kept walking, not ready to go through any more drama. All he wanted was a couple of hours of sleep and some answers to his bigger questions.
Somehow, he didn’t think that would happen.