Still wearing his suit and field jacket, Emory Rome sat on the couch in his apartment staring at the only two objects on his coffee table – a bottle of pills and a glass of water. Light from a candle on the kitchen bar and the amber desk lamp strained to reach him, stopping just shy of the bottle’s label. Small ceramic cherubs hanging outside the window kept the silence at bay with gentle taps on the glass.
Emory took a pill from the bottle and swallowed it, chasing it with a swig of water. He tipped the bottle over a second time and emptied its contents into the palm of his hand. This would do it. He stared at the fifty-something powdery white pills.
He heard a faint swoosh and looked toward the front door to see that an envelope had been pushed through the crack underneath. Annoyed yet intrigued, he spilled the pills onto the coffee table and walked to the door. He grabbed the unsealed envelope and pulled from it a postcard with a picture of his thirteen-year-old self at Crescent Lake – before it had disappeared and before the Romes had adopted him. The other side of the card was black with silver writing that read, “Who bears the iniquity of the son?”
“What the hell?”
He opened the door and saw no one there, so he shut it again. He hurried to the window with the hanging cherubs and saw a man in a white ski mask opening the door to a blue sedan parked across the street from his apartment. As if sensing Emory’s gaze, the man looked up at his window, revealing the grotesque red smile stitched onto his mask. Emory ran to the door to try catching the man before he could drive away, but when he swung his apartment door open again, he found Jeff Woodard standing on the other side.
“Is my cologne that strong?” Jeff asked.
“Jeff. What are you doing here?”
The PI was dressed in his usual attire but with a thick woolen scarf coiled around his neck. “I heard what happened to you at the TBI.”
Emory shoved the postcard and envelope into his back pocket. “Can we talk about this later?”
“I’ll be quick.”
Emory held up a finger. “Hang on one second.” Closing the door, he ran to the window, and his shoulders dropped when he saw that the blue sedan was now gone. The pills! He removed his jacket and placed it over the pills before returning to the front door.
Jeff smiled when he noticed that Emory was no longer wearing his jacket. “I see you’ve made yourself more comfortable.”
“What do you want?”
“An invitation inside to begin with.”
“Come in.” Emory waved his hand toward the living room. “How did you know where I live?”
“Jeff Woodard, private investigator. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.” He walked in as he inspected the surroundings. “You have a nice nihilistic Chi going on here. I like it.”
“I’m really busy right now.”
Jeff plopped down on the couch and patted the cushion beside him.
“How are you doing, by the way?” Emory asked as he joined him on the couch.
“My whole body is sore. I slept until noon today. Even then, I could barely get out of bed.” He unwrapped his scarf to reveal the black welts covering his neck. “Oh, and I’ve got like ten dates’ worth of hickeys from Pristine’s damn stun gun.”
“They’ll go away,” Emory assured him.
“I hope so. I don’t think they make turtleneck tank tops.” He touched Emory’s bruised face. “Does it hurt?”
“Not bad.”
“So listen. I have a proposal for you, and before you get excited, it’s not that kind of proposal.”
Emory tried not to, but he ended up laughing. “I appreciate your coming over to check on me, but I’m in no mood to be cheered up right now.”
“Then it’s good that’s not the purpose of my visit. I’ve talked it over with Virginia, and we want to offer you a partnership in the agency.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve convinced Virginia that you would be an asset to the company. I think you’re a good investigator, and under my tutelage, you could be a great one.”
“You think so, huh?”
Jeff’s tone grew serious. “The truth is I…we need you. I’ve had some judgment issues with clients, as you’re aware, and we could use you and your pesky ethics.”
“Look, you can’t hold yourself responsible for what Pristine did. Should you have turned away a gold-digger client looking for a rich husband?” Emory shrugged. “Honestly, yeah. But what she wanted and what you did was not a crime. Even with the best judgment, you can’t know with absolute certainty what your clients’ ultimate motives are.”
“That’s the level-headedness I’m talking about it. We already know what we can accomplish when we work together. So what do you say? Will you join our team?”
Emory didn’t know how to respond. He had never imagined himself as anything but a government law enforcement agent. He stared at his jacket on the coffee table, thinking about what lay beneath it.
He jumped up with his back to Jeff. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” Jeff darted in front of him. “You need a job, and I’m offering you one that you’ll love. Plus, you’ll be working with me. There’s no downside.”
Emory walked past him and opened the door. “I’ll think about it.”
Jeff approached him with a mock scowl. “This isn’t an open-ended invitation.”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Emory insisted with a smile.
Jeff threw his hands up. “Fine. Call me first thing in the morning. First thing.”
“Good night.” Emory closed the door with Jeff on the other side. He returned to the couch and transferred his jacket from the coffee table to the cushion beside him. He stared at the pills for a moment before scooping them up and returning them to the bottle.