Read Comes a Horseman for Free Online

never sat there. In this hour before bed, he liked to roam. At first, over a year ago, he’d varied his meandering. Now, it always followed the same course: living room, dining room, kitchen, den . . . then along a hallway, through a small foyer, and back to the living room, where he’d start the next leg of his circuit. One hundred eighty-four steps. Ten leisurely laps. Plenty of time to think.
    Following his routine, he prefaced tonight’s stroll with a visit to the teak credenza that contributed the majority of the lemony polish smell to the room. Crouching, he opened a door panel and withdrew a crystal decanter of bourbon and the only crystal glass the cabinet contained. He set them on the marble top. He and Karen had seldom imbibed. When they did, their preference was wine, an occasional beer. But this was different. Medicinal, he told himself. A sleep aid. Just two fingers.
    As a criminal psychologist, he knew all too well the dangers of seeking respite at the bottom of a bottle. He splashed the amber liquid into the glass with the fatalism of a junkie filling his veins with a narcotic he knew would someday kill him. Okay, four fingers. He didn’t have to drink it all. He took a sip and felt the fire burn its way to his stomach. At least he wasn’t used to it yet. He had chosen bourbon because it was just so awful, like sucking on the planks of an old barn. He didn’t want to enjoy it.
    With glass in hand, he breathed deeply and took step number one of the first 184.

    THE CLOCK’S shrill alarm cut through the haze in his head, jolting him upright. Eyes closed, he reached for it, but it wasn’t there. The noise stopped anyway. This puzzled him for about a millisecond. Before his addled brain could drift back to oblivion, it shrilled again. It was on his chest. No, in his shirt pocket. And it wasn’t the alarm clock; it was his cell phone. He frantically dug it out of the pocket and opened his eyes. He was in the living room, sprawled on the sofa. It was still dark outside, but the moonlight, which earlier had given the sheers a silvery radiance, was gone. The house seemed preternaturally dark, an unlit stage awaiting the day’s first flip of a switch.
    Brady glared at the phone’s glowing screen. The words seemed indistinct, the screen’s illumination too bright. He closed one eye and brought it closer to his face. He made out the name Alicia Wagner and her cell phone number. He hit a button.
    â€œHello?” he said, trying to sound as though his tongue hadn’t doubled in size and grown hair. Silence. “Hello?”
    He looked at the phone. He’d hit the wrong button, cutting off the incoming call. Figures . His head rotated on creaking tendons to see the crystal drinking glass, nearly full, perched on one of the sofa’s fat leather arms. He wasn’t sure what number refill that was, but he felt confident he’d gone past four fingers. He jumped when the phone in his hand rang again. Concentrating, he punched the answer key and repeated his greeting.
    â€œDid you hang up on me?” Alicia’s voice battered against his eardrum.
    â€œWhaddaya mean?” He managed to sound more indignant than befuddled.
    â€œI must have hit a dead pocket. Cell phones. Did I wake you? Stupid question. I hope I didn’t wake Zach.”
    She was in one of her excited states, which were always work-induced. Something was happening.
    â€œWhat time is it?”
    â€œUhhhh . . . 1:10. My time. Ten after three for you.”
    Brady moved the phone from his ear and pushed the button that lowered its volume. When he put it back to his ear, she was saying, “. . . believe it? So soon?”
    â€œWhat’s so soon?”
    â€œBrady! Where are you? I just said he struck again ! It’s been only two days since the last one. Hold on—”
    He heard a horn blare and what may have been tires squealing.
    â€œAlicia . . . ?”
    She came back