Hesitating, he glanced at the policeman’s chest, then finished “...Branson.”
He turned around and started to walk back the way he had come in then seemed to remember something.
“Oh, yes. Officer Branson, I nearly forgot....”
Chet watched him as he quickly came back toward the desk. His hand drifted down to his sidearm in a reflex that was hard to shake after all these years. Any sudden movement and he would start to reach for an arm that had not been pulled on a suspect for twenty years. Only, here...something felt like it was about to turn hinky.
“I have a message for you. From a dear woman by the name of Rosie,” he said as he came close to the policeman.
“Rosie,” Chet repeated vacantly as he watched, fascinated by the man’s mouth. There were just so many teeth.
“Yes...Rosie,” the man said, his voice calm and extraordinarily soothing, “She wants me to tell you that you will be joining her far sooner than expected.”
The man’s dark eyes seemed to grow larger as Chet looked back at him. His revolver forgotten, the policeman could not move as those eyes kept getting bigger and bigger, inviting him in.
“...expected,” Officer Branson mumbled.
“That’s right. But first, we shall both go visit your little unconfirmed guest and see how she’s doing.”
The policeman made no reply nor did he mind as the creature came round the desk to pluck away the keychain fastened at his belt.
Chet felt a nudge from behind as a voice said, “Lead the way, Officer.”
Lurching into motion, he walked away from the front desk and whispered, “Rosie.”
And no one questioned him as he led the tall man down hallways that most innocent people never see. Together, they went back to the holding cells and Chet had no problem with opening locked doors.
He was going to see Rosie. And that was a wonderful thing to know.
They had brought her a meal. Tasteless and dry, she was not even sure what it was pretending to be and the useless plastic spork on the tray left much to be desired.
Sara had barely touched it. She had lost her appetite as the hours had passed and still no one had come to get her out. In particular, no one named Braze.
The thought of it made her sick.
What if they convinced him I did it? she asked herself. A few hours ago, such an idea would have been laughable. But now, with no sign of any rescue in sight, thoughts like these began to worry at her like rats chewing on the ropes of a shipwreck.
She was going to go down. The thing that called itself the Journeyman had decided she was of no more use to him and had hung her out to dry.
The worst of it was that she knew it was true. She had gone too far with Braze. If she ever saw him again, she would tell him...all of it. No detail spared and then she would throw herself at his feet and beg forgiveness.
Perhaps he would be able to forgive her. Or, perhaps, he had already decided he could not.
These thoughts circled round and round in her mind, a thing that spun like a mouse trapped under a glass dome. Turning round in endless circles that served nothing.
She would have liked to sleep. But this too escaped her and she could only hug her sides with her own arms wrapped tightly around her body. The irony of it was not lost on her as she thought how it had only been a matter of hours and it had been his strong arms around her.
Her tears ran when she was sure that she had none left. But apparently they were endless this day.
She heard a sound then. Muffled through the heavy door, Sara heard the distinct sound of keys jingling against one another on a keyring before the lock mechanism of the cell’s door clicked.
The door swung wide and she saw a portly policeman step through the door. His eyes had a strange, empty look to them, then her attention was quickly drawn to the man who followed him.
Tall, elegant...an air of self-assured calm. Sara did not dare to hope, but he looked like he might even be a lawyer.
Maybe Braze had not abandoned her to her fate after all.
Except that all hope disappeared as the man bared his lips in what might have passed for a smile.
Sara knew then. Large, overlong canines lay in that overly wide smile. The kind of teeth meant for piercing the flesh of men.
“Greetings, Sara,” he said in a strong, clear voice, “It’s so nice to put a face to the name after all I’ve heard about you.”
Sara held her tongue. Her situation had gone from bleak to outright ruin in the space of five seconds. A half minute more and she did not doubt that her troubles would no longer bother her.
Again that hideous smile.
“Oh, I’m not here to...” he paused, relishing the moment, then said “...rub you out.”
He chuckled and pushed past the overweight policeman who only stood there staring blankly at the wall.