Marcus sighed and settled back in the leather. “Go ahead.”
I said, “We’ll let you talk to Emma about setting up a camera crew in the bus station, with all the cables and lights and mirrors and stuff.”
Marcus sat up, “I get it! In front of the locker.”
“Very good, young Padewan,” I said.
Marcus stood up, “That’ll be great, especially since I didn’t get any good footage today.”
“Hey,” I said, “You got me covering ground like a cheetah. That should pump up the ratings.”
Marcus coughed, then said, “I better get going.”
After he left I said, “I’ll sleep in here.”
“It’s okay,” Hondo said, “I’ll be fine here.”
“All right. Tomorrow we look in the locker, and then we do a little offense on them.”
“We’ll see how they like playing defense for a while,” Hondo said.
“Amen, Brotha.”
CHAPTER 13
That night about three AM, I woke up thirsty. I walked down the dim hall toward the kitchen and as I turned the corner beside the dark granite island, I glanced into the living room and stopped, still in shadow.
Hondo and Jett sat very close together on the sofa. Hondo leaned against one armrest and had his hand resting on the Kimber .45 on the end table. Jett sat next to
him, her face turned so she could see his profile. Her stare was intent and even from here, I could see her longing. I stayed quiet so as not to intrude.
Jett leaned to Hondo and kissed his cheek, then rested her head on his shoulder. Hondo put his arm around her and held her, as gentle as I have ever seen him do anything, except for holding a dying friend during a bad time in our past. Hondo kissed the top of her head and let his cheek rest there.
I backed from the kitchen on silent feet and returned to my bed. I had never seen Hondo like that with a woman in all the years I’d known him. I thought about them until I finally drifted off to sleep.
The next morning I was up in the pre-dawn light. Everyone else was still asleep. I slipped on my clothes, then tiptoed through the house and went out the side garage door so as not to disturb Hondo and Jett, asleep on the couch. Hondo’s hand was still on the Kimber.
It was one of those good mornings with a cloudless sky and no hint of smog. The sun was a rind of color on the eastern horizon and I faced it, feeling its subtle warmth.
I walked along the path to the front porch and looked up and down the street. Nothing out of the ordinary. I turned and started back to the garage, and that’s when I saw them. Goosebumps popped up on my skin.
Huge footprints, sunk deep in the landscaping soil below the picture window. Shadows pooling in the depressions made them all the more ominous. I looked closer. The prints were enormous. Maybe a size sixteen, eighteen sneaker, and at least three inches deep in the sandy loam. I stepped beside it. My imprint was an inch deep.
I looked at the glass on the picture window and noticed that as I moved my head to angle the light, there were small smears high up on the glass, maybe seven feet or so off the ground. They were near the small parting of the interior curtains.
I felt cold sweat break out on my face. Magilla Sykes stood right here, spying on us.
No, not on all of us, but on Hondo…and Jett, in the living room. I checked the neighborhood again, looking for any sign of the giant but I saw nothing. I turned back to study the window.
The smears were subtle and I had to make sure I held my head to the side so the light’s angle revealed them. Two smears to the left of the curtain opening were his forehead and the tip of his nose. Another smear on the right side showed his enormous palm and fingers as if he was balancing against the glass.
There were a couple of smaller, longer tracks below the forehead and on each side of the nose smear, looking like raindrops had hit and run down the glass. But they weren’t all over the glass, just here, below where Magilla’s face had been. They were cloudy, not clear, and the two tracks paralleled down the glass, leaving a dried trail to where the drops finally stopped and evaporated.
I touched my index finger to my tongue, then to the dried drop, then to my tongue again. Salt.
Magilla Sykes, the most terrifying, fearsome human being I had ever seen in my life, was crying while he watched Hondo and Jett.
“Oh, shit,” I whispered.