Read Online at First Sight (2008) by Stephen Cannell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephen Cannell
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jumped into the car, and--God help me--I put it in Drive and inched forward to run over him again, parking the rear wheel on his chest for almost a full minute before pulling off.
Then I got out, ran around the car, and looked down at him again. His eyes were open, but they were no longer bright. They were lifeless--shiny, but vacant. Dark and cold as an empty house.
I'd never seen a dead man before, but it was obvious to me that's what he was.
My survival instincts took over. I looked around the empty parking lot for a witness.
Nobody. At least I didn't see anyone.
I climbed into the car and squealed out of the lot.
"Oh, shit. Oh, shit, oh shit," I moaned, my thoughts a blur as they kaleidoscoped across the event.
I drove for a mile, then pulled over, leaned out, and threw up into the street. I couldn't even begin to get my mind around it.
I didn't know how all this had happened or why. Didn't have a clue.
Had I driven all the way down here just to kill Chandler Ellis, never admitting to myself that was what I was going to do until I did it? Is that why I followed Chandler instead of staying out in front of their house to watch Paige through the window? Did I plan to murder him all along? Did I hit Drive instead of Reverse by mistake, or did I do it on purpose?
You see now why I'm writing all this down. You see why I'm so confused.
I didn't have a clue. I still don't.
But read on. It only gets worse.
Chapter 10
WHEN I WAS SEVEN, MY GRANDMOTHER USED TO DRAG me to church every Sunday, and after the service she'd make me sit through Sunday school. Even then biblical stories seemed a bit like comic books in their simplicity. I was always bored out of my gourd. Complete waste of time. Almost none of it stuck, but I do remember a few odd religious facts. For instance, Proverbs 27:4 teaches that "Wrath is cruel and anger is outrageous, but who can stand before envy?" Damn good question, especially in light of what just happened.
I had envied Chandler Ellis, envied him for his looks and his money and for the fact that he seemed to reject all of the meaningless things that in my conscious mind I knew were unimportant, but that seemed to dominate me viscerally. I had spent my life lusting after nonsense. Power symbols like a large house in the status-heavy six hundred block of Elm, or important friends, expensive cars, designe r c lothes, and gaudy accessories. I had a wife with a killer body, who, I admit, I had long ago tired of making love to, but who still turned heads. It was enough for me that other men lusted for her. She was a sexual benchmark attesting to my powers in the bedroom. Being married to a body like that gave me status on the West L . A . cock exchange--identified me as a world-class swordsman. But all these symbols of success, power, and sexual prowess still failed to satisfy me or give me a moment of inner peace.
I wanted to be envied for my status symbols, and sometimes, I was. But even when I saw envy in the eyes of others, it wasn't enough. It felt empty because there were always guys like Chandler Ellis, who had more and seemed to care about it less. I envied him because he seemed to fit so tightly inside his skin, comfortable and full of grace, while I wore my hide like one of my dad's garish sport coats.
But most of all, I envied his relationship with his wife. I envied the way Paige looked at him when she held his hand. Envied that look of love and adoring devotion that she focused on him every time he spoke. So what happened may not be entirely my fault, at least not if you believe the Bible. Maybe I really couldn't help myself, because as Proverbs clearly states, "Who can stand before envy?"
I no longer envied Chandler Ellis. Instead, I'd killed him. Turned him into Charlotte, North Carolina's latest hit-and-run statistic. And' I'd accomplished this in a split second without even knowing I was doing it. Then I ran over him a second time, making sure the job was finished, destroying any
Then I got out, ran around the car, and looked down at him again. His eyes were open, but they were no longer bright. They were lifeless--shiny, but vacant. Dark and cold as an empty house.
I'd never seen a dead man before, but it was obvious to me that's what he was.
My survival instincts took over. I looked around the empty parking lot for a witness.
Nobody. At least I didn't see anyone.
I climbed into the car and squealed out of the lot.
"Oh, shit. Oh, shit, oh shit," I moaned, my thoughts a blur as they kaleidoscoped across the event.
I drove for a mile, then pulled over, leaned out, and threw up into the street. I couldn't even begin to get my mind around it.
I didn't know how all this had happened or why. Didn't have a clue.
Had I driven all the way down here just to kill Chandler Ellis, never admitting to myself that was what I was going to do until I did it? Is that why I followed Chandler instead of staying out in front of their house to watch Paige through the window? Did I plan to murder him all along? Did I hit Drive instead of Reverse by mistake, or did I do it on purpose?
You see now why I'm writing all this down. You see why I'm so confused.
I didn't have a clue. I still don't.
But read on. It only gets worse.
Chapter 10
WHEN I WAS SEVEN, MY GRANDMOTHER USED TO DRAG me to church every Sunday, and after the service she'd make me sit through Sunday school. Even then biblical stories seemed a bit like comic books in their simplicity. I was always bored out of my gourd. Complete waste of time. Almost none of it stuck, but I do remember a few odd religious facts. For instance, Proverbs 27:4 teaches that "Wrath is cruel and anger is outrageous, but who can stand before envy?" Damn good question, especially in light of what just happened.
I had envied Chandler Ellis, envied him for his looks and his money and for the fact that he seemed to reject all of the meaningless things that in my conscious mind I knew were unimportant, but that seemed to dominate me viscerally. I had spent my life lusting after nonsense. Power symbols like a large house in the status-heavy six hundred block of Elm, or important friends, expensive cars, designe r c lothes, and gaudy accessories. I had a wife with a killer body, who, I admit, I had long ago tired of making love to, but who still turned heads. It was enough for me that other men lusted for her. She was a sexual benchmark attesting to my powers in the bedroom. Being married to a body like that gave me status on the West L . A . cock exchange--identified me as a world-class swordsman. But all these symbols of success, power, and sexual prowess still failed to satisfy me or give me a moment of inner peace.
I wanted to be envied for my status symbols, and sometimes, I was. But even when I saw envy in the eyes of others, it wasn't enough. It felt empty because there were always guys like Chandler Ellis, who had more and seemed to care about it less. I envied him because he seemed to fit so tightly inside his skin, comfortable and full of grace, while I wore my hide like one of my dad's garish sport coats.
But most of all, I envied his relationship with his wife. I envied the way Paige looked at him when she held his hand. Envied that look of love and adoring devotion that she focused on him every time he spoke. So what happened may not be entirely my fault, at least not if you believe the Bible. Maybe I really couldn't help myself, because as Proverbs clearly states, "Who can stand before envy?"
I no longer envied Chandler Ellis. Instead, I'd killed him. Turned him into Charlotte, North Carolina's latest hit-and-run statistic. And' I'd accomplished this in a split second without even knowing I was doing it. Then I ran over him a second time, making sure the job was finished, destroying any
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