Read Online Dead Roots (The Analyst) by Brian Geoffrey Wood - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brian Geoffrey Wood
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still darkness.
Tom could hear heavy rain lashing against the windows of the hotel room. The blinds were drawn, and for now, he remained in bed.
Through his barely open eyelids he took in the room. Closed maroon blinds and nice wooden furniture. Really quite Western in appearance, all things considered. He was on a queen bed facing a flat screen television. Everything was off-- lights, TV, he'd even unplugged the hotel phone. He looked over at the clock. It was 6:49 p.m. He could still sleep another two hours.
*
Suddenly two hours had passed. His phone was blowing up on the dresser.
“God damn it.”
He sat up. The cool air hit his naked form, causing him to wrap the blanket over his back. The LCD lit up and Tom had two new messages: one from Margaret, one from Artie.
Tom stood up and threw on one of his new undershirts and the same dirty pair of boxers. He cursed himself for not picking up a fresh pack. He made his way to the kitchen, navigating to his messages while making a cup of complimentary coffee.
You can probably handle him. Just be ready to keep up, Margaret had written helpfully. The timestamp said it had been sent at some point during the incident in the limousine.
Getting ready now. How much coffee do I need? He wrote back playfully. Sorry for the late reply, had a fracas on the ride over. He'd need to report the incident to Margaret later, but paperwork could wait.
Artie had sent him a message about an hour ago. What are you doing tonight?
Tom muttered to himself. He punched back a reply.
I'm in Tokyo, remember? Meeting Keda's boss. Can't make it back to drink tonight. Sorry.
He set the phone down on the counter and poured the boiling water into a mug. The coffee aroma rose up into his nose as he added sugar and milk, then took a sip. It wasn't bad. He could make a decent mug of coffee out of just about anything, when he needed one. He made his way to the couch and sat down in front of the TV. Switching it on and sipping his mug, he flipped through some channels idly. Most of it was in Japanese. A couple of anime, some sports, some news. He managed to find an American news network and let the TV stay there. At least it was English.
“--In headlines tonight, more missing person reports have come in from Orchard, West Virginia. Police from the town of eight thousand say they are now searching for as many as four missing individuals. The disappearances are believed to be in relation to the disappearance of Susan Bailey, the fifteen year old that was taken from her home in early February...”
Tom groaned. He'd heard the Susan Bailey story before. He was simultaneously baffled, and yet soberly disdainful of the fact that it was getting so much coverage. He wondered privately if it would have been such a media circus if the kid had been black, or a Muslim. Or both. Some fat, mustached cop turned up on the TV to give a statement and Tom was already bored. He stood up to go to the bathroom.
Tom's phone buzzed again on the counter. He idly picked it up and continued into the toilet. He unlocked the keypad while sitting down to relieve himself. Another text from Keda. Going back through them chronologically, Keda had been reminding him each hour since five that their meeting was at ten o'clock. It was just about nine now. Tom needed to be downstairs.
Waiting in the lobby. Where are you?
Shaving. Be down in ten.
He stood up from the toilet, and unwrapped a single-use razor from in front of the rectangular mirror. He leaned forward and examined himself. His angular cheeks were ridden with stubble, giving him a fledgling beard. He regarded his short bangs and the hair hanging around his ears and wondered if he should get a haircut. Taking the razor, he scraped off some of the stubble, but left enough to give his jawline and lip some definition. Ashley had always liked the beard, and back then, so had he. Maybe he could grow to appreciate it again.
Throwing on some clothes in the bedroom, he
Tom could hear heavy rain lashing against the windows of the hotel room. The blinds were drawn, and for now, he remained in bed.
Through his barely open eyelids he took in the room. Closed maroon blinds and nice wooden furniture. Really quite Western in appearance, all things considered. He was on a queen bed facing a flat screen television. Everything was off-- lights, TV, he'd even unplugged the hotel phone. He looked over at the clock. It was 6:49 p.m. He could still sleep another two hours.
*
Suddenly two hours had passed. His phone was blowing up on the dresser.
“God damn it.”
He sat up. The cool air hit his naked form, causing him to wrap the blanket over his back. The LCD lit up and Tom had two new messages: one from Margaret, one from Artie.
Tom stood up and threw on one of his new undershirts and the same dirty pair of boxers. He cursed himself for not picking up a fresh pack. He made his way to the kitchen, navigating to his messages while making a cup of complimentary coffee.
You can probably handle him. Just be ready to keep up, Margaret had written helpfully. The timestamp said it had been sent at some point during the incident in the limousine.
Getting ready now. How much coffee do I need? He wrote back playfully. Sorry for the late reply, had a fracas on the ride over. He'd need to report the incident to Margaret later, but paperwork could wait.
Artie had sent him a message about an hour ago. What are you doing tonight?
Tom muttered to himself. He punched back a reply.
I'm in Tokyo, remember? Meeting Keda's boss. Can't make it back to drink tonight. Sorry.
He set the phone down on the counter and poured the boiling water into a mug. The coffee aroma rose up into his nose as he added sugar and milk, then took a sip. It wasn't bad. He could make a decent mug of coffee out of just about anything, when he needed one. He made his way to the couch and sat down in front of the TV. Switching it on and sipping his mug, he flipped through some channels idly. Most of it was in Japanese. A couple of anime, some sports, some news. He managed to find an American news network and let the TV stay there. At least it was English.
“--In headlines tonight, more missing person reports have come in from Orchard, West Virginia. Police from the town of eight thousand say they are now searching for as many as four missing individuals. The disappearances are believed to be in relation to the disappearance of Susan Bailey, the fifteen year old that was taken from her home in early February...”
Tom groaned. He'd heard the Susan Bailey story before. He was simultaneously baffled, and yet soberly disdainful of the fact that it was getting so much coverage. He wondered privately if it would have been such a media circus if the kid had been black, or a Muslim. Or both. Some fat, mustached cop turned up on the TV to give a statement and Tom was already bored. He stood up to go to the bathroom.
Tom's phone buzzed again on the counter. He idly picked it up and continued into the toilet. He unlocked the keypad while sitting down to relieve himself. Another text from Keda. Going back through them chronologically, Keda had been reminding him each hour since five that their meeting was at ten o'clock. It was just about nine now. Tom needed to be downstairs.
Waiting in the lobby. Where are you?
Shaving. Be down in ten.
He stood up from the toilet, and unwrapped a single-use razor from in front of the rectangular mirror. He leaned forward and examined himself. His angular cheeks were ridden with stubble, giving him a fledgling beard. He regarded his short bangs and the hair hanging around his ears and wondered if he should get a haircut. Taking the razor, he scraped off some of the stubble, but left enough to give his jawline and lip some definition. Ashley had always liked the beard, and back then, so had he. Maybe he could grow to appreciate it again.
Throwing on some clothes in the bedroom, he
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