Read Online From the Ashes by Jeremy Burns - Free Book Online Page B

attempt to comfort her, to comfort himself, and, in some small way, to absolve himself of some of the guilt he felt over his recent jealousy toward her.
    The breakfast rush was tapering off, and Mara grabbed a booth while Jon ordered their food. Five minutes later, Jon returned with two sausage-egg-and-cheese biscuits, two orders of hash browns, a coffee, and a Coke.
    “Breakfast of champions,” Jon announced as he set the food on the table.
    Mara stared at him. “Uh huh.”
    “Eat up,” he urged as he grabbed a biscuit from the tray.
    Mara took a hash brown from the tray and began to pick at it, putting the morsels in her mouth in slow, detached movements. Jon was halfway through his biscuit – he hadn’t even realized how hungry he had been – when he noticed Mara’s demeanor.
    “Not hungry?”
    “Hungry.” Mara dropped her hash brown onto the tray. “Just no appetite.”
    “Mara, you gotta eat. When Mom died, Dad just retreated into his research. Didn’t eat, didn’t let Michael and me help him through the pain. He just isolated himself in his misery. He lost twenty pounds that he didn’t have to lose, and he almost had to be put in a hospital to boost his electrolytes intravenously. If we’re gonna get through this, we’re gonna have to keep our strength up. Emotionally and mentally we’re shot, but if we start wasting away physically...” He let the thought hang in the air between them. Hoping it would give her some impetus to keep pushing on. But, as Jon knew all too well, it was damned hard.
    “I know. I just...” She drifted off. An uncomfortable silence filled the void.
    Jon looked at his biscuit, then back at Mara. “You want to talk about it?”
    “God, Jon, it was horrible.” Her words tumbled out in an avalanche of emotion. “I was supposed to drive him to the airport. Eight a.m. My first morning as an engaged woman, sending my husband-to-be off on a big adventure. But when I got there, he didn’t answer. The apartment was quiet, and the peephole was dark. I figured he had gotten another ride, or perhaps overslept, but he would have let me know if he didn’t need me to pick him up, and he never would have missed this trip. I tried calling his cell, but there was no answer. And I heard his ringtone from inside the apartment. I thought he might be in the shower or something, so I used my key to get in.”
    Jon raised his eyebrows and took a long pull of air. All this was too much for him, but regardless, it was where they were. And as distasteful as the story’s ending was sure to be, Mara needed to tell it. And Jon needed to hear it.
    “But everything was wrong,” she continued breathlessly, as though the story had been kept inside her for too long and now was forcing itself out of her mouth. “It was too dark, like some supernatural shadow had been draped over the room. I called his name, making my way toward the bedroom, and then my voice caught in my throat as I gagged on a scent I’d never smelt before. One I hope never to smell again. I wanted to run away, just flee that apartment and never look back. But I couldn’t. So I went to the bedroom. Forced myself not to gag as the smell became stronger. I opened the door and... His head... so much blood. Blood everywhere.” She took a few quick heavy breaths, as though she were beginning to hyperventilate. Then she composed herself and continued. “The police are calling it suicide, but—”
    “But no freaking way,” Jon finished her sentence through a mouthful of sausage, egg, and biscuit.
    Mara snorted a quick laugh despite herself, which quickly gave way to the prevailing frown. “Yeah. No way.”
    Jon swallowed and shook his head. “I didn’t even know Michael owned a gun.”
    “He didn’t, at least not legally. Certainly none that I knew of, but the cops say he could have gotten it from any number of illegal dealers around the city. Which I don’t doubt that he could have, but I have serious doubts that he would.