Read Online House of Skin by Jonathan Janz - Free Book Online Page A

 
    Paul shrugged. “I don’t remember. It was a place outside Memphis.”
    “How late?”
    “Around six, I think.”
    “Describe the man and the gas station.”
    Carver paused. “Do I need a lawyer?”
    “I don’t know,” Sam said. “Do you?”  
    “I haven’t done anything wrong, if that’s what you mean.”
    “You said that earlier. Descriptions?”
    “Oh man,” Paul said, and gave Barlow the details he could recall.
    The sheriff continued asking him questions as they moved toward the lane, Barlow scribbling his answers on a small notepad. Sam said he’d be in touch, climbed into the cruiser. Just as he was about to key the ignition, a thought occurred to him. He got out of the car.
    Barlow said, “The reason why you and I will never be best buddies has nothing to do with you and everything to do with things that happened years ago. You say you never met Myles Carver. Fine. You say you were told that you take after him.” He moved up close and pinned him with his eyes. The two were the same height, but Sam was much broader. He felt Carver shrink against the car.
    Sam said, “If you’re like your uncle, things aren’t going to be good for you. Not with me, not with anyone else.” He tapped Paul on the chest. “You better hope you’re nothing like that son of a bitch.”  
    With that, he turned and moved back to his car. After he’d started the engine, he said out the window, “But like I said, none of that’s your fault. It’s just better that you know where you stand. Some things a person can’t forget.”  
     
     
    “You seem distracted, Honey.”
    Julia glanced up from the computer screen. Below her gray hair, Bea’s face was a fretful mask. “Did something happen to you last night?” she asked.
    Julia thought of the man in her basement. Her mind flailed, grasping for something believable.
    “I was going through my old sheet music, and I happened to come across part of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony. He was my mom’s favorite.”  
    “Oh, you poor girl.” The older woman cupped her chin. Julia could smell the rosewater on the woman’s clothes. “I hate that you’re all alone.”  
    Looking up at her, it wasn’t hard for Julia to despair. She had no idea what to do about Brand.
    “Thanks. You’re a good friend,” Julia said.
    “Oh,” Bea waved it off. “You don’t need a friend. What you need is a husband.” The librarian turned and recommenced her labeling of the new magazines.
    Julia said, “Can I ask you something?”
    “Of course.”
    “You kid me about turning into an old maid. Do you really mean it?”
    “Of course not.”
    “You sure?”
    “I don’t know if I feel like talking about something so serious before lunch,” Bea said, looking back at her. “Does this somehow relate to your mother?”  
    “No,” Julia said and stared at her feet. “Not directly.”
    “Because you know she was quite a beauty.”
    “I know.”
    “And you’re even prettier.”
    “Come on.”
    “So the chances of your becoming an old maid are slim. Unless,” Bea glanced at her watch, “you spend all your time here with a boring old woman.”
    Julia looked at the clock. “We don’t close for another couple hours.”
    “No. But you’ve been acting strange all day. Why don’t you take off early?”  
    “Bea, you really do act like my mom sometimes, you know that?”
    “Well, someone has to.” The woman grimaced, realizing her gaffe. “Anyway,” she hurried on, “you know we’re never busy on Tuesdays. And since I know you won’t let me drive you home when we get done, you should at least do me the courtesy of taking the rest of the afternoon off.”  
    Julia scratched the back of her neck, debating. She was anxious to get home but mustn’t act it. “I don’t know.”
    “I insist. With the weather as clear as it is this afternoon, no one’s going to waste their time at the library.”
    Julia thought about arguing, remembered that the sedative had