Read Online Judged by E. H. Reinhard - Free Book Online

that?” Mrs. Belford asked.
    “How long will your appointment be this morning?”
    “Oh, around an hour. Just a little therapy and a checkup today. I’ll have them phone you when I’m ready to be picked up.”
    “Okay, I don’t think I have anything else pressing, so I’ll be in the parking lot, waiting. And you wanted to stop at the drug store on your way back, correct?”
    “Yes, I’ll need to pick up my prescriptions after.”
    “Okay,” Tim said.
    He put on his turn signal to pull into the medical facility and drove to the covered entrance. Tim put the van in park and hit the button to open the sliding door and extend the ramp. He rounded the nose of the van to the passenger side, opened the door, and unhooked the safety straps securing Mrs. Belford’s chair. She backed up, made a Y-turn inside the van, and pulled down the ramp that extended from the sliding side door. Mrs. Belford stopped a few feet from the ramp’s end. Tim hit the button inside to retract the ramp and close the sliding door.
    “Have them call me when you’re finished, Mrs. Belford.”
    “I will, Timothy. Thank you.” She powered herself toward the clinic’s entrance.
    Tim returned to the driver’s seat and pulled into the parking lot to wait. He turned on the radio, set the volume low, and leaned back in his seat. Within minutes, he nodded off. The late nights of surveillance and righting wrongs were catching up with him. Tim woke to his phone chirping from his pocket—he rubbed his eyes, yawned, and pulled it out to answer.
    “Hello.”
    “Mrs. Belford is ready to be picked up,” a woman said. “She’ll be down in a few minutes.”
    Tim looked at the radio’s clock. He’d been asleep just over an hour.
    “Sure. Thank you,” Tim said. He clicked End on his phone and tossed it onto the dash. The word vigilante caught his ear from the radio’s speakers. Tim turned the volume up. The disc jockey was talking about another body being found in Liberty City—Quincy Hightower. It seemed the broadcast was being sent to the scene for an update. Tim turned the volume louder. He glanced out of the passenger window and saw Mrs. Belford appearing from the sliding doors of the clinic.
    “Shit,” Tim said.
    He stayed put and listened to the broadcast airing live from the scene. Mrs. Belford waved at his vehicle. A man was speaking on the radio—an FBI agent speaking about a task force being assembled and leaving no stone unturned. Tim continued to listen for another minute or two. The man mentioned additional help assigned to the investigation. Apparently, capturing him was now the FBI’s number one priority. Tim stared out the passenger window at Mrs. Belford, who waved at him again.
    Tim pulled the gear selector down into reverse and backed from his parking spot. He pointed the nose toward the clinic’s front doors and idled through the lot. The FBI agent went on to remind the city that the so-called vigilante was a common criminal, guilty of multiple murders, and in no way shape or form any kind of hero. Tim flicked the radio volume down and pulled under the covered entrance, where he stepped out and loaded Mrs. Belford. After that, he pulled away.
    “Sorry about that, Mrs. Belford,” he said. “I didn’t see you out there. Guess my eyes are getting bad.”
    The woman smiled. “They’ll get worse. Believe me.”
    “So, on to the drug store then?” Tim asked.
    “Yes. I have two scripts that need to be filled.”
    “Sure.” Tim pulled from the clinic.
    “Can you turn the radio up a bit?” Mrs. Belford asked. “It sounds like they’re talking about the vigilante.”
    “You’ve been paying attention to the news, huh?”
    “Since they started reporting on it. I’ve been following it daily.”
    The broadcast had gone back to the studio. The disc jockey was giving his opinion, which sounded scripted and neutral. The radio went to a commercial. Tim reached out and turned the volume back down.
    “What do you think?”