Read Online Light of Day by Jamie M. Saul - Free Book Online

conversation or company or commiseration; and he did not need Carl Ainsley, poised in the hallway.
    â€œIf it isn’t our very own Bob Cratchett,” Ainsley sang out.
    Jack didn’t reply. He tried to walk around him.
    â€œWait a minute. I think you ought to know, I was a very naughty boy.” Ainsley laughed softly. “Oh, don’t worry, it wasn’t with Miss Mouth. However, one of our esteemed col—”
    â€œNot now.”
    â€œNot even a reprimand?” Ainsley grabbed Jack by the shoulder.
    Jack shrugged off Ainsley’s hand. “I’m having a really bad day.” He tried to sidestep him a second time.
    Ainsley followed him down the hall. “It’s those long hours, Owens.”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œThen what about it? What the hell. We’ll go on over to Chase’s—”
    â€œNot now.”
    â€œCome on. Where’s the famous Owens joie de vivre ?”
    â€œNot—”
    â€œIt’s cocktail time, somewhere in the world.” Ainsley put his hand on Jack’s arm and held him back. “You can even scold me for the roué that you think I am. Come on. One hour, more or less, isn’t going to make a hell of a lot of difference whether or not you and Danny—”
    Introspection is not part of the primitive mind, and when Jack snatched Ainsley by the front of his blue cotton shirt and slammed him against the wall, it was purely primitive.
    He was surprised that Ainsley didn’t resist. Maybe he thought it was a joke; more than likely, though, he couldn’t believe what was happening. But when Jack slammed him a second time, Ainsley grunted, “I’m only having sport with you,” and pulled himself free.
    Jack went at him again, but Ainsley pushed him back and held him at arm’s length. Jack grabbed him by the elbows and swung him around.
    â€œWhat’s the matter with you?” Ainsley cried out, and shoved Jack away. “Cut it out.”
    Jack came at him quickly this time, catching him low and knocking him off-balance.
    â€œCut it out .”
    Jack slammed him against the wall a third time. Ainsley’s head snapped back, his mouth clamped shut.
    If nothing else in these most unfair twenty-four hours was unfair, it was the fact that Ainsley, who had the conscience of a cat burglar, would go home to his son, who was still alive, to a wife who accepted him on his own terms—chilled martini in the shaker, kiss on the mouth—and life would be as it always was. Impulsive and predatory, Ainsley had a son who didn’t ride his bike to the park and tie a plastic bag around his head. Ainsley, himself a son of Nature’s indifference, did not have to go to the morgue and identify the body. He did not have to wait for the medical examiner to perform an autopsy on his boy. His son wasn’t lying on a slab, dead and cold in the dark. For all that, Jack slammed him again, or tried to, but Ainsley pressed a muscled arm under Jack’s chin and shoved him to the opposite wall.
    â€œWhat did I say?” Ainsley cried out. “What the hell is your problem ?”
    The problem was, Jack couldn’t beat up Hopewell for being an unsympathetic, disingenuous functionary. He couldn’t beat up on the medical examiner for dragging his ass in Terre Haute, but he could try to beat up on Ainsley because the unfortunate son of a bitch happened to be standing there. But Jack didn’t say that. He didn’t say anything. He straightened up and walked quickly down the hall. He did not dare look back. He was disgusted with himself, and afraid of what he might do next.
    Eileen was standing in the doorway when Jack got back to his office. She said, “Maybe you should go home. Please, Jack. I’m worried about you.”
    â€œI’ll be all right.”
    â€œThen I’ll stay with you.”
    â€œThere’s nothing you can do here. Please. I need to be alone now.