Read Online Rusty Nails (The Dade Gibson Case Files) by Jason Brannon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jason Brannon
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catch up with.”
Looking into those tired, red-streaked eyes, Dade suddenly felt like sitting down. It had been many, many years since he had seen that look of disapproval, but he hadn’t forgotten what his father’s scorn felt like. Luckily, there was a leather-backed chair for him to fall into.
“Dad?” he said, confused. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
His father smiled at his son’s reaction. “A lot’s changed since we last spoke.”
His father’s hair had thinned considerably, and the salt-and-pepper of memory had turned almost entirely to salt. Even his hands, once strong and steady, showed how old the man was getting. The Styrofoam cup shook as he held it and tried to bring it to his mouth. The last time Dade had seen him, Jack Gibson was the picture of health. Now, it seemed, the picture had faded a bit, the glowing flesh tones of yesteryear paling to a chalky white.
“I actually wondered if you would speak to me when I got here. We didn’t part on such good terms.”
“A lot of years have passed since our problems,” Dade said.
“Yes, I suppose they have. And maybe that’s been for the best.”
“Why are you here?”
“You’ve made quite a reputation with the clerics and rabbis in the neighboring cities,” Jack said proudly. “Makes a father’s chest swell when he hears the sort of stuff they’re saying.”
Dade shrugged his shoulders, not really knowing what to say. This was totally unlike the father he had known and deserted.
“They say you’ve done some work for clients that aren’t exactly what you would call normal, everyday people. Your cases are a little unorthodox and slightly off the beaten path. Am I right?”
Dade was reminded of the woman whose daughter had been possessed by the spirit of a Nazi general. “I’d say that would sum it up pretty well,” Dade said.
“I want to hire you.”
Dade didn’t know what to say.
“I was wrong about lots of things when Jane died,” his father continued. “I called her crazy because of the things she saw. I suggested we institutionalize her. Said she was delirious.”
“What’s done is done,” Dade said with a sigh. “You can’t undo the past. It’s best if we move on with our lives and the matter at hand. Now what is it you need me to do?”
“I need you to kill someone for me,” the old man said.
“I think you may have misunderstood just what kind of business I’m in,” Dade said, more than a little stunned. “I’m not a hit man. I’m an investigator.”
“This is a special request,” Jack said. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it weren’t important.”
“Surely, you’re kidding.”
The old man shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
Dade slammed both hands on his scarred desk. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. You haven’t had any contact with me in ten years and now you just waltz in and expect me to forfeit the rest of my life for you. Well, it doesn’t work like that. I’m not killing anybody.”
“I know you won‘t let me down,” Jack said. It was almost as if he hadn’t heard anything that Dade had said.
“What is going on? Are you in some kind of trouble? Why would you even ask me such a favor?”
“You wouldn’t understand if I told you. Just trust your old man for once.”
“Trust you? Not likely.”
“Here’s your mark,” Jack said pulling a Polaroid out of his coat pocket. “I’ve heard too many good things about you to expect failure. Don’t let your old man down. Put a bullet in his head. Poison his Fruit Loops. Run over him with your car. I don’t care. Just kill him. I’ll be in touch.”
Dade watched in amazement as Jack Gibson walked nonchalantly out of the room and down the steps. Everything had happened so fast it might have all been a dream. But the photo was there to anchor him to reality. Dade looked at it hesitantly and gasped at what his father was demanding of him. Yes, over the years Jack Gibson had been cruel. And yes, even a little
Looking into those tired, red-streaked eyes, Dade suddenly felt like sitting down. It had been many, many years since he had seen that look of disapproval, but he hadn’t forgotten what his father’s scorn felt like. Luckily, there was a leather-backed chair for him to fall into.
“Dad?” he said, confused. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
His father smiled at his son’s reaction. “A lot’s changed since we last spoke.”
His father’s hair had thinned considerably, and the salt-and-pepper of memory had turned almost entirely to salt. Even his hands, once strong and steady, showed how old the man was getting. The Styrofoam cup shook as he held it and tried to bring it to his mouth. The last time Dade had seen him, Jack Gibson was the picture of health. Now, it seemed, the picture had faded a bit, the glowing flesh tones of yesteryear paling to a chalky white.
“I actually wondered if you would speak to me when I got here. We didn’t part on such good terms.”
“A lot of years have passed since our problems,” Dade said.
“Yes, I suppose they have. And maybe that’s been for the best.”
“Why are you here?”
“You’ve made quite a reputation with the clerics and rabbis in the neighboring cities,” Jack said proudly. “Makes a father’s chest swell when he hears the sort of stuff they’re saying.”
Dade shrugged his shoulders, not really knowing what to say. This was totally unlike the father he had known and deserted.
“They say you’ve done some work for clients that aren’t exactly what you would call normal, everyday people. Your cases are a little unorthodox and slightly off the beaten path. Am I right?”
Dade was reminded of the woman whose daughter had been possessed by the spirit of a Nazi general. “I’d say that would sum it up pretty well,” Dade said.
“I want to hire you.”
Dade didn’t know what to say.
“I was wrong about lots of things when Jane died,” his father continued. “I called her crazy because of the things she saw. I suggested we institutionalize her. Said she was delirious.”
“What’s done is done,” Dade said with a sigh. “You can’t undo the past. It’s best if we move on with our lives and the matter at hand. Now what is it you need me to do?”
“I need you to kill someone for me,” the old man said.
“I think you may have misunderstood just what kind of business I’m in,” Dade said, more than a little stunned. “I’m not a hit man. I’m an investigator.”
“This is a special request,” Jack said. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it weren’t important.”
“Surely, you’re kidding.”
The old man shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
Dade slammed both hands on his scarred desk. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. You haven’t had any contact with me in ten years and now you just waltz in and expect me to forfeit the rest of my life for you. Well, it doesn’t work like that. I’m not killing anybody.”
“I know you won‘t let me down,” Jack said. It was almost as if he hadn’t heard anything that Dade had said.
“What is going on? Are you in some kind of trouble? Why would you even ask me such a favor?”
“You wouldn’t understand if I told you. Just trust your old man for once.”
“Trust you? Not likely.”
“Here’s your mark,” Jack said pulling a Polaroid out of his coat pocket. “I’ve heard too many good things about you to expect failure. Don’t let your old man down. Put a bullet in his head. Poison his Fruit Loops. Run over him with your car. I don’t care. Just kill him. I’ll be in touch.”
Dade watched in amazement as Jack Gibson walked nonchalantly out of the room and down the steps. Everything had happened so fast it might have all been a dream. But the photo was there to anchor him to reality. Dade looked at it hesitantly and gasped at what his father was demanding of him. Yes, over the years Jack Gibson had been cruel. And yes, even a little
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