The Family Man

Chapter 17

I was running late by the time I had checked out of the hospital and changed from the taxi to my car. The night afforded me ample time to think, trying to piece together the events that led to Eric's gunshot wound and subsequent death. It was all real, that much I knew. Maybe I could have screwed up the vital signs, but not the blood pumping out of the hole in the chest. A strange anger was brewing as I drove to Terence's office. That someone had the gall to die on me, then not be dead, was frustrating. No one should be put through that much pain needlessly.

The police cars were not what I expected when I drove up to Terrance 's building. There were three with lights turning, blocking the far right lane. Two other unmarked sedans were a slanted oddly toward the curb between the marked cars. I had to park half a block away and weave through a small crowd of gawkers that had gathered near the foot of the building.

"The building is closed," a female officer announced before I reached the first step that led to the entrance. She didn't look pleased with her duty of guarding the entrance.

"I had an appointment." As if that mattered to the cop.

"With who?"

"Terrance Higgins." The officer's eyebrows went up. She pulled the radio off her vest and signaled for me to wait as she stepped just inside the door.

"Your name?" she asked, poking her head out.

"Natalie. Natalie Livingston." She returned inside and continued a quick radio conversation I couldn't make out.

"If you'll wait in the foyer, a detective Robertson will be down to talk with you," she said when she returned. She held the door open for me.

"What happened?" I asked, now questioning whether I should have mentioned the appointment.

"Not sure," the woman said, her frustration evident, "Just know I have to play doorwoman. Suspect it's serious with all the gold badges around." I headed inside and sat on the only wooden bench available, an uncomfortable blocky thing that looked like it was as old as the 50-year-old building. I didn't have to wait long.

"Ms. Livingston?" A man in black pants and a white button-down shirt and tie asked as he hit the bottom of the stairs. He was carrying a red envelope and wearing latex gloves.

"Yes," I answered, standing. "You're Detective Robertson." He nodded and signaled I should sit back down. I did, and he joined me.

"May I ask what business you had with Mr. Higgins?"

"What happened?" I asked, wanting some reference before I began answering.

"I'm sorry," Robertson said, "I should have told you right off. Mr. Higgins died last night." He watched me closely as if he was expecting a particular reaction. I steadied my one hand with the other and tried to relax my jaw.

"How...how did he die?" I stuttered. I felt a growing grief, not unlike when I watched Eric die, but not as powerful.

"By someone else's hand," Roberston said, again examining my reaction. I was horribly uncomfortable. I hadn't known Terance well and the last time we spoke I was less than cordial. My mind was already cluttered and was now adding grief driven guilt. "Your name was the only one in his appointment book, and it was circled twice."

"Personal business," I stammered, not wanting to tell the world of my vampire paranoia. "I'd rather not say."

"That is, of course, your right. But you have to look at it from my perspective. I have a job to do, and today that's finding out who murdered Terrance Higgins. I have a calendar with your name on it, circled twice. Without your help, I have to pursue the lead in other ways." It was a threat, and we both knew it. Guilty by appointment book.