Darkness of the Soul Read Free Page A

anyway.” There was a note of resignation in his voice, and Parker knew that he’d get his help; the only question was if it would do any good or if he was hurting his old friend more than he was helping by coming to him with this.
    “Yeah, I want coffee, dickhead.” Parker’s lips spread in a bit of a smile. At least Drakanis was well enough to fall into their old patter. That had to count for something. How much, Parker would find out, he guessed. Pulling himself up from his position on the floor, he winced and grunted. One hand went to his back and rubbed at it while he lurched into the kitchen and let himself fall into one of the crappy little chairs surrounding the crappy little card table. His eyes were bright as he watched Drakanis go through the motions of prepping the coffeepot, again apparently, since what had been in there that morning was now barbecued black sludge at the bottom of the pot. He had a deep look of concentration on his face as he reset the timer on it.
    Drakanis, for all his other talents, was not a particularly technical person; and he’d always been of the opinion that a coffeepot didn’t need more switches than his goddamn PC, but he’d also been too lazy to go buy a cheap replacement. Once he’d finished fussing with the coffeemaker, he settled into a chair across from Parker and glared at the man.
    “Quit looking at me like that, man. Like I said, I’m fucking retired; didn’t you get the memo?”
    He shook his head and then buried his face in his hands, groaning. Parker watched him with a look composed of equal parts contempt and concern and blew his nose between his fingers, giving it a good scrub before speaking.
    “Yeah, I got that fucking memo, Mikey, and I didn’t fucking care for it either.” Though the tone was conversational, Drakanis could hear the undercurrent of irritation in it and knew that there were storm clouds brewing in Parker’s brain, ready to unload on the first thing that pushed him too far.
    “But,” he continued, “memo or no, you and I both know you’ve got this thing going on, that way of tapping in. I need that. Ain’t no other way this is gonna get resolved, and you know it.” He spread his hands and managed half a grin, displaying his crooked teeth. He then glanced around, hooked a dirty saucer from the microwave stand, and started rummaging in his pocket for the pack of Salems.
    “Do you have to do that in here?”
    “What? Blow my nose? Fuck you. It’s stuffy in here, Mikey.”
    Drakanis lifted his head back up. He arched a brow and tried to summon a glare but failed miserably. He had to admit, having Vince around did feel better than sitting there talking to himself all day, and except for the fact he was wearing blues instead of a suit— And what’s up with that anyway? He get demoted again, or is he just playing at being a beat cop today? his mind asked—it was almost like old times. It just lacked the yelling kid and the exasperated wife.
    Parker’s only response to the glare was to flick a match against the table, put the fire to one of the few battered survivors of the pack—he’d had to dig around in the cruiser’s glove box to find this one, and God only knew how long it had been there—take in a deep drag, and just watch Drakanis through the smoke. Finally, he broke, as Parker had known he would.
    “Oh, fuck it. Gimmie one of those.”
    Parker nodded and shot the pack across the table. “Where’s my coffee then?”
    “Screw coffee. I need the nicotine. So tell me.” Drakanis rocked the chair back, propped himself against the table with one knee, and watched as the smoke curled between the two of them, trying to ignore the faces he swore he could see blooming in it.
    “Screw the coffee? C’mon, man, I come all the way out here, all dressed up—”
    “Yeah, what’s up with that anyway?”
    Parker muttered to himself, ashing into the saucer and shaking his head. “Tony’s got a stick up his ass again, decided to