God Told Me To Read Free Page B

the result of crying. But another idea occurred.
    “Are you into drugs, Harold.”
    “I don’t do that. I don’t hang out with those kind of people.”
    “Do you know why you did this today?”
    The shy smile stretched. Harold’s face took on the look of a very young child trying to hold back some wonderful secret.
    “I want to come up now.”
    “That’s a good idea, Harold. Take my arm and I’ll help pull you up. Then we’ll crawl to the other side of the tower and go down that side. We’ll both be safe.”
    Nicholas took hold of the boy. He seemed to weigh very little and Nicholas lifted him easily. It was almost as if the boy floated. He still wore his secret smile as he swung over the edge. Nicholas assumed the smile and wet eyes were outward signs of insanity. But there was an eerie quality about them. He got the feeling they were trying to tell him, or remind him, of something.
    He asked, “What is it, Harold? Why did you do this?”
    The boy shook his head, as if silently saying, You certainly ought to know. He leaned forward and softly said:
    “God told me to.”
    Then Harold stood to his full height, took a single short step and leaped from the tower. His body cleared the roof of the building and he dropped without a sound to the pavement.

TWO
    Despite the amount of beer he had drunk, Peter Nicholas did not sleep well. He tossed fitfully and once during the night he was aware he was trembling and felt Casey’s arms around him, comforting him.
    He rose early and stood under the shower for a long time. He ran the water at a temperature too hot for comfort. His skin was aching when he switched to cold water, and his heart was pounding heavily by the time he finished. The blade of his razor was dull and pulled at his beard. He gave himself a deep nick. He used a plaster of wet toilet paper to stop the blood and he slapped his cheeks with astringent.
    He was nearly dressed when he remembered the Deputy Commissioner ordering him to stay off the job today. He changed to more casual clothes than he wore at work. He selected a lightweight corduroy jacket with leather elbow patches. This jacket had been bought specifically because it looked like something no cop would wear. Nicholas enjoyed his work but since he was basically a loner, he avoided being with other officers when not on duty. He thought a slightly different mode of dress helped separate him from them.
    He went to the closet. He reached into the pocket of the jacket he’d worn yesterday and took out a rosary. He put the rosary into the pocket of today’s jacket.
    He stood at the mirror and combed his dark, medium-length hair. By now the toilet-paper plaster had dried on his cheek. He pulled it loose and the wound reopened. He put a finger to the blood. He licked his finger, then pressed a clean handkerchief against the cut.
    He made coffee and was nursing a cup of it when Casey joined him at the table. She was in her bathrobe. Though he had not been consciously thinking about anything, Casey’s presence struck him as an intrusion.
    Casey asked, “How do you feel?”
    He shrugged in answer.
    “For somebody who doesn’t like to see himself on TV, you made quite an exception.”
    “Me, superstar.”
    She poured coffee for herself. They sat quietly until she asked, “What happened on that roof, Peter?”
    He frowned his displeasure at her question.
    “Peter, you spent the whole night kicking like a colt. Now you can’t just sit there and let it eat away at you. I want to help you. Don’t shut me out.”
    “What happened? That’s what everybody asked me. Jordan—that super backup man—he finally climbed the tower one second after the kid went over and that’s the first thing he asked. It’s what the captain wanted to know. The Deputy Commissioner and the reporters. They all kept asking and when we were back at the station, I blew up. The kid jumped, Casey, but in God’s name I don’t know what happened.”
    “You were talking with