Of That Day and Hour: A psychological thriller Read Online Free PDF Page B

lifetime of bitterness, and sadness in his voice. “Who’s
going to listen to me?”
    “Give me a chance.”
    “We’ll see.” Jeff feels the
irony, that it’s Casey who doesn’t trust him, if that’s really the case? “It's
round about time for me to leave. It’s funny isn’t it? We don’t have long
together, yet I have all the time in the world. It’s been nice talking to you.”
    Casey rises to his feet
moments before the steel door opens and the guard walks in. He tips his hand up
in farewell, with a smile, then turns his back. He walks a few paces and
pauses, turns back round.
    “I almost forgot, I’m sorry
about your work. Now that you’re here they won’t let you go.”
    “My work?”
    Casey smiles and walks out
of the room humming softly to himself. Jeff stands, a puzzled expression on his
face, then dismisses Casey’s parting statement as simply a terrorist plot of
the mind. When he exits the room, though, he appears paler to Eve than when he
first walked in.
    “He does hold court well,
doesn’t he? Are you alright?”
    “Of course.”
    “First impressions?”
    “A classic psychotic. He
feels persecuted by others, so he needs to be in control, no empathy for his
victims. Shooting them in the head was his compassion.”
    “You’ll get used to him.”
    “I’d rather not.” Jeff needs
to rule out Casey’s story. “Is there any evidence for his version of events?”
    “No, the reports say it's a
complete fabrication. By the time they had a technical analysis of his blood,
to determine the presence of narcotics, it was inconclusive. Investigators
believed he must have been pulled over by the cops for driving on a flat tire,
and then rampaged as they tried to help him replace it.”
    “That sounds plausible. It's
like he wears a mask we can't see behind; he'll try to destroy our lives if we
let him. Our vulnerabilities, values, everything we care about, anything we
have an emotional attachment to, we'll have to guard. His lies are to misdirect
and confuse.”
    “So now he has us both to
play with, to try to untangle us as we untangle him?”
    “He has.”

 
    The drive back in the car
leaves them both aware of the uncomfortable silence between them. Eve decides
enough is enough.
    “Is there any truth in what
he said to you?”
    “Which part?” Jeff covers
his emotions, but knows what’s coming next.
    “Do you lose sleep?”
    “Do you still love me?” He
can hear the expectation in his voice.
    “I asked first.”
    Eve’s giving nothing away.
“See? He’s already initiated tension between us. We have to be smarter, give
him nothing to feed off.”
    “We didn’t in the first
place. Any concern we display will play into his need for emotions. Any emotion
will do as long as they are in response to his actions.”
    “And his knowing?”
    “There will be a rational
explanation.”  
    “Come on, let’s shake him
off, I’ll take you to Al’s”.
    “Al’s?”
    “All American diner. They
serve up a mean burger.”
    “And the onion rings?”
    “Deep fried 'n' crispy.”

 
    The all-chrome diner
glistens like a beacon in the sun, a solitary oasis, a landmark. Al’s name is
emblazoned by the side of the highway on a large red neon sign. The black
Camaro turns in and gently rocks over the uneven ground, to pull up alongside
the dusty old pickup out front.
    “A traditional diner way out
here?”
    “He gets by with passing
trade, plenty of land for trucks to park.”
    “And no competition to worry
about.”
    “None, and the best thing
is, they pull off some great food. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
    There’s something Jeff loves
about opening chrome doors, and walking towards a quintessential stool-lined
chrome counter, with a checkerboard floor underfoot. He’s unsure at first if
the diner has been outfitted with retro fifties red and white booths, or if
they're original. The leather is worn, but not that worn. A Wurlitzer jukebox
takes center stage, its