Silent Echo Read Online Free PDF Page A

Hell, even better than brothers. We talk about anything and everything, and joke with each other like old frat buddies. Yes, Numi jokes. I don’t see it very often now, but when I do, well, I don’t soon forget it.
    Numi has taught me much. He taught me to let people be. He taught me to relax. To calm down. To not be so aggressive. Silence speaks louder thanwords. All of this he taught me by example. I learned much from him, and I still do.
    But now, our friendship has morphed into something else. I need him in ways that I still can’t admit. We both know I need him. I cannot get through the day without him, or someone like him. And I doubt there are many like him.
    And here he is now, waiting calmly for me, his life on hold while my own deteriorates into nothing. If he could hear me thinking such thoughts, he would tell me to be positive, man.
You can beat this, cowboy.
    These days, I do not have the strength or energy to even be negative. These days, I just am.
    I hear footsteps approaching from outside the hall. Numi glances up casually. A moment later, an old colleague of mine steps through the doorway. Detective Dobbs is a big man who sports a robust cop mustache. He sees me, pauses only slightly, and then sits behind the conference table opposite me. No handshake. I barely even get a nod.
    “Booker,” he says, using my last name. “You’re, ah, looking good.”
    “For a corpse,” I say.
    He sits back, studies me. “Are you, ah, still sick?”
    “Even sicker.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    He fidgets with a folder he’d brought with him. His mustache, I think, might have fidgeted, too. It’s Olivia’s case folder. I see her name and case number on the tab. My good friend, my lost girl, has been reduced to a case number on a detective’s manila file folder.
    Detective Dobbs is about my age. About my height. About my same complexion, too. But the way he’s looking at me now, you would think I am something distasteful and slightly less than human. Or maybe he had some bad sushi for lunch.
    He says, “How’s your friend, Noobi?”
    I get this question a lot. My friend is gay. It’s easily noticeable for those who look. What people look for, I don’t know, but it seems like people just
know
. They assume I might be gay, too. They also assume that I got the disease from Numi, which is false.
    “Numi,” I correct. “And he’s fine.”
    “He’s not, you know, sick?”
    “Sick with AIDS?”
    He shifts his eyes. He knows he’s treading in unfamiliar waters here. “Er, yes.”
    “Numi and I are friends only, detective. And the last I checked, it’s nearly impossible to give a friend a sexually transmitted disease unless said friends are having sex, in which Numi and I do not indulge. He’s not my type. He’s too big and scary. Also, I’m not gay.”
    Numi, of course, hears this and shakes his head. I see a small grin appear on his face. I grin, too.
    Dobbs says nothing. My detective friend and I used to shoot the shit for many minutes before we ever got around to discussing our common cases. As a specialist who finds the missing, I’m often in contact with local police and homicide units, especially when the missing turn up dead.
    “Right, sorry,” he says. Dobbs cracks his neck. Cracks his knuckles. It’s been many months since I’ve last seen him. Perhaps longer. Hell, it’s been over a year since I’ve actually worked a case.
    I say, “But I’ll let him know you asked about him. I’m sure it will make his day.”
    “Just drop it, Booker.” He opens the file in front of him. “What’s your interest in the Olivia Dutch case?”
    “Her husband is a friend of mine.”
    I don’t say what my additional interests are in this case. First is that Olivia was also my friend. And my additional interest is, of course, my brother. Dobbs had not worked Matt’s case, as it had been nearly twenty-two years ago. Most of the detectives on the case have long since retired, although I kept in