Unforgettable Read Online Free PDF Page A

as he wiggled down the walk way.
    The night dragged by so slowly I
thought I’d go insane.
    About eight o’clock I made dinner and
turned on the television. I was asleep by eleven.
    I wasn’t sure why I awoke. Everything
was quiet…until the front door handle moved. Just up and down one
time. Just a tiny rattle. Just the sound that could mean he was
here.
     
    Ted and Gabrielle watched
their daughter and the monster hovering outside her
door.
    Welsh touched her doorknob.
Ted shone red eyes into his face scaring him. Welsh left, almost
running back to his apartment.
    "Ted, what if we can't keep
him away?"
    "We'll find a way...we'll
think of something."
    He held his wife and closed
his eyes.
     
    Saturday
     
    I was amazed that when I woke it was
ten o’clock. I never slept that late. Saturday was my laundry day
so I piled my clothes into my old green basket, put quarters in my
pocket, and walked downstairs to the laundry. Luckily a machine was
open. Doing the physical labor helped slash the images from the
night before.
    A boy about four came running into the
laundry room with a frog.
    “ Look, lady. I found Curtis.
I lost him a yesterdee but now I founded him again. Ain’t he
big?”
    “ He’s wonderful.” I
cringed.
    “ Bye.” He ran out. I
laughed. I needed a laugh.
    The laundry was finished by one-thirty.
Showering was difficult; I kept a knife in the shower with me and
always rushed to finish. Going through my closet I found my white
halter shirt and taupe pants. It was Saturday. No uniform
today.
    I dressed, spending more time on my
hair than usual. My breathing was irregular, my hands moist, my
mouth dry. I felt like I was going on my first date.
    "Stop it, Sam. He's your patient," I
told the mirror.
    "Screw you, I'm going to enjoy this.
How many times do you get to see a Jack Nolan?" I answered
myself.
    Washington, D.C. The
ceremony was brief. Senator Ward was officiating, handing out the
useless metals. Frank McMorris and Oliver Chamber were officially
welcomed out the door. The politically incorrect twosome had come
in from the cold.
    Oliver took his check and
smiled. Frank, on the other hand, stuffed it in his pocket not
looking at it. He didn't care. He didn't care about a damn
thing.
    Immediately following the
ceremony the Senator took a call. When he realized who it was he
walked back to his office, whispering in Dari Persian. He was
smiling as he closed the door.
     
    Southern
Afghanistan:
    The woman in the white
shirt and torn green skirt was being dragged, screaming. No one
stepped out to watch. The torturer was hired. And paid
well.
    Three hours later, she lay
nude in the back of an abandoned store.
    The American strolled in
and began to bathe her gently, giving her water, sweet cakes,
opium, and kisses.
    "Are you ready to tell me,
Boosha? Tell George. You want to tell me. Who had your husband
killed that night? You know, don't you? Tell me, because it is
important, because you must feel the cold now and you must now my
sweet Boosah. Please me, please George."
    She tried to spit on
him.
    "That's okay. Your niece,
the little virgin, is here for me now. And my friends."
    Boosha sat up and screamed
at him.
    He learned all he needed to
know before he pressed his weapon into her rectum and
fired.
    He smiled.
    "Now, Frank...now I've got
you."
     
    At exactly a quarter to four I drove up
the driveway to Jack’s. To my surprise there were cars
everywhere.
    A petit, smiling woman in a maid’s
outfit opened the door, gesturing me in.
    People were hurrying around the house
with trays of food and cases of wine and booze.
    Fritz came out of the dining room to
greet me. He was wearing a flowered shirt, open, and Chinos instead
of his usual black and black.
    “ At last, my angel has
arrived.” He gave me a wonderful hug.
    “ What on earth is going
on?”
    “ Saturday night. People
always tend to drop by. We have a few hors d’oeuvres, a couple of
drinks.”
    A band started blasting from the back
yard.
    “