“Harry… Uhhh. That thing you do? That fuckin’ voodoo, Houdini magic-marker thing?” he asks, trying his best to butter me up.
I groan, puffing air out of my cheeks. Falling back onto the pillows and thumping the mattress with my fist.
Dammit!
“Convenience store clerk. Missing a face, but nothing was taken and no witnesses, I’m assuming?” I eventually reply matter of fact.
Giving voice to what I somehow already knew the second I laid my own eyes on the guy last night but I just couldn’t make sense of it.
Pity this ‘gift’ of mine didn’t come with instructions.
“How the—,” The chief starts to ask before he inhales loudly through his nose.
“Uhhh… yeah,” he finally murmurs after some silence, and I can almost see him shaking his head. But not so much in disbelief as a trip down memory lane.
“Harry. I need you down here. Apart from that thing you do… You were the last person to see this guy alive… I gotta call you in Harry. You’re uhhh…”
“Aperson of interest,” I drone. Knowing full well what that really means.
“Yeah,” he says again. Almost sounding apologetic. But it’s the same tone he’d use with any potential perp so I know shit just got real somehow.
“I’ll be down in twenty—,” I rasp. But the chief stops me.
“I’ll come get you, Harry. It’ll be better that way…” he mumbles. “…Oh, and congratulations by the way. That ticket you bought. It’s worth a million fucking dollars.Ifwe can find it,” he snaps, hanging up loudly.
I didn’t see that coming either. If I’d known the stupid ticket was worth that much would I still have handed it to Mr. soon-to-be without a face?
Laying on my back for a while. I notice that the vision of dead eyes has gone. Along with a million-dollar ticket, by the looks.
It always goes away, eventually. This ‘thing’ I’ve got. Comes and goes, passing through me like a three-day-old hot dog.
And only when there’s nothing I can do about it anymore.
I had my moment, my chance to dosomething. But I didn’t. HowcouldI know what to do?
I had no real idea he was about to get wasted like that. And definitely had no idea that a scratch ticket was a golden egg.
But like it or not, my good deed for the day has left a man dead.
Now I’m the only lead in the case.
And the prime suspect, most likely.
I guess it’s true. History always does repeat itself.
2
Megan
“Well, I can appreciate that Ms.… Shilling—,” my prospective employer, Vanessa says. A tone of feigned sympathy in her voice once I’ve had my rant about what I went through to even be here today.
Still fidgeting with the scratch ticket I peeled from the bottom of my shoe on the way in.
I’ve had an hour to study it while waiting, and I think it’s a winner.
A whole dollar by the looks. Or is it the grand prize, one million dollars?
Ha! As if…