Broken Read Online Free

owner had lowered
     the rent simply to have her in his building so he could occasionally maul her with his eyes just like he had the first time
     they met. Normally she would have found another, not wanting to deal with some creepy landlord, but she had wanted and needed
     a quick and easy transition without many questions or complications.
    The crowd downtown is typical. She finds herself slowing down behind a couple strolling, holding hands, looking perfect in
     their love. Just as she’s about to pass them, she sees the figure across the street.
    Standing.
    Looking her way.
    And that’s when for a brief second, she knows.
    Just like she knew at church.
    She turns away and passes the couple. As she does Laila glances across the street.
    He still stands there, arms at his side, just staring. Waiting.
    That square face and those desolate eyes. They were lifeless before she shot him. And they’re lifeless now.
    She can’t shake the fact that the face looks the same. That the figure—tall, lean—looks the same.
    Then he smiles at her, and she stops.
    The strolling couple almost run into her.
    “Excuse me, I’m sorry,” she says, turning around and seeing the amused faces looking at her.
    If it had been New York, those faces would look a lot different. But this is the heart of South Carolina, where a walk down
     a sidewalk is just that.
    Laila turns, knowing the figure will either still be there but look completely different or be gone.
    But he’s still there, still smiling, still staring.
    Laila doesn’t move.
    The man waves.
    He waves gently, deliberately. She can see those eyes even though they’re far away from her, can see them probing her with
     delight.
    A man walking a dog—a big dog, the kind that weighs three times what she might—pulls the dog and its drool away from her.
     The leash gets wrapped up around her leg as the friendly mouth brushes spittle across her thigh.
    “Hold on there, Harley! Oh, look, I am so sorry about that.”
    “It’s fine, really.”
    The man doesn’t want to invade her space as Laila delicately tries to step out of the leash.
    “Can I get—I’m sorry, he likes people.”
    “It’s okay, really.”
    “Come on, Harley,” the man says as she pets the dog.
    She smiles in a polite way, not feeling like talking. For a moment she glances across the street and this time finds the figure
     gone.
    Laila continues walking, wondering if she really saw him. She recalls his smile and his wave and knows she saw someone.
    She wonders if this is what purgatory is like. A feeling of fear inevery waking moment of the day, feeling that just around the corner a ghoul might jump out and grab her.
    The feeling that anything is possible when you take the life of another.
    •   •   •
    Lex watches the woman smoke the cigarette in a manner that is as natural and necessary as breathing. The image makes him sad.
     Her sitting on the couch, legs crossed, wearing a T-shirt and tiny shorts that he thinks might be the clothes she slept in,
     her mass of highlighted hair cascading over to one side, her body nervously fidgeting the way a teenager might. She looks
     younger than she did when she came up to his table at the wine bar. The eyes that stare back at him may have once been beautiful
     and maybe they still are, but they’re hard. They’re hard and unflinching.
    “What do you want to know?” she asks.
    “What happened to her.”
    “It’s been three years. Hell if I know.”
    “Three years since you spoke with her?”
    “No, since she moved out.”
    “And that was the last time you talked to her?”
    “No—let’s see—it’s been—I don’t know—a couple years maybe. I think she called me a few times.”
    “From where?”
    “Last I heard she was in Chicago.”
    “Doing what?”
    “I didn’t ask.”
    “Why’d she call?”
    The woman seems distracted by something on the table. She takes a drag and stares at him, disbelief shading the pale face.
    “You sure you’re