The Storm King(62)

“I’ll cordon the block.” Tom stood and stretched his back.



Nate wondered how long his friend had been watching him. He wondered how long he’d drifted.

“I got it. You get this one home and dressed. And take a shower,” the chief told Nate. He patted Tom on the shoulder and handed him a small key on his way out of the room.

Tom watched his father leave, then turned back to Nate. Nate was sure the key the chief had passed to Tom was to his handcuffs, but his friend made no move to release him.

“How’s Grams?” Nate asked.

“The same. The doc thinks that might be a good thing, considering.”

“And Johnny?”

“He needs surgery.”

“I should be there, too.”

Tom shook his head. “The road to Gracefield’s closed. Downed trees everywhere, and they won’t start clearing them until this blows over. I barely made it back.”

Nate digested this. He had competing obligations, but the requirements of the living had to outweigh the demands of the dead. He’d never forgive himself if Grams woke up and he wasn’t by her side. “You told me you’d stay with her.”

“I planned to. But some downstate weekender caused a major incident at the station.” Tom sat back down across from Nate.

“Was it bad?”

“I’ve seen worse. Only caught the aftermath, though. You’d exhausted yourself by the time I got here. You’ve been out for almost an hour.” The lights overhead flickered. “We’re on generators now.”

Nate thought of Grams and the impediments the universe had built between them. “What is it, ten, fifteen miles to Gracefield? You could drive me as far as you can then I can walk the rest of the way. Or maybe I could ride a bike. Would a bike fit in your cruiser?”

It could have been the loss of his dog, a night of scant sleep, or the general stress of the day, but Tom looked different. His impassive expression was a hand-me-down from his father.



“You can’t walk to another town through a hurricane. There’ll be downed wires everywhere. The road’s closed for a reason.”

“Maybe I could follow the road, but walk inside the tree line.”

Tom stared at him. “Yesterday, you were a husband, father, and surgeon, and now you’re concussed and cuffed to a desk on the floor of a police station. How about you take a second to figure out how that happened.”

“What am I supposed to do, Tom?” He tugged at the cuffs and winced at the pain.

“We have to go to the funeral.”

Nate thought he might be able to convince Tom to help him get to Gracefield later. First he had to get out of these cuffs.

“Fine, Tommy. You’re right. I can’t get to the hospital in this weather. That was crazy. I just—I just can’t stop thinking of Grams. I can’t get her face out of my head. You didn’t see her when they brought her in. You can’t imagine how—” Nate let his voice catch in his throat, hung his head, and swallowed hard.

When he turned back to Tom his friend’s face had softened, but not as much as Nate would have liked. “So we have a funeral to go to. Are you going to unlock these? Or is this desk my plus one?”

Tom seemed to wrestle with something, but he didn’t struggle with it for very long. The key remained in his palm.

“Why’d Dad let you go?”

“I’m handcuffed to a desk.”

“Why aren’t you in a cell? Assault of a peace officer. Three counts, by the way. Destruction of government property. Then there’s Adam Decker.”

Nate remembered Adam Decker’s bloated face and how his own vision had melted into black streaked with red. He couldn’t see his hands bound behind him, but the knuckles of his right fist felt peeled, the joints stiff to the wrist in an all-too-familiar way.

Ten years without a brawl or bar fight. A decade without committing even a misdemeanor. People counted on him now. And they needed him. They needed Nate, not the Storm King. The Storm King brought holy ruin upon his enemies, but he never could protect the ones he loved.



“Like your dad said, hearing about that girl dying and then seeing Adam was too much. He got it. Why don’t you?”

“Two hours ago, my dad would’ve loved to charge you with something.”

“Which would have been awfully useful to know, Tommy.” If Tom knew how hard the chief was going to come down on Nate, then why hadn’t he warned him?

“You thought he was bringing you here to chat about the Yankees’ batting order?” Tom dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

The gesture was theatrical. Overly practiced. A chime of doubt sounded from the back of Nate’s mind. The chief had been keeping secrets, but Tom had secrets of his own. Nate sensed this with acute certainty. He was suddenly very conscious of his own helplessness.

“So why would he let you go as soon as he gets you where he wants you?”

“I guess he got whatever he was looking for.” Nate shrugged as best he could and summoned the most guileless smile he had access to. “It’s not like he told me what he wanted.” It seemed like a good time to change the subject. “What was Adam doing here, anyway?”

“Reporting damage. Someone broke into his house last night, stopped up all the sinks on the first floor, and ran the faucets full blast until the morning. His cellphone was a casualty, the storm took out the landline, and he’s just a block away.” Tom frowned at him. “You punched him pretty hard.”