Khan (Bowen Boys, #2)(45)
He was between two buildings. An alley, he supposed. There was something near him, blue and metal; he looked at it and realized it was a dumpster. One much like they had at one of the homes he’d been in. Tony sat up. There was snow thick on his body. So he had been out there for some time. Either that or someone had piled it over him. He looked around more and realized that he’d been wherever he was for some time because there were no prints leading up to his body. After brushing off the snow, he saw that, once again, he was covered in blood.
“No, no, no, no.” Closing his eyes didn’t help; he still saw it. Looking at himself again, he saw that not only his clothes were covered, his hands were as well. Burying them in the snow, he tried to wash it all away to see if he’d injured himself and found that, while he did have a few cuts, nothing to explain the amount of blood he had on him. That’s when he noticed the knife.
It wasn’t like the one his mother used when she cooked. This one had a handle that he knew the blade fit inside of. He didn’t pick it up immediately, but studied it. The serrated edge was covered in blood and things he wasn’t going to think about. He knew a little about switchblades, enough to see that this one was an out the front type of knife and longer than most. The blade itself looked to be at least nine inches long. A custom job, he thought.
Looking around, he reached down and picked it up. It wasn’t heavy like he’d expected, and the handle had carving in it. Without having to wash off all the blood first, he would say it was of a skull. The blood added to its macabre look. He pushed the tab on the side and the blade slid easily into the handle.
He’d been bad again.
Tony leaned back against the dumpster behind him and felt the pain of his headache coming on. He didn’t know what he’d done, but something that had him covered in blood. Yesterday was a blur and last night was gone. He lay there and cried. He just wanted to show Monica that she’d hurt him.
Standing up, he pulled his coat around him. He had no idea what his face looked like so he reached down, grabbing hands full of snow, and scrubbed his face with it. When it dripped red from his hands, he did it several more times until it rained down clear. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he stepped out of the alley.
There weren’t that many cars around, but he didn’t recognize where he was. He tried to find a street sign, but there didn’t seem to be any where he was, so he started walking. He wondered what day it was.
There were several papers in trashcans along the way. But each of them had a different date on them. Frustrated, he turned to the first person he saw and asked him what the date was. The man grunted at him and kept walking. Tony was half tempted to pull out the bloodied knife and ram it though the rude man’s heart, but he didn’t. That would get him into trouble again.
The next person he asked told him it was the twenty-second. He thanked him and went back to the trashcan. There was one newspaper in it for today. Taking it out. He started to enter a coffee shop and saw that it was occupied with several men in blue. He wasn’t going to get himself into trouble if they saw what was on his shirt. Moving down the block, he entered another alley and sat near another dumpster, this one rust-covered, and read the first page of the paper.
The word “MANHUNT” screamed across the headline. He read the article, hoping it was about his parents and maybe this time someone had finally remembered him. But it talked about how there had been a string of murders and it had begun with his parents. Reading the entire article twice, he tossed it away.
“Why hasn’t she told them about me? Why is she not telling the police that I’m their son?” He kicked out at the paper again and reached to grab it up. There she was. Right there.
“Mr. and Mrs. Khan Bowen were married last night, bringing one of the most eligible bachelors to his knees.” Tony looked at the picture of the man and woman before continuing on with the post. “Monica Preston Bowen, bride to the fortune five-hundred topper, was wearing a cranberry gown handmade for her by Alice Combs of Alice on the James Specialty Shop. The couple will be residing at the home of his brother, another topper on the list of rich men, and his lovely wife Caitlynne Bowen, who were married late last year.”
The article droned on, but Tony stopped reading. How could she do this to him? How could she just ignore the fact that he and his mother were planning this big wedding for this month? And wouldn’t she want to honor his parents even though someone had murdered them? Tony got up and paced.
She really was a slut. As soon as he couldn’t find her, she’d gone off and found herself someone else just like that? Apparently, she had never loved him at all. She’d been using him. He didn’t like to be used. He didn’t like it one bit. He was going to find her and tell her that too. He was going to find her right now.
Walking along the streets, he looked for his car. He didn’t have a clue where he’d left it and was getting very afraid that someone had taken it thinking it was the car that Bowen woman had showed on the news. He was just stepping by a bar when he heard his name. Not his first name, but his last. He entered, but kept back in the darkened corner and ordered a beer.
He held it in his hand, not touching the nasty stuff, looking at each patron there. He didn’t know any of them and was ready to leave when he glanced up at the television hanging crookedly over the back of the bar.
“…last night. This is the fourth murder like this one in just under two weeks. The police are working tightly with the CIA as well as other bureaus to bring this crime spree to an end. According to the police, they are looking for the same man. They said that he is in his mid-thirties with dark blond hair. He will be strong and he is considered armed and dangerous. Here is a sketch of the man that a witness has given us.”