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Assuming it was Peter, she walked out of the bedroom with the soiled sheets in her arms, saying, "Honey, I appreciate your concern, but don't you think..." Her voice trailed off as she stared in shock at Epstein, who swayed drunkenly in the front hallway.
Epstein's face was covered with several days' growth of beard, and his clothing looked slept in. Eyes bloodshot and glazed, he stared at Kacie blearily before taking a gulp from the bottle in his hand. "Where's Petey?" he growled. "I wanna talk ta Petey."
"How did you get in here?" Kacie demanded, hugging the bundle of laundry closer to herself. {I could have sworn I locked the door behind Peter when he left this morning.}
"I let m'self inta Petey's place afore. It ain' hardta do." Eppy's words were slurred, and he had trouble focusing his eyes on her. "Where's Petey? I gotta talk to 'im."
"He's not here. He-he went to work today." As Epstein advanced toward her, she inched her way around the room, keeping the table in the dining area between the two of them.
"I needa see 'im. Heza only fren' I got inna whol' whorl'." His voice rose angrily. "Now where izee?"
Kacie's mouth was dry and her heart thundered in her ears. {Why, oh why, didn't I take Peter up on those kung fu lessons?} she thought wildly. Trying to keep her tone calm, she spoke patiently. "Peter went to work this morning. I-I can call him, and ask him to come home, if you want me to."
"Yer lyin' ta me! Ya don' like me. Allus tryin' ta turn my fren' against me." He moved menacingly, holding to the table's edges to keep his balance.
"Peter WANTS to talk to you. He's worried about you. He went to see you at the Blaisdells', but you were gone. Let me call him and..."
"No!" Epstein roared and kicked over a chair, which broke against the wall.
Kacie jumped and kept backing away. {Jesus, I just can't think! I thought they said that self defense training would kick in when you needed it.} "He'll come home if I call him; I know he will. He's been worried sick about you for days. I'll just tell him..."
"I said 'no'!" He looked at the now empty bottle in his hand and hurled it across the room, where it smashed against the side of the refrigerator. "Ya damn women are alla same! Ya don' listen! You NEVER listen!. Allus keep yappin' at a man 'til he loses his mind! My ex-wife was the same way!"
Kacie eyed the distance between her and the front door.
Epstein picked up on it, and ominously warned, "Don' you try an' run, Missy. Don' even try it."
"Look, if you won't let me call Peter, what about Paul?" she asked desperately. "Paul and Annie want to help you, too." {Oh, God, why did I tell Peter to go to work today?}
"Paul!" He spat the name venomously. "Paul's idea of help ista...lock me up someplace. Some help!" He scanned the room and asked again, "Where's Petey?"
Her voice rose shrilly. "I told you. Peter's not here. If you just let me call him..."
Picking up a second chair, he crashed it against the table and reduced it to kindling wood. "I told you to shut up! You just never shut up! You done nuthin' but come between Petey an' me. We was good friends afore you came along. You...come between me an' my boy. Jus' like...her. Jus' like she come between me an' my boys. Made 'em hate me, she did. Turned 'em against me. I ain't even seen 'em in years." He paused a moment, sagging heavily against the table.
{Keep him talking, just keep him talking.} Kacie's head was spinning, and she fought to keep from hyperventilating. {Peter, come home. Oh, Jesus God, please know I need you and come home!}
It was a quiet day at the precinct. Jody and Skalany
were appearing in court, Blake was gone to an
electronics convention, and Strenlich was meeting with
the DA. Kermit was behind his monitor, where he had
been sequestered all day. Peter had made a sizable
dent in the remaining files on his desk, but was stalled
on the present case.
He got up from his desk to pour a fresh cup of coffee before knocking on Kermit's door. Walking in, he announced, "Time to come up for air, Kermit."
Griffin leaned back in his chair and stretched. "Yeah, it might be. My fingers are worn down to the first knuckle."
"I know what you mean," Peter commented ruefully. "But it sure beats writing out everything by hand...in triplicate."
"Oh-h-h, ye-a-h-h."
Broderick interrupted them both by sticking his head in the door and saying, "Hey, Pete. Turn on the TV, Channel 3. There's a news report on I think you gotta hear."
Kermit pulled the remote from a drawer and turned on the TV. Sandra Mason, the precinct nemesis, was in mid-report. "...Violence at the state prison has ended in a total of five deaths as another victim has died. The prison riot that was incited three days ago by a small group of inmates resulted in four dead at the scene, and a score of others injured. The death of Aaron Smith brings the fatality count to five men: two guards and three inmates."
Peter exchanged looks with Kermit and shrugged. "Broderick, why would I be interested in this report?"
The sergeant remarked grimly, "Keep watchin'."
Peter returned his attention to the screen in time to see the pictures and names of the deceased prisoners. The name, 'Brian Patrick Epstein' and the familiarity of the features in the photo hit him like a blow. "Eppy's youngest son? I didn't even know he was in prison!"
Kermit was at his computer in an instant, fingers flying across the keyboard, while Peter continued following the news story with a stunned expression on his face.
"Brian Patrick Epstein, convicted of murder and attempted grand larceny, sentenced twenty years to life six weeks ago, " Kermit read outloud from the data on his screen.
Peter collapsed into a chair and sat motionless. "My God," he gasped. "No wonder he just disappeared from Paul's." He stared at Kermit. "Where could he be at a time like this?"
Kermit regarded his young friend grimly. "My guess? Holed up somewhere with a bottle, drinking himself into oblivion."
Peter started to bristle up at that, but the steady way Kermit stared at him stopped him short. His shoulders drooped and he muttered sadly, "You're probably right."
Epstein stumbled toward Kacie, who vacillated
between running for the front door and locking herself
in the bathroom. She was fairly sure she could outrun
him, but something about the way he looked at her was
paralyzing. It made her think of the time back home
when a deer in the middle of the road had been frozen by
the headlights of her brother's car. She would never
forget the look in the deer's eyes as they hit it and sent
it flying.
"You come 'tween Petey an' me jus' like my ex come 'tween me an' my boys. Now one a my boys is dead. Dead three days now."
Kacie swallowed past the dryness in her throat, trying to quell a rising sense of panic. "I-I'm sorry to hear..."
"Bullshit! Ya ain't sorry! Ya don' care! None a ya women care like ya say ya do. Ain't a one a ya worth a damn!" He made a sudden lunge for her, and she threw the armful of laundry at his face, causing him to lose his balance and fall.
Kacie raced for the front door. She might have made it if a piece of the broken chair had not slipped out from under her foot, causing her to fall to her knees. Frantically scrambling to her feet, she took another step toward escape. Epstein's hand snaked out and grabbed her ankle. She tripped and fell against the side wall of the stairway leading to the kitchen, striking her head against the partition with a dull thud before hitting it again on the floor when she landed.
Maddened by grief and rage and drink, Epstein didn't realize his prey was unconscious, and bleeding from stitches that had ripped open. He threw himself on top of her and put his hands around her throat. "Comin' between my fren' and me. You...women...alus comin' between me...an'...my...boys." His hands spasmed tighter with every word.