Luke ignored the chairs and stood in the corner, facing the door, to wait.
A few minutes passed before the door opened again. It was Bill again and behind him was Perry.
Clive Perry might once have been intimidating. But a lifetime of poor choices left him stooped and hollow. He was five-foot-eleven, but his stooped shoulders made him look shorter. His gray hair was combed and neatly trimmed.
The lines on his face were deep, making him look older than his 62 years.
There was nothing remarkable about the man. Nothing that screamed “unstable psychopath.” Except maybe the eyes. A pale, watery blue. There was an emptiness in his gaze. Luke had seen it before. In the enemy’s eyes. And once in his own reflection.
Perry thanked Bill and took a seat at the table. Long gnarled fingers, stained yellow, reached for a cigarette.
He lit it and exhaled a cloud of blue smoke.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Garrison?”
Play it cocky, Luke reminded himself. The cocky, overprotective boyfriend.
He took the chair opposite Perry and tucked his sunglasses into the open collar of his button down.
“Do you know who I am?” Luke asked.
“I haven’t the faintest.” Perry’s small, mean smile showed teeth stained with age.
“Let’s cut the bullshit. You are done harassing Harper.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Luke pulled the letter out of his pocket and slid it across the table. “I think you do.”
The smile broadened. “Ah, my letter.”
“Letters,” Luke corrected him.
“So she’s read them. I wasn’t sure. We’re something like pen pals,” Perry said.
“No. You’re something like a stalker.”
“I pose no threat to her.”
Luke smirked. “I can see that.” He kicked back in the chair.
“I’ve served my time, Mr. Garrison. I’ve been a model prisoner,” he said, steepling his fingers. “And I’ve made no specific threats to your girlfriend.”
“You don’t have the balls to make a direct threat, much less carry it out.”
“There, you see? Nothing to concern yourself with. My history with Harper is just that, history.”
“Then why do you still write?”
Perry opened his hands and shrugged. “Maybe it’s as simple as I don’t want to be forgotten. We played important roles in each other’s lives. It would be a shame to forget that.”
“You abused children under your care.” Luke didn’t have to add the revulsion to his tone. It was already there.
“Like I said. I’ve served my time. In the eyes of the law I’m rehabilitated.” Perry fingered the edges of the envelope. “Tell me, what did she say when she opened my letter? How did she take my news?”
And there it was. The hunger. Feed him just enough.
“She assures me that you’re no threat. You’re just a crazy, frail old man who blames her for your own crimes.”
