Free 12 Days by Chris Frank, Skip Press

to contemplate.
    He jumped when he heard the La Pense house phone ring for what seemed like the hundredth time. He held his hands over his ears. Why wouldn’t they stop calling? Didn’t they know that she couldn’t pick up the phone?
    Then there it was, in a flash, his answer.
    Alice could be next; she actually fit nicely into his plan as number four. On a personal level, it was regrettable that Alice Edwards had just given the lucky “Big” Jack Larsen a reprieve. But alas, a life is a life. Mean Mrs. Edwards should not have called the cops on him so long ago and she definitely should not have seen him on Christmas morning; that was a big mistake. He picked up the bowl and sucked down the rest of the lobster bisque. This is really good , he thought. I wonder if she has any dessert laying around?
     
    Day 2: 11:35 p.m.
    Jim was not a big drinker; a couple of brewskis while watching football on a Sunday was usually enough to lay him out by the end of the third quarter. But tonight, he got his drink on. He had never really developed a taste for brown liquor but he had a hankering now for bourbon and he was going to feed that need. In the course of two days, he had lost his job, met a girl, lost the girl, wondered about the girl’s mentality, and withheld information that might help the police catch a particularly creative serial killer. Forty-eight hours, amazing! Jovian , he thought as he raised another glass to toast his remarkable fortune, you are a true American success story.
    Then he lightened up a little. At this point in his life, he decided, nothing would surprise him.
    But something did. First, the ringing doorbell that he ignored repeatedly, certain it was the kids from down the hall playing holiday pranks. After that came a light, insistent knock on his apartment door. He was ready to scare those kids to death, but when he yanked the door open far enough to yell, he was amazed of who and what he saw. There was Lisa, a confused look on her face, as she stood there, forlorn, waiting for him to undo the triple lock. The hallway light behind her, made her face look a little golden, beautiful.
    He wasn’t surprised that Lisa knew where he lived. After all, this was a woman capable of convincing a grieving husband that he should disclose the details of his wife’s abduction and murder over the phone. But seeing her standing there, wanting in… WOW.
    Jim stepped aside and ushered her across the threshold. His was an ample one-bedroom apartment in Rosemead, a small town north of the 10 freeway, a short drive from the police station. It was a town where, housing-wise, a dollar went a long way. Not a real long way, but further than it did in West Covina.
    Lisa wasn’t saying much. She sat on the couch while Jim grabbed the bottle of bourbon, his glass, and another glass for her. He filled them both to two fingers. They clinked rims just as they had done at the Sunrise Grill a little over twelve hours before. Jim threw back his drink and looked at her, saying nothing. Damn, she looked good.
    Lisa just stared into her drink.
    “I’m sorry. I just get so caught up in things that… that I don’t see all the angles.”
    Jim poured another for himself and said nothing.
    Lisa set her glass down.
    “Jim, I…”
    “Shut up.”
    Lisa stared at Jim, but he wasn’t angry. He was intense, yes, but in an attentive way, even a playful way. She hadn’t touched her drink, but she was sure he was looking at her with the eyes of a lover. And she liked that.
    “I’ve got nothing left to lose right?”
    Lisa took his hand.
    “That’s right.”
    She moved his open palm slowly onto her breast. They kissed on the couch, fumbling a moment to let their bodies find a comfortable fit. Over the next five hours, they explored each other to the point of exhaustion, losing track of time before finally kissing goodnight. Jim slept soundly, his mind completely blank, the knot in his stomach gone. He’d forgotten how amazing the touch of