Free Fuzzy Navel by J. A. Konrath Page A

Adopting unwanted babies? Sending aid when there’s a natural disaster? Giving blood? Donating to charity? People do these things to feel good about themselves. They’re all selfish acts, and pretty goddamn stupid as well. If you’re going to be selfish, it should benefit your life, not take away from it. Now I’m asking you again – where has your morality gotten you?”
    I know the answer, and hate the answer.
    “Answer the question, Jack.”
    “Here,” I whisper.
    “Exactly. Your high regard for life, and justice, and the path of righteousness, has gotten you here. You’re dead, and the people you love are dead, all because you’re so sure that there’s a right and a wrong. Be honest. Don’t you wish that you had killed me after you tore off my face?”
    I nod slowly and speak the truth. “Yes.”
    Alex half smiles. “Good. I’d hate for you to die without any regrets. And let me tell you something, Jack. For all I’ve done in my life, I never put anyone that I cared about in jeopardy. Your loved ones are going to suffer, and it’s your fault.”
    Alex sticks her face in mine, lets me smell her rotten breath.
    “And you call me a monster,” she says.

8:30 P.M.
     
JACK
    A S IF I’M NOT FEELING HORRIBLE enough about the unfolding events, Alex helps add guilt to the fear, pain, panic, and regret I’ve been drowning in.
    She seems to notice this, and I can sense it pleases her.
    “Are we done with the philosophy?” she asks.
    I don’t answer.
    “I’ll take that as a yes. Moving on to the next question. And let me tell you, Jack, this one is a hard one. I’ve done some clever things in my life, but this one was truly brilliant. Are you ready for it? Are you ready to see if you’re as smart as I am?”
    I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready. But I make myself nod. Alex smiles her half smile and comes in closer.
    “How did I find out where you live, Jack?”
    I don’t have a clue. When I moved to the suburbs from my Chicago apartment, I didn’t leave any forwarding address. All of my ID still lists Wrigleyville as my home. Except for Herb, Latham, and Harry, I didn’t tell a single person that I’d moved. All the utilities here are in Mom’s name. I pay my cell bill and credit cards over the Internet, using Mom’s connection. No one knew that I live here.
    But Alex knew. She came here directly after breaking out. How?
    “You hired someone,” I guess. “You had some money stashed, used a private eye to track me down.”
    “Wrong!” Her eyes twinkle. “Pick someone.”
    I can’t speak.
    “Hurry, Jack, or I’ll shoot them both.”
    “Me,” I croak. “Shoot me.”
    “Your turn will come later. And trust me – you’ll be begging me to shoot you before we’re through. But now you have to choose. Or we could do eenie-meenie-minie-moe.”
    I stare at Latham, my lower lip trembling, and somehow say, “Him.”
    The fact that Latham nods makes it even worse. Alex spins the cylinder and places the barrel up to his forehead. Latham closes his eyes. I want to close mine as well, but I owe it to him to watch.
    Click.
    I taste blood. I’ve bitten my tongue.
    “Try again, Jack. How did I find you?”
    I throw out a guess.
    “You found out my mother’s last name, called up the electric company or some other utility.”
    “Wrong.”
    Alex begins to pull the trigger, and I scream, “You have to spin it first!”
    “No I don’t. It’s the same question, so no new spin.”
    I cringe, my whole world imploding.
    Click.
    “Looks like you get another guess,” Alex says. “There’s a one out of three chance that Latham will die if you get it wrong. Isn’t this exciting?”
    Latham’s forehead has broken out in sweat, but he stays stoic, stays calm.
    Think, Jack! Think!
    “You tracked the home loan somehow, knew my mother moved here.”
    “Exactly,” Alex says.
    I slump back on the sofa.
    “I just logged onto the Internet,” Alex continues, “because they give full Internet access