Free Secret Light by Z. A. Maxfield Page B

He
    was supposed to protect her , not the other way around. Nausea enveloped him.
    “As soon as Dr. Wycker has Mooki in hand, we have to see to your arm.”
    “Ja.”
    “You’re schvitzing .”
    “I know.”
    “You’re probably in shock, honey.”
    “I know. As soon as I know Mooki will be all right…”
    They took off again, and Rafe closed his eyes. From behind his eyelids, he could see
    the passing lights, streetlights, stoplights—the lights of all the oncoming cars. They
    became a blur, as did the motion of the car itself. His arm throbbed, his chest was tight,
    and his head spun dizzily, as though it were attached to his shoulders by the thinnest
    thread of Christmas-tree tinsel.
    “ Ich habe solchen Schiss, ” he said— I’m so scared —before he passed out entirely.
    Z. A. Maxfield | Secret Light
    64

    Chapter Eight
    December 12, 1955
    Ben rang the bell at the front door of Rafe’s place and was surprised when an
    elderly man answered, grinning through tobacco-stained teeth.
    “I’m Ed”—the man held out a hand for a no-nonsense handshake—“from next
    door. I’ve been helping out while Rafe gets his bearings. You here about the attack?
    Helluva thing. First the garage and now this. This used to be a nice neighborhood.”
    “I thought I’d follow up…”
    “That guy jumped Rafe right out from the bushes. Didn’t take anything or
    nothing.”
    “It seems to have been an unusual situation.”
    “Don’t I know it. I hope you catch the bastard.” Finally Ed backed up enough that
    Ben could see into the living room. He spotted Rafe in his wing chair, dozing with his
    feet up on a hassock.
    Ah, damn . Rafe’s arm was splinted and wrapped in a thick white dressing, and his
    face was so pale it was nearly gray. Dark shadows lay like smudges below his eyes. His
    cheeks looked hollow. Maybe it was the light that made him look lifeless, but all the
    same, it turned Ben’s stomach.
    Lashes, long as a showgirl’s but so light they were barely noticeable most of the
    time, fluttered open to reveal the startling, clear lake blue of Rafe’s eyes. Next to him, in
    what looked to be a bassinet of some kind, lay Mooki. She slept soundly, the center
    mass of her body wrapped in white bandages like some hairy Egyptian mummy.
    “Ben?”
    Z. A. Maxfield | Secret Light
    65

    “I heard you had some more trouble here Saturday night.”
    Rafe nodded. He had to reach across his body with his left hand for a glass of water
    on the table where his pipe and ashtray usually sat. The motion caused him to grimace
    in pain.
    “Here.” Ben gave Rafe his water, and then he transferred the small end table from
    the right side of the wing chair to the left without asking. “That ought to help.”
    Rafe drank deeply, then put the glass down. “That’s perfect, thank you. I wonder
    why I didn’t think of that.”
    Ben grinned. “Sometimes it takes a second pair of eyes.”
    Rafe let his head fall back. His eyes were bleak with pain. Ed brought Ben a chair
    from Rafe’s dining room and placed it adjacent so they could talk. Ben gave him a nod
    to thank him.
    “Someone attacked you outside? Next to the porch?”
    Rafe nodded again. “I’d just gotten out of my car. He was hiding in the shadows.”
    “You gave a description? Do you have anything to add to that now?”
    Rafe shook his head. “He was hooded. Like a…a balaclava. Full ski mask. I was
    reaching into the car to get out some food my friend’s wife gave me after a party, and
    he struck me with a bat from behind.”
    “You’re lucky all you got was a broken arm.”
    “I didn’t exactly stand still and let him beat me with it.”
    “I heard. Officer Muntz said you handled yourself well.”
    Rafe made a disgusted sound. “Until the threat was gone. Then I saw Mooki and…
    I-I gave the officer your name. I told him we were acquainted.”
    “He told me when I got on shift today. That’s how I found out.”
    “I’m sorry.” Rafe glanced Ed’s