Free The Night Parade by Ronald Malfi Page B

know of? Someone we could call?”
    â€œI have no idea. Even if I knew that he did, I wouldn’t know how to get in touch with anyone.”
    Kathy sighed. “I’m just not sure what to tell you except that, for now, you should respect his wishes and not call anyone.”
    â€œYeah,” David said, though he wasn’t sure he actually agreed.
    â€œIt’s probably an illness. When was the last time you were over at his house?”
    â€œNot for a while.”
    â€œIsn’t he on disability?”
    â€œFor falling off scaffolding at a construction site,” David said. “Nothing to do with cancer. Or dementia or anything like that.” Or with a bowlful of blood, was what he wanted to say. “It was so weird, Kath.”
    â€œThen go check on him first thing in the morning. But if the man doesn’t want you prying into his private business, you have to respect that.”
    â€œDo I? I’ve got no responsibility beyond that?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œEven if it is dementia and he doesn’t know what’s good for him? And that he might be putting himself in harm and not even realizing it?”
    â€œYou’re hypothesizing. Talk to him tomorrow and figure things out then. He might have a clearer head by then and be ready to talk to you. You’ll have a better picture of what you’re dealing with, too, and can make an informed decision.”
    â€œSpoken like a true therapist,” he said, exhausted.
    â€œThat’s what I am,” she said. “Wait till you get my bill.”
    He smiled at her. “Okay. You’re right.”
    â€œAre you hungry?”
    â€œI was,” he said. “Now, not so much.”
    â€œI was going to go to bed. Would you rather I stay up with you for a while?”
    â€œNo, hon. Get some sleep.” He kissed her forehead.
    In the kitchen, he began to fix himself a turkey sandwich, but then thought of the geese, and decided to go for some ham and cheese on white bread. It wasn’t that he was hungry, but he knew he had to eat something. After the first bite, his hunger returned, and he not only devoured the whole sandwich, but a handful of Doritos and a Coke, too. Just as he finished, Ellie appeared in the kitchen doorway.
    â€œHey, Little Spoon,” he said, getting up from the table. “What are you doing up so late?”
    â€œBad dream,” she said.
    â€œMonsters?”
    Solemnly, Ellie nodded.
    â€œCome on,” he said. “Let’s tuck you back in.”
    The bedsheets were in a ball at the foot of the bed, the comforter on the floor. As Ellie climbed into bed, David gathered up the blankets, then tucked Ellie beneath them. He smoothed back the hair from her forehead, then planted a kiss there.
    â€œYou were there,” she said. “In my nightmare.”
    â€œWas I the hero who saved the day?”
    She shook her head. “No. You were crying. You were screaming, Daddy.”
    He frowned and said, “Hon—”
    â€œYou were pulling on my arm and it hurt. But I didn’t want you to stop. I didn’t want you to let go. Because then the monsters would get me.”
    He kissed her forehead a second time, then said, “There’s no such thing as monsters, Ellie. You know that.”
    â€œYeah, I know. Come on.” She smiled, and he thought—strangely—that it was solely for his sake.
    â€œYeah,” he said. “Come on.”
    When he stood, she said, “Good night, Dad.”
    â€œGood night, Little Spoon. I love you.”
    â€œLove you, too.”
    For the next hour or so, he sat on the couch watching an old movie, though he really wasn’t paying much attention to it. He couldn’t relax. A few times, his gaze drifted away from the TV, settling instead on some dark corner of the room. He saw the blood in Deke’s toilet, watched those tiny bits of blackened fibers in Deke’s sink take on life and