Free Bones of a Witch by Dana Donovan Page B

differently from those of the day, especially with the streets
as empty as they were then. I strained to listen and heard music
banging from the jukebox in Ernie’s Pub a block and a half away.
Elsewhere, from a distant rooftop, a couple, probably drunk,
professed their love for one another at the tops of their lungs. I
mused over the thought that one day I might be called to that exact
apartment building to respond to a domestic disturbance call. I
might remind them about what they said that night.
    As I waited on the boardwalk, leaning over the
railing and looking out over the milky white swirls made skittish
by the gentle lapping of waves on the rocky edge, I whispered low
into my microphone and called for a sound check.
    “Carlos, you copy?”
    He came back, “Copy Little Buddy. You’re
looking good.”
    See what I mean? Gilligan be damned. “How `bout
you, Tony, copy?”
    He returned, “You know, kid, I remember when
you used to address me as Detective Marcella. You forget
that?”
    “No, Tony…I mean, Detective. It’s just that you
haven’t been a detective for a couple of years, and then there’s
the fact that you’re, ahm….”
    “Yes?”
    “Well, sir, I am older than you
now.”
    “No you’re not.”
    “Of course, I know I’m not; that is to say that
you’re still, I mean your age is—”
    “Forget it, kid, I’m only messing with you;
trying to get your head in a better place. I thought you sounded
nervous.”
    “No, I’m not nerv—”
    “Break it up kids.” Carlos came back. “Got a
bogie at three o`clock. Play it cool, Dominic. Don’t forget we got
you covered. On your word we rush him.”
    “Got it,” I said, though I suspect my words had
gotten trapped somewhere between my throat and my lips and nothing
really came out at all. I was so nervous I could pee. All I kept
thinking about was that damn wolf knife. Lilith said she had seen
one before. Were there more?
    I turned my head discreetly to the right and
saw a shadowy figure emerging from the fog like an apparition.
Maybe was, for all I knew. I suddenly felt woefully under gunned
and unprepared. I reached under my coat and wrapped my hand around
a .38 snub nose that Tony had lent me; said it wouldn’t show as
much as my Glock would.
    The man approaching stepped under the glow of
the second streetlight from the pier. I could see him better now,
though the fog was still thickest along the stretch of boardwalk we
occupied.
    “He’s getting closer,” I whispered, not sure if
I had spoken into the microphone loud enough. “Did you guys
copy?”
    Tony came back, “We copy. Hold steady. It might
not be him. Don’t want to scare him off if he’s
watching.”
    Carlos added, “He’ll probably try stabbing you
in the belly.”
    “What?”
    “Yeah, the forward thrust, it’s the power
position.”
    “Is that supposed to make me feel
better?”
    Tony replied, “He means that your vest should
resist a puncture.”
    “I wasn’t planning on giving him first
strike.”
    “Shhh, he’s too close. Shut up.”
    I looked over and saw the stranger now barely
ten feet away. I turned to him slowly, keeping my head down to
shadow my face with the brim of my hat.
    “Steady, Dominic,” I heard someone say. I was
so scared I couldn’t tell if it was Tony, Carlos or my own brain
dispensing the advice. From beneath my coat I thumbed the hammer of
my revolver and cocked it back. The stranger’s walk seemed
leisurely, but his body remained stiff. I noticed he kept his hands
in his coat pockets, which gave me a minor sense of relief. To
produce a knife with an eight inch blade would take a fairly
drastic move on his part. He could not do it subtly, I thought;
surely no quicker than it would take me to pull my gun.
    “Give him an opportunity,” a voice said, and I
was sure it wasn’t mine that time.
    At six feet out I saw the man begin to remove
his right hand from his pocket. I began to slip my own out from
under my coat. But at just four