Free Bound by Suggestion by L.L. Bartlett Page B

my wrist.
    “Relax, go with it,” she said. “It’ll be easier.”
    A white mist, thickening to a heavy veil, shrouded my thoughts, which only the sound of her voice could penetrate.
    “Tell me about Maggie . . . .”
     

Chapter 6
     
    “Wes was a complete jerk. It was all I could do not to get up and leave,” Richard said.
    He set his wineglass down on the desk blotter and leaned back in the comfortable leather chair in his study. He’d always loved this room. The dark paneling, mahogany desk, and well-worn leather furniture were the best part of his childhood. That, and the pleasant memories of pipe tobacco scenting the air while his grandfather worked at the desk where he now sat.
    Brenda looked up from her needlepoint, bathed in the warm glow of the Tiffany table lamp. “And you want to take on the job? What kind of a glutton for punishment are you?”
    Richard was about to tell her when the phone rang. He picked it up.
    “Dr. Alpert?” came the vaguely familiar voice. “It’s Tom Link, Jeff’s boss at the bar.”
    “Oh, yeah. What can I do for you, Tom?”
    “Jeff usually lets me know if he isn’t coming in to work. I’m just calling to see if he’s okay.”
    “Did you call him?”
    “I got no answer. I could sure use him,” Tom said. “Dave’s in Erie, so it’s just me here and it’s Ladies Night.”
    “I’ll hike over and remind him.”
    “Thanks, Doc.”
    Richard hung up the phone and frowned. “That’s three.”
    Brenda rethreaded her tapestry needle with another color yarn. “Three what?”
    Richard leaned forward, resting his weight on his forearms. “Oddball things he’s done today.”
    She sighed. “Jeffy?”
    “First he parks in my spot in the garage; he doesn’t pick up his mail, and that was his boss on the phone. He never showed up for work.”
    “I’d hardly call ignoring his mail an oddball thing. Besides, he’s probably been hiding in the dark to get rid of a headache.”
    “He’s always been responsible enough to call in sick before this.”
    “Then go over and see if he’s all right,” she said.
    Richard pushed away from the desk. “I’ll be back in a few.”
    He paused in the kitchen to pick up the small stack of junk mail and bills, then headed across the driveway.
    The sun hovered just above the horizon, but the inside of Jeff’s apartment was dark and gloomy, the air stale. As Richard hit the light switch, the cat lifted its head, blinking at him from its nest on a chair. Richard ignored it and headed across the pristine apartment, dropping the mail on the dining table next to Jeff’s keys.
    “Jeff?”
    Richard headed for the bedroom and heard a thump as the cat jumped down to follow. He peered into the darkened room and saw the prone form. Jeff was usually a stomach sleeper, but there he was stretched out on his back, legs dangling as though he’d sat on the foot of the bed and had fallen back. He still wore his denim jacket and Nikes. “Jeff?” he tried again.
    Richard turned on the bedside lamp, which would usually elicit a groan, but Jeff didn’t stir. “Jeff?” he said, concern curling through him. He reached for his brother’s wrist, felt a plodding pulse.
    The cat jumped on the bed, planted his front paws on Jeff’s chest and sniffed his face. Jeff’s hand came up to bat the cat away. “Herschel,” he said, slurring the word.
    “Jeff, wake up,” Richard tried again.
    Jeff opened his eyes, squinting up at his brother. “What time is it?”
    “Eight twenty. What’s going on?”
    Jeff hitched himself up on his elbows; the purring cat rubbed against his shoulder. “Herschel,” he chided.
    “Have you been drinking?”
    “No.”
    “Did you eat today?” Richard asked.
    Jeff rubbed his eyes. “Um . . . I dunno.”
    “What did you do today?”
    He blinked, as though thinking about it. “Went to Krista’s office.”
    “What did you do there?”
    “I don’t remember.”
    “What time did you get back?”
    Jeff pulled himself