Page 95 of In His Sights

I held my breath once more as Porter drank from his cup, suppressing a sigh of relief when he leaned back against the seat.

“So… tell me about this guy.”

I feigned concern. “He’s… he’s a troubled soul.”

“How so?”

I wrapped my hands around my cup. “These guys talk to me, you know? They confide in me. And ordinarily I wouldn’t reveal anything they share, but….”

“But this particular man worries you?”

I nodded. “It wasn’t until the newspapers started printing details about these deaths that he spoke to me about his past and I realized he might be… involved somehow.” I took a drink and waited while he did the same.

That’s it. Drink some more.

“What’s his name?” Porter asked.

“Lee.” It was the first name that came into my head, but hey, it fit. “He had a brother, Paul, a sweet, gentle young man by all accounts. Anyway, they lost their parents in a tragic accident, and then it was just the two of them. Paul was in college when they died. Eventually he graduated but showed no signs of wanting to return home. Lee was engrossed in his own studies, and maybe that was why he didn’t see what was happening.”

I cursed myself every day for not seeing Paul’s struggles until it was too late.

“And whatwashappening?”

My stomach roiled. “Paul got in with the wrong crowd. And one day the police turned up on Lee’s doorstep with the news that Paul was dead, aged twenty-six. He’d taken drugs, and the dosage proved fatal. But when Lee learned more about the way Paul had been living, the… activities he’d participated in, the more convinced he became that Paul’s death had come about because of his associations with certain men.” I had to fight nausea as I told him about the drugs Paul had taken, the club he’d frequented, the things they’d found in his apartment when he died. “The day Lee told me all this, he also said those men were to blame for his brother’s death. They’d corrupted him.”

Porter’s breathing hitched. “I can see why you might think he was involved if he was set on getting revenge for his brother’s death. But… there’s something wrong about all this.” He swallowed, then took several slow blinks. “This killer has covered his tracks… every time… so why would he suddenly tell you all this? Especially when it… throws suspicion on himself.”

I knew exactly what was happening to his body right then. The initial effects of the drug would be nausea, dizziness, confusion, and disorientation. He’d feel too hot yet too cold. It wouldn’t be long before his blood pressure would drop, he’d become drowsy, then black out.

Porter tugged at his shirt collar, his breathing labored.

“Are you all right?”

He gave a slow shake of his head. “No, I feel awful.”

“Can I help?”

Porter tried to stand but fell back onto the bench. “If I can just find a taxi, I can—”

“Look, let me take you to a clinic. If you won’t let me treat you, at least let me find you a doctor.”

Porter clutched his stomach.

I helped him to his feet. “My car is right across the street. It isn’t far.” I guided him through the park, heading for the gap in the fence, my hand around his back.

I knew the second realization hit. Porter stiffened, his eyes wide. “Hey… wait a minute….” His speech was slurred, and I knew I didn’t have long to get him to the sanctuary of my car.

When the lights changed, I walked him across the street, ignoring his slurred entreaties, my heartbeat racing.

This is a mistake.

Get him out of sight.

There was no one in the parking lot when I reached the car, but the damage had already been done; we’d been in plain sight. I opened the back door and almost shoved him onto the seat. The drug had him in its grip, and by the time I got behind the wheel, he’d passed out.

I twisted to gaze at him. “Sweet dreams, Dan Porter.”

Chapter 37

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