Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Vision She Hid: Kabanata 141 - Kabanata 150

Palermo at night looked like it had finished the Friday dinner and was now deciding what to do with the fish bones.The car had tinted windows and that faint new-leather smell that always made me think of dirty money disinfectant. The marina lights slid by our windows in long wet streaks. Inside, everything was muted, softened, as if the city had been wrapped in silk cloth and told us to behave.Elky sat beside me in the back seat. The driver was in front, a local low-key gangster Nicos had arranged for us last minute. That usually meant the guy was either reliable or disposable. We could do with some steady driving that night: the guy drove like he knew the streets too personally and thought the police was just a rumor. Her was in his late forties, with a face that had learned to stay neutral early in life and never forgot the lesson. He had olive skin, pleasant aftershave, and a jaw that had taken a few punches in its time. His eyes were almost black and steady, the kind that looked

Something woke me up before the sound did.Not a noise. A slight change in the air, or maybe just a foreign smell. The room shifted its weight, the way a house does when a stranger steps inside it. My eyes opened into the dark and for a second I didn’t know where I was. Then I remembered the bed, the curtains, the Napoleon furniture, the lie of safety. Elky’s arm was still heavy across my waist. His breathing was deep and even.The air smelled faintly of champagne and hotel soap. But under all that there was another smell, thin and sharp, like rubbing alcohol.I stayed still and listened. Nothing. Just an old lavish building holding its breath.I was wrong. A hotel never holds its breath. It rattles, it hums, it leaks life through thin walls. This room was too quiet, like somebody had turned down the volume.My eyes went to the doors. The main door. The bathroom. The connecting door, panelled to look like part of the wall. Too many ways in.A soft click came from somewhere near the en

The thing about Palermo is it can sell you a lifetime of sunrises for a hefty downpayment if you are not careful. The people here can sell anything to anyone, and that included me, big bad Elky Jennings. You wake up to salt in the air and sound of gulls making jokes about your hairdo while flying over the water, and for half a second you believe the city is just a city. Then you remember your wife is missing and your father-in-law is on television in handcuffs, and the Sicilian sunrise becomes what it always was: decoration for dumb tourists.I didn’t sleep, of course. I did tonnes of paperwork in my head and walked holes into old Persian carpet until my legs stopped feeling like mine. But it worked, as it usually does for me. By mid morning I had three names, two addresses, and a peculiar gap in the hotel footage that could have driven a truck through, and a certainty so solid it felt like a fossilized bone.My mother didn’t want a chat over a nice dinner. She’d wanted a clock ticki

I was tired. I had never been so tired before. The life was still there, somewhere in close proximity, but it carried on beyond the cosy bubble of my all-encompassing fatigue. There was nothing else to feel or worry about. No pain, no desire, and no memories. Only the passage of time was still there. I still felt its unhurried flow, but I wasn’t a meaningful part of it any longer. I didn’t even bother to open my eyes. But I could hear the voices alright.Next to the monitor displaying a bed with a motionless woman on it, stood two people in white coats. The woman was me. One of them had a metal badge pinned to his pocket. He spoke first:‘I have to say, she is a rare case in my practice. Her body, the doctor nodded at the monitor, lives an autonomous life, almost on cellular level.’‘Can you explain what it means, doctor?’ the other person in white asked. His voice made me warm and angry at the same time.‘The methods of restoring patients like her are fairly well known. The patients

Rick Marconi’s boat was floating the way a fat man floats after a big dinner—smug, bloated, and asking for trouble.It was too big, too white, and too loud with the kind of drunken laughter that doesn’t belong anywhere near salt water. Music thumped from somewhere below deck, that lazy pulse meant to keep the girls loose and the men stupid. The lights cut hard shapes on the water, turning the harbor into a cheap stage set. Everything about it said easy money not earned. Everything about it said target.Elky and I watched from the shadow of a piling that smelled of rotten seaweed and diesel fuel. The night air had that damp salt bite that crawls into your clothes and stays there like a bad memory. I felt calm. Not the calm you get from counting to ten or thinking happy thoughts. The calm you get when your body has already decided what it’s going to do and doesn’t need your permission.Elky checked his watch. Not because time mattered. Because men like to look busy before they do someth