Author: Laurell K. Hamilton
Category: Horror
Go to read content：https://readnovelfree.com/p/3634_20
Chapter 7
The air conditioner blasted cold air into the car. Manny drove through the residential streets. Most of the driveways were empty. People off to work. Small children playing in the yards. A few moms out on the front steps. I didn't see any daddies at home with the kids. Things change, but not that much. The silence stretched out between us. It was not a comfortable silence.
Manny glanced at me furtively out of the corner of his eye.
I slumped in the passenger seat, the seat belt digging across my gun. "So," I said, "you used to perform human sacrifice."
I think he flinched. "Do you want me to lie?"
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"No, I want to not know. I want to live in blessed ignorance."
"It doesn't work that way, Anita," he said.
"I guess it doesn't," I said. I adjusted the lap strap so it didn't press over my gun. Ah, comfort. If only everything else were that easy to fix. "What are we going to do about it?"
"About you knowing?" he asked. He glanced at me as he asked. I nodded.
"You aren't going to rant and rave? Tell me what an evil bastard I am?"
"Doesn't seem much point in it," I said.
He looked at me a little longer this time. "Thanks."
"I didn't say it was alright, Manny. I'm just not going to yell at you. Not yet, anyway."
He passed a large white car full of dark-skinned teenagers. Their car stereo was up so loud, my teeth rattled. The driver had one of those high-boned, flat faces, straight off of an Aztec carving. Our eyes met as we moved by them. He made kissing motions with his mouth. The others laughed uproariously.
I resisted the urge to flip them off. Mustn't encourage the little tykes.
They turned right. We went straight. Relief.
Manny stopped two cars back from a light. Just beyond the light was the turnoff 40 West. We'd take 270 up to Olive and then a short jaunt to my apartment. We had forty-five minutes to an hour of travel time. Not a problem normally. Today I wanted away from Manny. I wanted some time to digest. To decide how to feel.
"Talk to me, Anita, please."
"Honest to God, Manny, I don't know what to say." Truth, try to stick to the truth between friends. Yeah.
"I've known you for four years, Manny. You are a good man. You love your wife, your kids. You've saved my life. I've saved yours. I thought I knew you."
"I haven't changed."
"Yes," I looked at him as I said it, "you have. Manny Rodriguez would never under any circumstance take part in human sacrifice."
"It's been twenty years."
"There's no statute of limitations on murder."
"You going to the cops?" His voice was very quiet.
The light changed. We waited our turn and merged into the morning traffic. It was as heavy as it ever got in St. Louis. It's not the gridlock of L.A., but stop and jerk is still pretty darn annoying. Especially this morning.
"I don't have any proof. Just Dominga Salvador's word. I wouldn't exactly call her a reliable witness."
"If you had proof?"
"Don't push me on this, Manny." I stared out the window. There was a silver Miada with the top down. The driver was white-haired, male, and wore a jaunty little cap, plus racing gloves. Middle-age crisis.
"Does Rosita know?" I asked.
"She suspects, but she doesn't know for sure."
"Doesn't want to know," I said.
"Probably not." He turned and stared at me then.
A red Ford truck was nearly in front of us. I yelled, "Manny!"
He slammed on the brakes, and only the seat belt kept me from kissing the dashboard.
"Jesus, Manny, watch your driving!"
He concentrated on traffic for a few seconds, then without looking at me this time, "Are you going to tell Rosita?"
I thought about that for about a second. I shook my head, realized he couldn't see it, and said, "I don't think so. Ignorance is bliss on this one, Manny. I don't think your wife could deal with it."
"She'd leave me and take the kids."