West could feel rage building in Brazil as they walked. The mounting silence became oppressive as they passed lighted homes and dark thick trees armored in ivy and kudzu. She did not understand him and was beginning to suspect she’d made a big mistake thinking she could. So what if she’d worked hostage negotiation, homicides, and was experienced in talking people out of killing themselves or someone else? This didn’t mean she was even remotely capable of helping a strange guy like Andy Brazil. In fact, she didn’t have time.
“I want this killer,” Brazil started in, talking louder than was necessary or wise.
“Okay? I want him caught.”
He was obsessed, as if what this killer was doing was personal. West had no intention of getting into his space on this. They walked on.
Brazil suddenly kicked a rock with a fancy black and purple Nike leather tennis shoe that looked like something Agassi would endorse.
“What he does.” Brazil kicked more rocks.
“What do you think it must be like?” His voice got louder.
“Driving somewhere in a strange city, tired, away from home, a lot on your mind. Getting lost, stopping to ask directions.” Another rock skittered across blacktop.
“Next thing, you’re being led to some Godforsaken place, behind an abandoned building. A warehouse. A vacant lot.”
West stopped walking. She was staring at him as he furiously stomped ahead, wheeled around.
“Hard cold steel against your head as you beg not to die!” he yelled as if the crime had happened to him.
“As he blows your brains out anyway!”
West was frozen as she watched something she had never seen before this moment. Porch lights of nearby houses flipped on.
“He pulls your pants down and spray-paints this symbol! How would you like to die that wayf More lights came on. Dogs barked. West went into her police mode without a conscious thought. She walked over to Brazil and firmly took his arm.
“Andy, you’re disturbing the entire neighborhood.” She spoke with quiet calm.
“Let’s go home.”
Brazil stared defiantly at her.
“I want to make a difference.”
She nervously scanned their surroundings.
“Believe me. You are.”
More lights turned on, and someone had come out on his porch to see what crazy person had wandered into his quiet neighborhood.
Briddlewood had fled in his Cushman minutes earlier.
“Which is why we need to go,” West added, pulling Brazil along as they started walking back.
“You want to help. Okay. Tell me what you have to contribute besides tantrums and words.”
“Maybe we could plant something in one of my stories to trick him.” He had an idea.
“I wish it were that simple,” she said, and she meant it.
“And you’re assuming he reads the paper.”
“I bet he does.” Brazil wished she would have an open mind, as he flew through possibilities of what subliminal propaganda he might plant to ensnare this monster.
“The answer’s no. We don’t plant stories.”
Brazil hopped ahead again, excited.
“Together we could get him! I know it.”
“What’s this together stuff?” West said.
“You’re just a reporter. Hate to remind you of that fact.”
“I’m a volunteer cop,” he corrected her.
“Uh huh. The gun less wonder.”
“You could give me shooting lessons,” he then said.
“My dad used to take me out to a dump in the county…”
“He should have left you there,” she said.
“We’d shoot cans with his.38.”
“How old were you?” West asked when they were in Brazil’s driveway.
“Starting when I was seven, I think.” He had his hands in his pockets, and was looking down as he walked, a streetlight lighting up his hair.
“Seems like I was in the second grade.”
“I mean, when he died,” she gently said.
“Ten,” he said.
“I had just turned ten.” He stopped, and did not want West to leave. He didn’t want to go in and face the way he lived.
“I don’t have a gun,” he told her.
“Thank you, Jesus,” she said.
Chapter Seven.
Days went by. West had no intention of furthering the cause of Andy Brazil. His problems were his own, and it was time he grew up. When the following Sunday rolled around and Raines was interested in brunch, she called Brazil because she was a certified firearms instructor. If he needed help, it was only fair that she offer. He said he could be ready in ten minutes. She told him that unless she flew the Concorde to Davidson, she would not be picking him up for at least an hour.