Authors: Ken Bruen
Then another voice, concerned, knowing, going,
âNo, call . . . a . . . priest.'
There's irony for you. If I could have laughed, I would, but my throat was choked. I'd wanted to say,
âWell, this day is shot to hell.'
I knelt by Cody, his blood oozing through my hands. A woman behind me was keening,
Oh, Sweet Jesus.
She began to massage my shoulder â it annoyed me, a lot. There was slight pressure from Cody's hand, he was trying to squeeze mine but it was fading.
My eyes were wet. I thought first it was blood then realized it was tears. The woman was massaging my shoulder still and I heard her say to someone, I think I heard her say,
It's his son.
I do know she continued to knead my shoulder.
KEN BRUEN
has been a finalist for the Edgar, Anthony, and Barry Awards, and has won a Macavity Award and a Shamus Award for the Jack Taylor series. He lives in Galway, Ireland.
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