The Heart of the Jungle, стр. 22
Bradley jerked out of his grip. He latched onto the collar of Jason's jacket. "I'm not some cheap tramp you can just toss out into the street," he said. "I have feelings."
Jason wrenched away and glared. "What do you think you're going to accomplish with this?" He took a step, closing the distance between them. "Do you think I'm suddenly going to change my mind and want you back?"
Bradley gave him a scornful look. "Please," he said. "What makes you think I want you back?" The lie was blatantly obvious. Bradley had always been given to flights of melodrama. This was just another expression of his need for constant attention. Good, bad, it didn't really matter as long as he got it.
Recognizing Bradley's tantrum for what it was dulled the edge of Jason's ire. Looking into Bradley's eyes now, he felt only pity. "Go home, Bradley," he said. "Get help. Get a life. I don't care. Just leave me alone."
For a moment, Bradley didn't say anything. Jason could tell by the look on his face that he was trying to think of a way to keep the fight going.
Finally, in a small, wounded voice, Bradley asked, "That's it?"
"It's all I've got," Jason said, bringing his hands up in a gesture of defeat. That was the cold, hard truth. He'd run out of attention. He'd run out of remorse. If Bradley needed a fix, he'd have to find it somewhere else from now on.
Bradley nodded slowly. "You get back what you give times seven. Good and bad."
"I've paid that price many times over," Jason said. "You know that better than anyone."
The reminder of Jason's troubled past seemed to catch Bradley off guard. Jason saw a blush of shame rise to his cheeks, and Bradley looked away. He seemed suddenly incapable of meeting Jason's eyes. "Your past is no excuse for how you treated me. Stop using it as a crutch."
"I wish I could," Jason admitted, surprising himself.
Bradley stared back at him for a long time. "And you think I need help?" He snorted and rolled his eyes. "Goodbye, Jason," Bradley said, and then turned and walked away.
As Jason watched him go, he breathed a sigh of relief. Goodbye, Bradley. Maybe this time it would stick.
Chapter 6
LAFFERTY'S was typical of the Seattle waterfront: a millish-looking wooden structure set far out onto the end of Pier 61. The weathered, boxy building atop tarred and barnacle-crusted posts perched precariously over the greasy, oil-slicked waters of Puget Sound. Gulls wheeled lazily overhead, searching for scraps, and the sound of a ferry's foghorn blasted through the drizzly afternoon.
Chris followed Jason along the wooden pier toward the entrance.
Despite Jason's optimism and the high value he placed on Jeffrey Cross's esteem, Chris remained skeptical. He was still trying to reconcile himself to the fact that, after nearly a year of dead air, there was finally a glimmer of hope. A soaring heart always fears the fall, he thought.
Once inside, they were taken immediately to a table in a secluded corner of the establishment with a good view of the water. Chris stared out at the sound in contemplation while they waited for Cross to make his entrance.
They didn't have to wait long. Jeffrey Cross had been looking forward to the meeting, and he was prompt. He was a short, rotund man with cherubic features and thinning blond hair. He was clad simply in a pair of khaki chinos and a blue chambray shirt. As he approached, he was preceded by the almost overpowering fragrance of his cologne.
He smiled warmly as he settled in an empty chair and shook Chris's hand.
"Christian," he said in a surprisingly rich baritone. "I've been dying to shake the hand of the man who saved Lafferty's."
Chris smiled and blushed. "I'm sure you're giving me far too much credit. As I recall, your gumbo is extraordinary."
Cross laughed a deep, hearty laugh. "Modest. I love that about you. That and your discerning palate."
Jason sat back and watched with admiration. Whatever misgivings Chris might have had about this meeting, he seemed to have put them aside. His casual familiarity was obviously charming the pants right off of Jeffrey Cross. Before that moment, he'd harbored some reservations about bringing him along, but seeing Cross's beaming smile, he put aside his doubts.
After several minutes of small talk and two rounds of hastily gulped drinks, it was clear that their host was becoming more malleable.
Drink had lent a rosy glow to his cheeks and the patches of balding pate just visible beneath his wispy blond hair. Jason decided it was time to get what they had come for.
"Chris and I are investigating the disappearance of his daughter and Michael Blake."
Cross sobered and nodded thoughtfully. "You mentioned something like that on the phone. Although I'm not sure how you think I can help." His blond eyebrows pinched together. "I can tell you I wasn't sorry to see that son of a bitch gone---sorry, Chris. You know he tried to crucify me in the courtroom." Cross flicked his eyes in Chris's direction sheepishly. "He may have had his redeeming qualities, but he spent none of them on me, I can assure you."
Chris nodded in understanding and sipped his drink. Jason watched the interchange with satisfaction and steeled himself to deliver the next blow. He took a deep breath, leveled his gaze at Cross, and said, "I have evidence that Brunner was involved in his disappearance."
Cross's entire demeanor changed instantly. The mention of the hated name was enough to send him into a blind rage. "Brunner," he sputtered. "That conniving, ruthless piece of shit." He pushed himself away from the table, looking as though filth had been thrown at him.
Jason suppressed a small smile of victory. He had been counting on the fact that Cross still nursed a grudge, and his hunch had just panned out better than he'd expected.
"Seems like the kind of thing that sicko would do," Cross said, his anger mellowing