Untold Damage by Robert K. Lewis Page A

replied. Pushed up his sleeves and held out his arms. “Go ahead, man. Check ’em.”
    â€œStop,” Oberon replied. “I came by yesterday to see how you were getting on after being released. Didn’t find you home, and well … can’t blame an old Police for feeling a bit cynical from time to time, can you?” He went and sat down in one of the rusty folding chairs that Mallen had at one time called part of his dining room set. “I’m very glad to see that it seems to be holding, Mark.”
    â€œThanks. I have to say, Obie, that I owe it all to you.”
    â€œI will come and collect on that, one day, I assure you,” the cop replied with a slight smile.
    â€œAnd I’ll pay off with a grin, trust me. Hey, you got my message about Jenna, right? She home okay?”
    A nod. “Attacker struck from behind as she came into her apart-
ment. Must’ve interrupted whatever they were doing.”
    Mallen wondered how much time to give her before he went and saw her. The more time he waited, the more she might forget, but he didn’t want to push her, either. Not with Eric’s death so raw and recent. “I know you, Obie,” he said, “I know that look. You caught another case. A bad one.”
    â€œI must being going through some sort of karmic comeuppance. Just a nice young man with a wife and new baby at home. Takes two in the back as he’s on his knees, probably begging for his life.”
    â€œNot your week, is it?”
    â€œSon, not my lifetime.”
    â€œAnything to go on?”
    â€œNothing. Everyone liked him. He’d done time, in Folsom, but was actually turning his—no, had turned his life around. I’ll just have to keep digging.”
    â€œYou need a partner.”
    Oberon laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “That would be taken under ‘budgetary consideration’, I’m sure.”
    He found himself happy to be talking to a cop about a case again, after so long. “Were there any signs of torture? Like maybe a vendetta getting paid off? Was your victim beaten at all before he got it? ”
    â€œLike I said: he was married.”
    Mallen laughed. “The confirmed bachelor rears his ugly head and spits at the world. Nice.”
    Oberon bowed from the waist as he got to his feet. “ ‘I have always thought that every woman should marry, and no man. ’ ”
    â€œWoody Allen?”
    His friend registered a look of disappointment on his face. “Disraeli, of course.” He passed by Mallen’s coat hanging over the edge of the other chair, accidentally knocking it to the floor. The coat landed with a dull thump. All he could do was watch as Oberon picked up the coat to put it back, only to have the .22 Gato had given him fall out onto the floor with a crash that sounded like the shot heard round the world.
    Oberon slowly bent down. Picked up the pistol. Eyed it for a moment. Smelled the barrel. “Well, at least it hasn’t been fired recently. Would you like to explain this here, or downtown?”
    â€œCome on, it’s not mine. I’m just holding it for a friend.”
    â€œFor shame, Mark. That was quite poor.”
    â€œIt’s the truth. Well, mostly the truth. Look, it belongs to a friend. He’s going through some things. I don’t want him to get into trouble, so I took it from him.” His insides cringed at the lying, but he didn’t know what else to do. He thought about telling Oberon about Jas and Griffin, but there was a little voice inside that told him to keep quiet, that he could work it all out on his own. And that voice also told him that if he involved Oberon, then he knew there were other people on the force who would think badly of Oberon for helping him in the first place. He couldn’t do that to his friend, not when he was so close to retirement. He knew full well how the hard the game was played in the department. No,