Page 89 of The Angel Maker

Because you shouldn’t exist.

Except… if that was the case, why had he run last night?

Chris stared at the man for a moment, his heart churning.

“What do you want?” he said finally.

The old man tilted his head and looked off to one side, as though there were a hundred possible answers to that question and he didn’t know which one to choose.

“To help you,” he settled on. “You are suffering right now. But I have access to the best medicines and doctors that money can provide. If you come with me, I will make sure you have everything you need. The life you think is beyond you will be within your grasp again.Thatis what I want. I want to give you the choice to have the future you always should have.”

You don’t deserve anything.

Chris stood up slowly. It felt like his body was aching everywhere, and he rubbed his bruised, emaciated arms. But as weak as he was, he knewhe could easily push the old man aside if he wanted to. Step over him. Go back to the life he deserved.

But as he stared at the old man, he recognized the kindness in his face. There was no sense of threat to him. He seemed to be willing Chris to go with him but also resigned to the fact he might choose otherwise. And while none of what was happening here made any sense, Chris found himself believing the man—or at least wanting to.

After a moment, the man nodded in acknowledgment of the unspoken decision that had been made. Then he turned and began clambering awkwardly back the way he’d come, over the rubble toward the entrance. Chris followed him out into the cold, gray morning light. He looked to the right. An expensive car was waiting in the nearby alleyway, its windows tinted black and its engine idling.

Chris hugged himself against the cold. His teeth were chattering.

“Who are you?” he said.

The old man looked at him. Once again, he seemed to be considering the question carefully.

And then he smiled gently.

“Call me Alan,” he said.

Thirty-five

Katie picked up the bottle of vodka and poured herself a second shot. Then she sipped the liquid, relishing the burn in her throat. There was something grounding about the sensation, and she needed that right now. Her thoughts seemed to be whirling high above her.

“So this man,” she said. “Alan Hobbes. You’re telling me he turned up on the street one day, out of the blue. He rescued Chris and paid for him to go through rehab? All like some kind of…”

She trailed off. The phrase that came most naturally to her felt wrong but what other would do?

“Guardian angel?”

Alderson nodded.

“Yes. Except the way Chris told it, it didn’t seem to be out of the blue. He couldn’t really explain it, but he said it was like Hobbes had known where he would be that day, and that he was going to need help.”

“Like this Hobbes guyknew the future?”

She tried to inflect some sarcasm into her voice, but Alderson didn’t seem to notice.

“Yes.”

“And then what happened?”

“After Chris stopped using, Hobbes gave him a job at his estate.Nothing shady. Shopping. Cleaning. Looking after him. The whole thing seemed more like an excuse for Hobbes to have him around than anything else. Most of the time, the old man just wanted to talk. He was old, and he was dying. I think he just wanted company.”

“What did they talk about?”

Alderson considered that.

“Lots of things. I mean, Chris didn’t always tell me. But he liked Hobbes, especially once he got to know him better. Said he was a good guy. And he was generous too. On top of the salary, there was the apartment. Hobbes owned that, and we were living there rent-free.”

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