Page 109 of Doubts of the Egoist
“Just left with Greg.” She confirmed his suspicion without flinching, then carefully pulled her arm from his grasp, her face as robotic and emotionless as always. “Dinner will be ready soon. Would you like it served in your room?”
Kuon blinked at her, stunned as the conflict between his actions and feelings caught up with him. He scowled, took a step back, then another, staring at the housekeeper as if she had grown a second head. Then he snorted and shook his head at the absurdity of his own actions, before going back upstairs.
What the hell am I doing? Didn’t I want to stay out of his business? Where he goes and for how long isn’t my concern.
He yanked open the door to the white room, stepped inside, and blocked it with his back.
Then why the hell am I so frustrated? Not that I expect him to report to me, right? Ridiculous.
Still, he rubbed the back of his neck with his palm, making something pop under his fingers.
What if it’s another weeks-long business trip? Would he even tell me? Will it always be like this if I stay?
He puffed out his cheeks, then slumped onto the mattress, and rolled over to face the all-too-familiar ceiling.
“I’m ridiculous…” he said, then turned toward the walland closed his eyes.Maybe I really don’t know what I want. Or… do I just want too much? Have I become greedy? Sucks…
Greg whistled assoon as they stepped over the threshold of Tobias’ living quarters, taking in the smashed screens, some covered in black paint. The graffiti sprawled across the walls, slashed the leather couch with a couple of crosses, zigzagged across the fluffy carpet, and disappeared under the opposite door. “Someone will be dead by night.”
“Shut up,” Yugo growled, following the paint marks into the living room, where broken glass crunched under his shoes and something sticky was spilled all over the expensive parquet floor.
A robotic vacuum cleaner bumped repeatedly into a square whiskey bottle; its wheels were stuck with toilet paper, impeding its movement. Most of the screens and mirrors were smashed, and the furniture lay upside down. The offensive black graffiti—“Fuck you!” and “Go and die!”—suggested Mio and Tobias had had another fight. Every room, including Mio’s bedroom, was in ruins. Judging from the state of the monitors around, it was impossible to find out what had happened here quickly.
Yugo found Mio’s disemboweled smartphone on his bed, loudly signaling that the brat didn’t want to be found.
“Grab the hard drives, and let’s get the fuck out of here,” Yugo ordered, leaving the room reeking of alcohol. He tried to contact Tobias but found his number unreachable.
Jittery and annoyed, he stopped in front of the gray reception desk in the anteroom. He pressed his hands againstthe surface, leaning over to peer into the blue eyes of Tobias’ long-legged secretary. “Show me the video of my nephew’s departure. Now. Your boss’ too.”
“I’m sorry, but—” The blonde woman swallowed the rest of her sentence as Yugo raised a palm and began a silent countdown, showing five fingers, then four. When he reached three, she gulped, and her long silvery nails flew across the keyboard.
Yugo gritted his teeth as the screen displayed two separate images. He pulled out his phone and took a snapshot of Mio leaving nearly two days ago, followed by two more snapshots of Tobias arriving and departing six hours later.
“Motherfucker…” Yugo cursed under his breath and stormed toward the elevator.
Minutes of waitingdragged like merciless sand, burying Kuon under its ponderous weight. Three hours of idle waiting and his inability to focus on anything else became a refined torture.
He constantly checked his phone for a signal, blaming the storm for the bad connection, unable to fathom why Uber hadn’t called yet. It rarely took more than five minutes to locate a case, never hours. Even if the districts differed, homicides fell under Uber’s jurisdiction, so it should have taken only a few clicks.
At three in the morning, the rain stopped. His anxiety reached its peak around the same time. By four, he was counting steps to calm his mind. The longer Uber didn’t call, the more agitated Kuon became. A bad premonition scraped somewhere in his ribcage, wearing him down.
When his phone vibrated, Kuon grabbed it with bothhands. He swiped the green icon, leaving a smudge on the screen, then pressed the device to his ear. “Anything?”
His eagerness likely crept into his voice because Uber sighed. “Alas, the case is empty except for the victim’s statement, which is pretty useless. He didn’t see anything. By the way, how do you know it was a rifle?”
“Wait, what? Rick said so…” was the only polite reply Kuon could muster.If the case was empty, why the hell did it take hours to call back?
Uber cut in before Kuon could speak.
“The bullet never made it to the ballistics lab. I dropped by the 23rd District, but the evidence box was empty. No shell, no bullet, not even photos. No real witness. Someone found Herr Kainz on the ground and called the police, but that’s it. Since the bullet was surgically extracted, and you say it was presumably a rifle, it should at least have been visually identified and photographed. But there are no such records. I checked the lab; no one knew anything. The doc at the hospital said the bullet was confiscated by the police, but the lead detectives are playing dumb.”
“What the hell?” Kuon whispered.
“Leiris, are you sure you’re contacting the right department? Maybe the Organized Crime Unit is a better fit?”
Kuon wanted to deny the speculation, but his tongue refused to move. Even if Yugo had nothing to do with it, how could he be sure Rick wasn’t involved in something illegal for Gray? A rifle and missing evidence were too much of a coincidence.
Evidence like that never disappears unless someonepowerful enough, like Gray or Yugo, wants it to.
