Tracking Shot by Colin Campbell (best book reader .TXT) 📕

Amy stood next to McNulty’s car, holding her bag and folded canvas chair. “Leave nothing behind. Like the Marines.”

“That’s, leave no man behind.”

“I’m not leaving my man behind.”

Now McNulty knew he was blushing. He fumbled in his pocket for his keys. Amy leaned the chair against the trunk and stood her bag in front of it.

“And it looks like I need a lift.” She leaned her back against the car and skewered him with her eyes. “Assuming you’re not going straight off to this showdown you’ve engineered.”

McNulty came closer and stood in front of her. He’d liked Amy ever since he joined the movie circus, but his history with massage parlors and shady ladies made liking a nice girl hard to justify. He guessed that deep down he didn’t feel he deserved the love of a nice girl. Telling her how he felt was something else he had trouble with, so he did what he always did, talked about anything but.

“Larry’s supposed to be keeping that secret.”

Amy didn’t take her eyes off him. “I told you before. This is the circus. There are no secrets in the circus.”

McNulty looked into her eyes. “Best be careful they’re not talking about us then.”

Amy smiled and shook her head. “Vince. They’ve been talking about us ever since you arrived.”

“That long, huh?”

“The longest first kiss in history.”

“We haven’t kissed.”

Amy moved forward and took his face between her hands. She stood on her tiptoes and reached up to kiss him, slowly and gently, on the lips. Eyes open so she could look at his face. His expression didn’t change but he didn’t pull away. She stopped and looked up at him, then kissed him again. This time she closed her eyes and McNulty did the same. He slid his arms around her waist but didn’t squeeze. This was new territory for him. He didn’t want to rush things. Amy stopped again and smiled up at him.

“You’re not rushing things.”

McNulty smiled back at her. Larry was right; she did seem to know more about him than he thought.

She let out a long slow sigh and proved it again. “And you need to make up with your sister. She’s worried about you.”

TWENTY-SIX

McNulty didn’t pause outside Newton North High School this time; he went straight to Kirkstall Road and pulled into Susan’s driveway. That’s when he paused, standing beside the car, looking up at the bungalow. The sun had gone down but the dying light reflected off the white clapboard siding, painting it a dull red as the sky grew dark. This was harder than coming to see her the last time. That wasn’t surprising, considering how he’d left the last time, with harsh words and recriminations. He leaned against the car and pushed his hands deep into his pockets. Yes, this was harder than last time.

A face peered out of the window, then the curtains were drawn. There was no movement for several seconds. McNulty felt as low as when he’d learned that the girl who’d been slapped at Crag View Children’s Home had been his sister and that she had been sent away after he’d broken Mr. Cruckshank’s nose on her behalf. It seemed that you never stopped paying for some things.

He took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe he should have called first and apologized over the phone. He nodded to himself, then pushed off from the car. He was getting the keys out when the porch door opened and Susan came out. She stood there for a few moments, hugging herself as if it were cold, then walked stiff-legged down to the drive.

McNulty stood up straight. Susan looked at her brother. The silence became awkward but neither of them seemed willing to break it. When it became almost unbearable, Susan unfolded her arms and wrapped them around him. She hugged him tight and felt his body tremble.

“Friday it was always fish and chips.”

“Except done in the kitchen, not as good as the fish shop.”

“No scraps or salt and vinegar.”

“And the mushy peas were shit.”

They both laughed, sitting at the picnic table on the deck at the side of the house. The porch light was on but the sky wasn’t completely dark yet. A moth battered itself against the glass globe. Steam drifted up from two mugs of tea. Susan smiled at her brother.

“They weren’t that bad though. Things weren’t all bad.”

McNulty smiled back at her. “The mushy peas were.”

She laughed again. “Yes they were.”

They’d spent the last half-hour reminiscing about the place McNulty never thought he’d reminisce about. Susan’s memories were happier than McNulty’s, but she was slowly drawing some brightness out of his dark. Like pulling the thorn out of the lion’s paw on the Tate and Lyle’s Golden Syrup tin, the treacle they used to have as a treat at Crag View. Out of the strong came forth sweetness, it said on the tin. Susan was trying to bring some sweetness out of McNulty.

“What I’m getting at is, it wasn’t all bad.”

McNulty resisted the urge to look on the bright side. “Fish and chips and treacle pudding doesn’t make up for the rest of it.”

Susan held her mug of tea in both hands. “It doesn’t have to. The treacle was nice. Think of that.”

McNulty softened his gaze. “Instead of the mushy peas?”

Susan nodded. “Out of the strong came forth sweetness.”

McNulty took a swig of tea. “There was nothing sweet about Mr. Cruckshank.”

Susan tipped her cup at her brother. “There’s plenty that’s sweet in you.” She waved a hand at the house. “You came all the way over here just to find me.” She rested the hand on one of McNulty’s— “I’m glad you did.” —and squeezed. “Now you’ve got to let it go. The dark side.”

McNulty tried a smile but couldn’t manage it. “You sound like Darth Vader.”

Susan wouldn’t be turned. “You ever wonder why you keep finding dangerous situations to put yourself in? The fights you