And finally he heard Frank saying, “It comes back. All of it. Comes back on all four wheels.”
“Spill it.”
Frank’s voice was level and calm. “The night it happened I was plastered. Couldn’t remember where I went or what I did. And all these months it’s been like that, getting worse and worse until it reached the point where I gave up trying. I told myself it was me who did it. I really believed it was me.”
Kerrigan spoke slowly, the sound edging through his tightened lips. “You sure it wasn’t you? You absolutely sure?”
“It couldn’t be me,” Frank said. And then, completely certain of what he was saying, not trying to force it, just saying it because it was true, “I spent that night in a joint on Second Street. Went in before dark and didn’t come out till the next afternoon.”
Kerrigan’s eyes narrowed. He was studying Frank’s face.
Frank said, “I been sick with this thing a long time. It’s been like a spike jabbing into my head. I ain’t been able to sleep, and couldn’t eat, and there were times I could hardly breathe.”
Kerrigan didn’t say anything. He could feel the truth coming out of Frank’s eyes.
He heard Frank saying, “A spike in my head, that’s what it was. And every time you looked at me, that spike went in deeper. As if you were telling me what I was telling myself. It got so bad I couldn’t take it any more.”
“Is that why you hired the gorillas?”