Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
The sparkle in the clinic receptionist’s eyes was becoming familiar, and Dan exited quickly before she could ask if he was that psychic. Five days since his photo had appeared in the newspapers and people didn’t seem to have forgotten it.
He walked down the porch steps, removing his phone from his pocket while trying not to stumble at the same time. He frowned when the screen didn’t light up.
Not again.
It wasn’t the first time his phone battery had lost all its power in a very short space of time.
Maybe he needed a new phone. He pictured his power bank, sitting on the coffee table in his hotel room.
Fat lot of good it’s doing there. He pocketed the phone with a sigh.
So much for sending Gary another text. Then it hit him. Or ordering an Uber. Damn.
He peered up Dix Street. At the end of it, traffic roared past. He’d find it easier to hail a passing cab there.
Dan walked slowly, enjoying the sun’s warmth on his back.
On one side of Dix Street were several three-story buildings, similar to the one that housed the clinic.
He imagined they had an exorbitant price tag, even if Dorchester wasn’t the swankiest of neighborhoods.
“Excuse me?” A man was walking toward him. He was casually dressed, maybe close to Dan’s age, with blue-gray eyes set in a long, thin face. His beard was flecked with gray at the chin, and he seemed a little breathless.
“Can I help you?” Dan kept his tone neutral.
The man took a step forward. “Don’t I know your face from somewhere?”
Dan groaned inwardly. Another one.
Then the stranger smiled, and his face was transformed. “Got it. You were in the paper. You’re Dan Porter. You’re helping the police catch this maniac who’s been killing gay guys.”
There seemed to be no escape. “Guilty,” he admitted.
The man’s gaze narrowed. “Then you catch him. So many of my friends are scared right now. It feels as if there’s a new victim every other day.”
Seeing as there had been two since Dan’s arrival in Boston, he had to agree. The guy showed no sign of moving on, and Dan strove to be polite. “Well, I have to be going.”
“Actually… I was going to call the police.”
Dan frowned. “Why?”
The man pointed to the Dix Center. “I work there. It’s a sexual health clinic.”
“I know. I was just there to book an appointment.”
He widened his eyes. “Oh. Then you’re probably already onto this guy.”
“What guy?” His pulse quickened.
“Working there, I get to know a lot of the guys. There’s one in particular I think you should check out. Can I tell you about him? Then maybe you can relay my information to the police.”
His heartbeat quickened. “Yes, I can do that.” Maybe this was the break Gary needed.
“Wanna grab a coffee? There’s a place right around the corner.”
The last place Dan wanted to be was a coffee shop. “Sorry, but… I’ve heard ‘Aren’t you that psychic?’ more times than I wanted to.”
The man nodded. “Hey, I get that. I was just as bad, right? But I was going to suggest I grab two coffees to go. There’s a Dunkin’ Donuts up on Dorchester Ave and a playground nearby.
We can sit on a bench or something.” He glanced up and down the street.
“I don’t want to be overheard. You never know who’s listening, right? ”
Dan smiled. A public place sounded perfect. “Sure. And seeing as you’re buying me a coffee and you already know my name, can I at least know yours?”
The guy smiled. “It’s Christopher Ludlow.”