Part Sixty-Eight

It was noon by the time Kelley woke up and got ready for the day. He wandered into his study and sat down behind his desk. A knock on the door drew him out of his reverie. He ordered lunch from the kitchen with a request to eat it in his study.

He didn’t want to speak to anyone right now. He was tired and angry, bitterness filled him up and he’d dreamt of Charles. He dragged a hand over his newly cut short hair, an army cut because he hadn’t had time to go to his usual barber, so he’d just cut it off himself.

Charles had stood next to his bed, laughing with that fucking hole in his forehead. Kelley felt more exhausted than he had before he’d gone to sleep. He didn’t feel guilty for killing Charles. The man was a sick psychopath.

A knock on his door announced that his lunch was ready and he stood up from behind his desk. He opened the door and took the tray from the cook. She wouldn’t send anybody else up to his study. “Thank you, Marjorie.”

With a smile and a nod of her head she left