Russell Houvnanian’s five-by-ten cell was dark and dim at night, but he was still able to conjure Charlie Erlich’s face.
Chase.
Though he hadn’t seen him in thirty-five years, he’d memorized every line: the slant of his chin, his ground-down teeth, the bad-boy glimmer in his eye. He also saw the image of his younger brother—at their father’s fancy home in the Hollywood Hills. It was no surprise to see him again the other day after all these years. In fact, it was damn well the highlight of his month! He’d seen him dozens of times over the years in his dreams.
With a smile, he also brought to mind the face of their father.
“Mags,” Houvnanian whispered in the night, “my beautiful Maggie Mae. I could touch you as if I was with you now. You can feel me, can’t you? I told you, didn’t I, that what was done from love could never ever be bad or evil? Only twisted that way. I told you to trust me over time and I would give myself to you in a way I have not to any others.
“And now it’s time.
“You will do this, and I will come to you, my Mags, like I’ve always come to you. Like I have always traveled from these walls and been with you in the night.
“You were always my little sweetness, you know. My muse.”
On his cot, Houvnanian raised up his knee, a smile etched onto his face.
Even behind these walls I can fly. I can walk your streets. I can be among your children. I can fuck your daughters.
He’d waited thirty-seven years; what was another day or two?
Enjoy what’s left, Charlie boy.
I always told you the master would one day be home.
And now I’ve come a-knockin’!