despondency made Jack smile. He clapped his friend on the back. “Don’t sweat it, Hank. Sabrina’s a smart kid. When the day comes, she’ll pick a great guy.”
“I’ll still hate him.”
Jack chuckled. “Yeah, so will I.”
Henry grinned. “That’s one of the things I like about you, man. If anything ever happens to me, I know you’ll watch over my family. You love my kids near as much as I do.”
“Your kids are great, Hank. The best.”
For once he didn’t feel the usual pang of melancholy that being “Uncle” Jack brought him. Always before, he’d thought this was the closest he’d ever come to being a father. He’d always known he could never have kids of his own. But now he wasn’t so sure. A fragment of hope lodged in his chest the day he met Larsen. The day he realized she could stop the voices.
A flash of white caught his attention inside the restaurant. As he peered closer, he realized he was staring at the same stark white hair, the same odd clothes as on that news report last night. His blood went cold.
“He’s in there.”
Henry pulled his gun. “Where? I don’t see him.”
Jack yanked out his phone and called Griff and Duke who were inside the restaurant posing as patrons. He could see Griff’s red hair, knew he was facing the Pied Piper. Why hadn’t he called for backup?
“Griff, he’s there. Do you have him?”
“Where? I don’t see…”
A sudden crash reverberated through the phone, the sound of breaking glass and shattering plates, followed by an eerie silence.
“Griff? Griff!” In the background he could hear someone…singing. The hair rose at the nape of his neck.
“Come on.” Jack snapped his phone shut and dodged through traffic, Henry racing behind him.
Jack pulled his gun and burst into the restaurant, aiming the weapon at the whitest man he’d ever seen. The man wasn’t merely blond, but a true albino, skin without color.
“Police! Hands in the air!”
The man turned to face him, still singing the odd, tuneless melody Jack had heard through the phone. A movement in the booth beside him caught Jack’s attention.
A man was strangling a woman.
Jack fired at the ceiling. No one seemed to notice, no one reacted at all. Their expressions, to a man, woman and child, were blank. As if every one of them was completely stoned.
He ran and lunged for the strangler, hauling him off his victim. The woman gasped, coughed, then screamed when the man reached for her again.
“Stop!” Jack lifted his gun to shoot him.
“No!” the woman cried as she scrambled out of her assailant’s reach. “It’s him.” She pointed at the albino. “It’s his singing.”
Jack aimed his gun at the pale man. “Quiet!” When the man ignored him, Jack shot him in the leg. The song stumbled, but never ceased, and the Pied Piper’s expression never changed.
Jack stared at the uninjured leg. Had he missed? A second shot rang out and a bullet ruffled his hair. He dove for cover as another hit the table beside him. Were they trying to turn this into a shoot-out? Jack lifted his gun in the direction of the shots, and froze.
The only one aiming for him was Henry.
“Hank!”
But his partner’s eyes had gone as blank as the others. His partner and best friend fired at him again.
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