18 Another Morning

Such a perspective was rather unpleasant. It was said that Poland is a country of free people, while Adam's resignation from the case could turn out very badly for him. Worse, if the media made a fuss about it.

Hubert looked towards the bedroom, behind whose closed door the lawyer was sleeping. The young man was in pain. His vulnerable heart and mind struggling with guilt were fighting to survive. If the media's vilification intensified, if it caused the bar to draw more serious consequences against him, this hard struggle would end in defeat.

Sensitivity, however, was a terrible thing. Or is it already hypersensitivity? To feel what others feel, to understand their suffering and their deeds, to believe in the good in every person and to experience the painful disappointment of discovering that this belief is only a delusion. No wonder it was so difficult for Adam at the moment. Hubert himself, though not a rhino either, could only vaguely imagine how much.

He decided to find out more about the accused himself. And yes, the detainee, he corrected himself with a bitter smile and began to read the first article from the top. Since there wasn't much in it, he started reading the next one. By the fifth, he finally came to some conclusions.

The corpse was found three days after the disappearance of the first victim. The boy, fifteen years old, had been raped and then had been hanged and released several times, as evidenced by the marks on his neck. The corpse was not hidden. The perpetrator left them hanging at the crime scene on an ordinary rope available in many stores. Wojciech K. was not a suspect at the time.

After two months the corpse of a thirteen-year-old boy who had been missing for three days was found. His fate was the same as the previous child. Even the neighborhood was the same. The media immediately picked up the story, even though the police had not yet wanted to confirm a serial murder. Maybe that was the law they had, or maybe they didn't want to admit that a monster had started roaming the city. After another two months, however, they had no choice.

A third victim appeared.

That's when the investigation took a turn. A brilliant profiler appeared, community intelligence indicated that someone matching the psychological portrait he created lived in the area. The suspect had no solid alibi. He was seen with the first victim on the day before he disappeared and with the second victim two days before he disappeared. Add two to two and they had to come up with four.

Hubert looked at the information provided by the media and found that although the suspect did not present himself very pleasantly, he was not convinced of his guilt. That is, he felt dislike for him, but he had not been given any evidence that would prove that he was the murderer. On the contrary, the rush to close the investigation clearly suggested that the police had arrested anyone praying they got it right. Adam couldn't help but believe his client.

And yet he blamed himself for it. Like the last idiot, he blamed himself for giving credence, through inconclusive, circumstantial evidence, to the man whom, according to the role of his profession, he had to defend.

Hubert swung the door open and glanced at the sleeping Adam. He looked innocent and sweet curled up in a ball under a warm blanket. Almost like a little boy trying to find respite after a very hard and unpleasant day.

Raymund smiled a pale but affectionate smile. He had seen photos and recordings from the time when Adam Lechoń, in an expensive suit and with deadly self-confidence, defended his client. That lawyer was a force, a dominator, despite his young age he was someone with whom one certainly had to reckon. Now it was hard to see that world-class lawyer in him. Now Adam was like a wronged little boy looking for someone's care and warmth.

For the second time in his life, Hubert thought he had found someone he wanted to protect.

***

Adam woke up with a slight headache reminding him that he had had several glasses of vodka for dinner without a proper snack. Therefore, he was only a little surprised to find himself spending the night again not in a hotel yet familiar bed. Even the blanket he recognized perfectly. What surprised him was that he was fully dressed. Although it was hard to admit, he felt a little disappointed.

It was still early, his watch indicated five-eighteen, but the bed next to him was empty. Hubert was already up, whether he had spent the night elsewhere, he wondered, and quietly got up to look around the cottage.

He spotted him on the couch as soon as he opened the door. Hubert was sleeping on his back, with his hands under his head, one leg bent at the knee, the other dropping to the ground. He looked like he had fallen asleep in a random spot in his day clothes instead of going to bed. Adam felt a stab of remorse but also gratitude that the man had given him his own bed, causing him to suffer such inconvenience. He must have been a good man.

For the first time he thought of the direct, unpretentious builder who had so boldly approached him that night and literally dragged him to bed. Who was he? No, that question should be asked differently. What kind of man was he?

A good man, was the immediate answer, for only a good man can show so much kindness to a complete stranger. Only someone good will listen without judging and make a stranger's own home available.

Hubert was a good person and that should be enough, Adam, however, wanted to know more, such as if he prefers to spend his evenings quietly in front of the TV or a book, or if he prefers to go out with friends for a beer? Is he more interested in cheering or playing sports? If he is with someone, does he prefer freedom in the relationship or total commitment...?

“Are you going to watch me like that for a long time?”

Adam twitched in surprise.

“I thought you were asleep...”

“And that's supposed to be less disturbing?” Hubert opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on Adam.

“What, are you afraid that I won't be able to resist your charms and I will throw myself at you while you are asleep?”

“One can always dream” he smiled provocatively.

Adam blushed, he could feel it on his cheeks. He cursed his fair complexion and prayed that Hubert didn't notice his reaction. To hide it, he replied tauntingly:

“And what, self-initiative was only enough for once?”

“Ho, ho, I can see that someone here feels disappointed that he was not used drunk.”

“Not at all!” Adam hissed.

“We can always make it up sober. Come here” Hubert held out his hand to him.

Adam's cheeks lit up, but now with a blush. Obsequiousness is obsequiousness, but this was an exaggeration.

“Yeah, you'd like that” he burped and avoiding the couch he headed for the exit. “Thanks for the hospitality.”

“Hey, wait. Wait!”

A sharp voice settled him in place. The words were not hostile, not even the tone, but he felt it like a whip and hunched over as if under a smack.

“No need to run away, I was only joking” Hubert approached slowly and not too close. It seemed that he deliberately did not violate Lechoń’s personal space. “Do you think I would do something by force?”

Adam crouched down more. No, he didn't think so, he acted subconsciously, instinctively.

This is stupid, he thought. Through the whole case with Kwiecień he had become so upset that an innocent joke sounded to him like a threat, a simple "wait", like a threat. And yet ad those events almost ten years had passed. He was no longer that naive, silly teenager, who let himself be done with living a substitute of tenderness.

“Of course not” he straightened up and turned towards his host. He smiled his professional smile of a lawyer. “Don't you know about jokes?”

The expression in Hubert's eyes showed that he knew a lot about jokes and that's why he didn't believe him. However, he decided to play along.

“He, he, there's nothing like a joke in the morning. But now we will be serious. After breakfast I'm hiring you at a construction site.”