Even White Trash Zombies Get the Blues

Page 14

“Then what are you mad about? Because, you sure seem mad.”
I shook my head. “I’m not mad. I promise. But I want to be sure of one thing.”
“And that is?”
I met his eyes. “That you never pull that sort of ‘I know what’s best for you’ bullshit on me ever again.”
“All right,” he said.
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think you get it. You do it a lot. I mean a lot.” His forehead puckered and I plowed on. “You didn’t tell me that your parents might be there because you didn’t want me to get upset. You didn’t tell Pietro about the body because you knew he’d dismiss it, but then you didn’t bother telling me that you hadn’t told him, which basically left me out in the wind.” His face was stony, and I clenched my hands together to keep them from shaking. “Marcus, I really like you, but I don’t need a babysitter. Or even if I do need one, I sure as hell don’t want my boyfriend to be one. Does that make sense?”
“It does. It won’t happen again,” he said, but there was a weird note to his voice.
“Okay, so…tell me what you’re thinking.”
He shut the engine off but didn’t make a move to get out of the car. “I…I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you this all night. Just haven’t been able to figure out how.”
The knot in my belly started to come back. “Tell me what?”
He lifted a hand and scrubbed it over his face. “Shit. I got called in to Major Hall’s office this afternoon. He asked me if you and I were dating.”
“Okay,” I said, frowning. “Why on earth would he care if you and I were dating?”
“Apparently it matters if we’re dating because…well, because you’re a convicted felon, and I’m an officer of the law.”
I could only stare at him for several seconds. “Wait,” I finally managed. “You mean, I’m not allowed to date you?”
He wouldn’t look at me. “Well…as long as you’re on probation, yes. It’s in our policy manual. I knew about the regulation, but it never occurred to me that it would apply…”
“So we have to break up,” I said, though my voice sounded strained in my ears. The knot in my belly was thick and hard, but at the same time I had a kernel of relief in there which made me feel instantly guilty. Did I want to break up with Marcus? I didn’t think that was true, but at the same time I’d been feeling like things were going awfully fast. But it pissed me right the hell off that it wasn’t my choice to make.
Marcus shook his head and finally met my eyes. “No, see, the Major didn’t say flat out that we had to break up. He just said ‘if the higher-ups find out.’” He gave my hand a comforting squeeze, while I did my best to keep my expression even. “Anyway, I’ve figured it all out.”
“You’ve figured it out?” I echoed. Had he listened to anything I’d said earlier?
“We simply need to tone it down in public. Be ‘just friends.’” He flashed me a warm smile that left me cold. “I figure we cool it off for a little while, and then when I stop being on their radar, we can pick it up again and…be discreet.” He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be fine.”
I stared at him for several seconds. “Do I get a say in this?”
A puzzled look swept over his face. “Of course. But I figured you’d be less than okay with being told we had to break up.”
“You’re right, I am less than okay with it. But didn’t you hear anything I was saying before about not babying me?”
His mouth tightened. “I’m not babying you. I’m simply finding a way for us to be together—”
“Yes, you found a way, you made this decision that we’ll have to sneak around. You didn’t even think to talk to me about it.” I could feel myself scowling. “I dunno, maybe, just for a change of pace, we could try communicating and talking shit out?”
“Since when are you the expert on relationships?” he said. He clamped his lips shut and shook his head. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry—”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” I replied, fumbling for the latch on the truck door. “Fuck you, Marcus. Just because my last relationship was shit doesn’t mean I don’t know what a good one should be like. I don’t deserve this.” I managed to get the door open and practically slid out of the truck. I started toward my car, but a second later Marcus was out of the truck and in front of me.
“Angel, I’m sorry. Don’t go like this.”
“Get out of my way, Marcus.”
He lifted his hands but didn’t step aside just yet. “Angel, please. I shouldn’t have brought your ex up. It was shitty of me. Now please, come on inside.”
“I need to go home and check on my dad,” I said, then took a deep breath. “Look, I’ve had a really horrible couple of days. I don’t want to fight or anything anymore. Please let me go home, okay?”
He sighed and stepped out of my way. I started to move past him, then paused and quickly kissed him on the cheek. “I like you. I do. But I want you to like me too, and I’m not sure you even know who I am.”
“Angel—”
“We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” I said, cutting him off.
His eyes were shadowed as he nodded. He turned away and headed to his front door while I continued to my car. As I drove off, I checked my rear view mirror and saw that he was watching me leave. But for the first time in ages I didn’t feel shitty or guilty about leaving someone I cared about behind.
Now if I only knew what that meant about me.
Chapter 8
Dad wasn’t home when I got there, and I sure as hell wasn’t in the mood to go looking for him. I was in the mood to go straight to bed and try and forget the past couple of days and, shockingly, I actually fell dead asleep about three seconds after I climbed under the covers.
I woke up sometime after nine in the morning, and even though I hadn’t managed to develop amnesia to block out the last forty-eight hours, at least I didn’t feel like hammered shit. After checking the driveway to make sure that my dad had come home at some point during the night, I took a quick shower, pulled on my work clothes and a jacket, then slipped out and headed on in to work. I stopped at an XpressMart for a fine, nutritious breakfast of Coke and a cherry Hubig Pie—because every morning should start with deep-fried pastry. But while I was on my way out, I paused to take a closer look at the newspapers for sale by the door. Once again there was an article on the front page about the body theft, and a quick skim confirmed that I was still being painted as a completely worthless human being who was clearly far too irresponsible to be trusted with such an important job, and why hadn’t the coroner fired me already?
I didn’t purchase the paper. I had no desire to read any more of it. I continued out to my car and, as I drove, did my best to soothe my soul with the classic goodness of a Hubig Pie.
My phone beeped with a text message when I was less than a mile from the office. Anxiety slashed through me, and for an instant I was absolutely certain that I’d been fired and this was the office letting me know I didn’t need to bother coming in today.
But no, it was just Derrel texting me an address and asking me to hurry and get the van. Stupid relief swam through me. They wouldn’t fire me with a text message, I scolded myself. At least I hoped not.
I made short work of exchanging my car for the van and continued to the address of the death scene as quickly as I could without breaking any laws. The address seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t immediately place why. The most logical reason was that I’d picked up another dead body somewhere around there, but even so, there was something about this particular subdivision that nagged at me. At any rate, it distracted me from thinking about my growing “fame.”
The cars lined up along the street told me that this was a crime scene—and not just a “might possibly be one” either. Two crime scene vans, three marked police cars, and at least that many unmarked…yeah, this was something big.
Derrel was waiting for me as I got out of the van. “Murder?” I asked him as I walked to the back and pulled the doors open.
“Yeah,” he said, his tone oddly subdued.
I paused with my hand on the stretcher. Derrel didn’t get upset easily. Or rather, he didn’t show it very often. “Is it a kid?” I asked. “Please tell me it’s not a kid.”
“No.” Pain filled his eyes. “No, it’s Marianne.”
It took me a few seconds for my brain to click into gear and figure out who the heck Marianne was, but when the sound of the barking dog finally penetrated…
“Oh, god,” I breathed, all thoughts of the stupid newspaper article flying out of my head. Marianne, who ran the cadaver search dog whenever we needed help finding a body. Marianne, girlfriend of Ed Quinn. He’d used that dog’s ability to help him locate the zombies that he would later hunt down and kill. That’s why the address had seemed familiar. I knew this neighborhood because one of Ed’s victims had been found only a couple of streets away.
“How?” I breathed. “Do they think it was Ed?”
Grief had carved furrows into Derrel’s face, and I realized that he’d quite possibly been working with Marianne for as long as he’d been an investigator. “He’s the primary suspect,” he said, voice gravelly. “Though there aren’t any witnesses at this time.” He exhaled. “Anyway, I just wanted to prepare you. I know that you and Marcus and Ed had all been friends for a while before…”
I nodded, not feeling a need to finish his sentence, before Ed inexplicably disappeared during a hunting trip with his best friend, Marcus. It hadn’t been at all inexplicable to me, mostly because I’d been the one who’d told him that if he didn’t run I would kill him and eat him. Not necessarily in that order. To my credit, this had been after he’d shot me and Marcus with the intent of then chopping our heads off. I wasn’t that much of a meanie pants.