“Because—I know I didn’t dream it,” I insisted. “It was there. In all of its dead, bony glory. And now it isn’t, and it’s bothering me.”
“I think you should be more concerned with what someone wants todoto a dead body that made it worth stealing.”
“Gross, Adam.” I heaved the window hard, and it groaned and squeaked loudly as it went up. I grinned triumphantly and pointed. “See? Look at that.”
Adam got closer, setting a hand on the sill and peering into the parlor. “A big person would have trouble getting inside.”
I nodded and was about to speak, but a wave of exhaustion hit me like a freight train. I reached out for the sill as a groggy fog started to take over. It’s weird, when the sleep attacks come. It’s like falling over in slow motion. There’s usually enough warning to keep myself from getting hurt, but it’s helpful when someone is nearby. I’d fallen asleep for only a moment, but woke to Adam holding me in a standing position, my weight of little concern to him.
“…hate it when you just topple over,” he was saying.
“Huh?”
“You awake?”
“Yeah, sorry.” Sometimes micronaps were a few minutes, sometimes only a few seconds. And I couldn’t predict when they’d hit. I wiggled free from his hold after a beat, patting Adam’s arm. “Thanks for that.”
“It’s why you pay me fourteen an hour.”
I snorted and looked back at the open window. Now what was I… oh right! I leaned my head inside, looking around the floor. “No footprints or anything, and nothing was disturbed but a bit of dust.” I moved back and swung a leg through the open window. I ducked my head in and did an uncoordinated ballet act to get the rest of me inside. “Ta-da!”
“Very impressive,” Adam said as he gave me a polite golf clap.
I laughed.
“What now, detective?” Adam leaned down to look inside at me.
Good freaking question. I’d provenwhatexactly? That I had a broken window latch and could get it open from the outside. Not a single thing in the house appeared to be disturbed. Nothing was missing either. Nothing but the skeleton only I had seen.
“Adam?”
“Yup?”
“I’m not… crazy, right?”
He looked contemplative, which, oh my God,rude.
“A little,” he said. “But it’s like the cute, harmless crazy.”
“What!”
Adam held his hands up in defense. “You dated an FBI agent once. I think that’s fairly nuts.”
“So?”
“So, aren’t you dating hispartnernow?”
“We’re not dating. We’re still performing some weird mating ritual. And Jun doesn’t work with Matt anymore.”
Adam shrugged. “To each his own.”
I’D FALLENasleep three times scrolling through the home’s security footage. It was boring as hell to say the least, but it was also a passive activity—my worst enemy. Watching television, reading, highway driving—they were all too relaxing to keep me engaged for any reasonable amount of time. I’d nearly flunked out of college because I wasn’t able to stay awake during class and hadn’t been correctly diagnosed as narcoleptic until I was twenty-three. So my professors had all thought I was lazy and unmotivated. What could I say in return to that?
That diagnosis was a blessing, because at least now I knew what was up.
I had to constantly be active and focused, otherwise the overwhelming desire to sleep took hold. Sometimes I could fight it, but usually not. It sucked when a micronap hit while I was in the middle of a conversation. Or eating. (In my defense, salads were boring.) Or repetitive chores—like washing dishes—which I kept doing even as I fell asleep. I’d broken so many dishes over the years due to automatic behavior, nothing matched anymore. But at this point, I’d learned to embrace my cupboards of eclectic, mismatching cups and plates.
It was difficult to explain what being narcoleptic felt like, other than my life was a constant state of extreme sleep deprivation. But I was coping. Considering I experienced all of the narcoleptic symptoms, from daytime sleepiness to sleep paralysis, I think I was doing a pretty decent job. It still sucked, but hey, could be worse. And at least I had a fancy medical bracelet that said NARCOLEPSY so those times I’d passed out alone in a public place, no one thought I’d had a heart attack or overdosed or… you know, something equally awful.
