“I’m going to get you some water, okay? I’ll be back in two seconds.”
“Please don’t leave me,” I whimper, clawing at his T-shirt. I can still feel the sludge on my hand, and even though I didn’t look in the basement, I know what it is. I can feel it crawling through my pores, digging its way into the membrane of my skin.
“Alfie, get a bucket of water, NOW!” Jonesy barks.
The sirens grow louder, and people start to stand on their front lawns looking over at the house.
Alfie jogs back to us a few minutes later, and I’m still trembling. Jonesy is stroking my hair, and I try to focus on the way his palm cradles the back of my head.
“I found some soap in the kitchen. The water isn’t hot, but it’ll do for a quick wash.”
“There’s a blanket in the back of Caleb’s car. Get it and bring it here to hide her from them,” Jonesy says, commanding our friend like he’s the colonel now. An officer cordons off the house again, and someone starts patrolling the area as Alfie holds up the blanket to hide me from the onlookers that have formed in front of the chain-link fence. Jonesy doesn’t leave my side for a second—he holds my hand, not scared of the sludge as he wipes it clean. He rubs each finger individually, murmuring for me to keep my eyes on him. The revulsion spikes as I feel the sludge move down my fingers. I can’t smell Jonesy anymore. I can only smell the sour rot, like cabbage clinging to my nostrils. I twist my head, bile scorching up my throat as I vomit into the front yard.
Anthony storms over, Officer Sanchez bringing up the rear. “Stop washing her hands. It’s evidence. We have a procedure, Jones.”
Jonesy lets me go, drops the cloth into the bucket of water, and lunges at the detective. “You’d think the fucking abattoir that you missed in the basement would be enough evidence for you to put that cunt away.” He points toward Travis, now lying on the grass less than fifteen feet away. An officer kneels over him, his knee digging between his shoulder blades as another officer handcuffs him. I almost laugh; I probably would have if not for the smell of rot mixed with vomit making me grimace. I’ve never seen Jonesy so mad, not even when he came backfrom overseas and I brought another guy to dinner club. Anthony stares at me for a moment, seemingly perplexed that Jonesy is trying to rip the shirt clean off him.
Alfie drags Jonesy back by his T-shirt, pushing him until he returns to me. His nostrils are flared, his eyes wide and staring at the detective until he charges off and barks orders at the police. Jonesy’s shoulders relax an inch once he’s gone, returning to my side and picking up the rag once again.
“I’m giving you an out,” I whisper so he has to dip his head down low to hear me.
“What’s that, princess?”
“I said I’m giving you a way out. You’re not going to want to deal with me if I smell like this forever.”
“Katie . . .”
“Katie?” Not princess, not baby, but Katie. My chin wobbles, thinking he might just take me up on it.
“Yes, Katie. Princess. She-devil. Love of my fucking life. Whatever the hell you want me to call you. I want to take care of you, and I’ve done a shitty job of making that clear to you if you think a bit of stink is going to scare me away. You’re mine now.”
“You know we’re going to kill each other within a week.”
“But what a week it would be, princess.” He winks, and my lips involuntarily twitch upward.
A whimpered sob escapes, and a few tears begin to fall. The reality of our situation is setting in. I thought I was going to die. I thought I’d never have the chance to see where this went. To tell him exactly how I feel.
“I haven’t spoken to you since the appeal,” I say. “I was scared by what you said to me when I was on the stand. I’m scared of how quickly this is changing.”
“I know.” He strokes my hair, his other hand brushing across my cheekbone.
“I feel weak around you, and I hate it,” I admit.
“I know that, too. God, when Lottie told me you’d come here without me, I lost it, Katie. I need to seriously apologize to her later because I was a bull running into a red flag.”
“Did that vein pop out on your forehead like when you’re losing at Scrabble?” I sniff.
“Princess, my whole head turned into a vein. I was like a cartoon character who was breathing in too much air, and my head was blowing up like a balloon.”
I smile, because he looked like that two minutes ago when he was screaming at Anthony. “Lottie will forgive you.”
“She’s good like that. But I’ll still apologize.”
An EMT crouches next to me and introduces herself. Tutting at Jonesy, who refuses to let me go as she examines me. Pushing down the horror of a stranger hearing my confession, I keep talkingto Jonesy.
“I’m sorry I came here without telling you. I was excited about a break in the case, and I wanted to prove that my gut feeling could be trusted again. I just didn’t want to get here and find nothing and have to admit that I’ve lost my touch.”
“The nearly getting murdered part was a much better option.”
