Whatever.
It gave the scene ambiance. I liked the ambiance. It added weight to my existential panic.
The demons shrieked when the last rays of the sun spiked me in the eyeballs through the wall of metal.
Hissssss…
I crept forward, cursing under my breath and rubbing my eyes.
Liebling’s going to kill me when he sees my little present.
My pulse spiked. Particularly with some stupid emotion I wasn’t used to—worry. The other part was so common in my blood it hummed with my heartbeats…thrill. That was the cocktail I ran on lately.
Speaking of cock…
At the far end of the yard, a figure stood, tall and calm like they were delivering something mundane, except I knew better by the souring air alone. That kind of calm was always hiding something deadly.
Or embarrassing.
Or, well, both.
“Welp. Uh…Here it is,” the guy said, dropping a black duffel onto the ground with a thump that echoed between the scrap heaps. In front of him was a plastic tarp covering a very human-sized object inside.
I froze then, realizing yet again I was about to see a dead body. My demons laughed at my discomfort.
You will regret this. Touch it! Touchhh ttthhiisss.
“Oh, I regret everything already,” I muttered. “Especially being saddled with you fuckers.”
I leaned beside the wrap, staring. My mind bounced between curiosity, dread, and an inappropriate joke about my ex-boyfriend’s stuff.
“Hmm. Parcel, my ass,” I muttered. “Let’s see what kind of nightmare you are, stinky.”
The duffel sat there like it was waiting for applause, but I didn’t want to do this. If I were being honest, a year ago, when I set this in motion, determined to crack the handsome little egg that was Randall fucking King, I thought I’d be uncovering a deadbeat mother.
I anticipated a big ‘fuck you up the ass’ speech to the woman who abandoned her sons and left them to fend for themselves in the damn street, but now?
“Do it,” one of the voices crooned. “End it.You know how, Judas.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving away the voice. “Take a number. I’ve got business to handle.”
Another one chimed in, nastier and louder, like it wanted a fucking award for getting right inside my ears.
“You’re nothing, Judas. You failed even the basic concept of existence. You aren’t a hero. Let the cop go. End it. You don’t get happily-ever-afters.”
I unzipped the bag halfway and snorted at the continued jabs, their spindly fingers reaching forward and scraping down the tarp. “Wow. Very motivational. Did you rehearse that in the shower or just freestyle the misery?”
The zipper snagged on something, and the stink upped the ante.
Of course.
“You should listen,or you will try to kill us like Larry?”
I tugged harder on the plastic.
“Later damnit,” I said exasperatedly. “Can’t you see I am being an amazing fucking detective? Shut your damn faces.”
The smell hit right up my nose. Not blood, way worse, like old meat you’d forgotten to chuck out. That cold, sweet rot that had flies joining like angels in a holy choir. I wrinkled my nose.
