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I gazed morosely at the contents of the little fridge in my room. Actually, gazing at the contents didn’t take long since the damn thing was empty, but I crouched there with the door open for several minutes anyway, as if my stash would magically regenerate if I wished hard enough. The cold air flowed out onto my bare feet but I might as well have been wearing socks for all I felt it. I absently rubbed my fingertips together, dully annoyed at the faint lack of sensation. My stomach gave an unpleasant twist—like I needed the reminder that I was a few hours past my usual, every-other-day feeding schedule. Great. Everything else faded, but I could still feel the damn hunger.
Used to be that I wanted the edge taken off the world. Hell, that’s why I’d turn to pills or pot or booze. But this was different. It was like the longer I went without brains, the more dead I became.
And that scared the living shit out of me.
After Ed had left me in the ER I’d been subjected to a barrage of questions that made Ivanov’s “interrogation” look like a poetry reading. Derrel was clearly worried and distressed, Allen was annoyed and suspicious—and kept muttering under his breath about the loss of the van—and Dr. Duplessis was somewhere in between. I told my story as best I could, keeping it as close to the truth as possible while leaving out the bit about the zombie. To my relief the faint shadow of suspicion in the coroner’s eyes faded as I finished up my version of what happened. And when my piss test came back clean—thank god—even Allen seemed to unbend enough to show actual concern.>A deputy crouched beside me, and I stiffened automatically when I saw that it was Marcus Ivanov. For a stupid instant I wondered if the guy was stalking me, then instantly dismissed the thought as completely retarded. I hadn’t even seen him since that day we’d all gone to breakfast. St. Edwards Parish wasn’t very big, which meant there weren’t that many road deputies. It made sense that I’d see him more than every now and then.
He gave me a tight smile that didn’t come anywhere near his eyes. “Angel, I need you to tell me as much as you can remember about the accident.”
I let out a breath and forced myself to chill. I was the victim this time. So what if I felt like I was going into an interrogation? “Sure, though there’s not much to tell,” I said. “I was driving. I came around the curve and saw a tree in the road. I hit it.”
His eyes narrowed. “Did you see anyone?”
I hesitated. “I thought the tree was a person at first. Then I realized it was only a branch sticking up. Why?”
He pursed his lips briefly and looked back toward the tree that was still partially in the road. “It looked like someone deliberately dragged that tree onto the highway. There are footprints and scuff marks.” He paused and returned his gaze to me. “And dirt on the van door.”
My pulse thudded as my mind raced. I hadn’t said anything to anyone about the zombie trying to get the body bag, for obvious reasons. But if there was physical evidence that someone had caused the accident, would they get suspicious if I didn’t say anything?
“That’s fucked up,” I finally managed. “I’m pretty positive that tree wasn’t in the road when I was going the other way. I figured it fell or something.” I shook my head, and I didn’t have to fake the wince the motion caused. “Sorry. I was kinda rattled there right after it happened, y’know? Maybe the dirt was from someone checking to see if I was okay.” I gave a helpless shrug. “I dunno. It had to be random, right? I mean, why would anyone want me to crash?” I made myself laugh. “Unless they wanted to steal the body so they could make a monster.”
His expression grew tighter, if that was even possible. “It was probably some punks being stupid,” he said. Then he took a deep breath as if forcing himself calm. “I know you’re shaken now, but if you remember anything later on, that’ll help us find out who did this.”
“Fuckers,” Ed muttered as he jotted notes on his pad. “You could have been killed.”
“The whole situation is fucked,” Ivanov said. My stomach knotted at the vehemence in his voice. I thought he was angry at the idea that someone else had done this, but the paranoid side of me wasn’t sure if maybe part of it was directed at me. He knew me, knew my whole sordid history. Surely he thought I was somehow at fault. How could he not?
I looked away and blinked quickly at the flashing lights of the ambulance as stupid tears filled my eyes. Crap. Here I was getting all weepy because this deputy might think I was even more of an irresponsible piece of shit than I was. God, I was pathetic.
“Hey, dickhead, you’re upsetting my girlfriend,” Ed said with a not-so-gentle shove to Ivanov’s shoulder. “Cut it out.”
Ivanov leveled a scowl at Ed. “I’m sure Angel has higher standards than a jackass like you. Besides, the girlfriend you already have might have an issue with this.”
Ed merely gave a snort. “Yeah, well you’re doing your angry-scary-grouchy face. You keep doing that you’re going to get unsightly wrinkles.”
Ivanov blinked and gave me a sharp look, then his expression softened, much to my surprise. “I didn’t mean to upset you. You’re going to be fine. And we’ll find those asshole punks who did this.”
“I’m cool,” I said as I fought to get my emotions under control and maintain something vaguely resembling dignity. “Sorry.”
Ed smacked Ivanov on the back of the head. “Yeah,’cause I’ll kick his ass if he doesn’t.”
Ivanov lifted a fist with a threatening snarl, and I sucked in a breath. His gaze flicked briefly to me, registering my shock, and he grinned and lowered his fist. “Sorry,” he said, and now I could see the laughter in his eyes. “Ed and I have known each other since we were kids. He thinks he can get away with battery on a police officer, and one of these days I’m gonna slap cuffs on his skinny ass.”
Ed merely smiled serenely. “And the next time you get a boo-boo in the line of duty, I’ll be sure to tell the ER folks that you’re too much of a man to need painkillers.”
The deputy snorted. “Speaking of, you need to stop dicking around and get her to the ER.”
“Get the hell out of my way, and I’ll do that,” Ed said with a glare at the deputy. Ivanov gave a low laugh, then gave me a wink as he stood and walked off. I stared after him for several seconds as I struggled to make sense of this side of the gruff deputy.
“He can be Mr. Grouchy Pants,” Ed said quietly, “but I think this time it was more worry than anything. We’ll get you checked out, and then everyone will be happier.”
“I’m not hurt that bad,” I insisted, even as I wondered if the deputy had really been worried about me. “All I need is a Band-Aid for my head.”
“You could be an extra in a slasher movie with all the blood you have on you,” Ed said, “but I’ll be damned if I can find any other cuts besides that one. You must have hit one hell of a bleeder.”
I gave what I hoped was a neutral shrug. “I feel all right. I really can’t afford to miss a bunch of work.”
“I don’t know if you’ll be kept out of work, but since you were driving the Coroner van, I’m sure you’re going to have to do a urinalysis—a piss test.” He shrugged.
