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But it was from Ben, not Marcus.
Body in coffin. No head. Prints match Zeke Lyons. Fuck my life.
I couldn’t help but smile. Poor Ben. I had no idea how the authorities would end up explaining this. However they did it, I had a feeling it would involve lots of lying.
It was another five minutes before my phone dinged again, this time with a response from Marcus.
Sorry, was on a call. Meet at Fowler street boat launch after I get off shift at 8?
Relief began to unknot the tension in my back. Sure thing.
The boat launch was deserted at this time of night, but sodium vapor lights had been installed a few years back that kept the large gravel lot from being too creepy. Still, I parked well away from the water’s edge and stayed in my car with the doors locked. The mere fact that no one had ever seen gators or giant squid or other nasty beasts in the Kreeger River didn’t mean there wasn’t something lurking in that dark water, waiting for someone to get too close.
Yes, this zombie was a bit of a scaredy cat.
I brought the GED study guide to pass the time and was struggling through the section on gerunds when Marcus’s cruiser pulled into the gravel lot. I quickly marked my place and stuffed the book under a jacket, climbing out of my car just as he got out of his. He was still in uniform. Damn, he sure did rock it.
We both stood awkwardly for a few seconds before I finally blurted, “Thanks for coming to talk to me.”
He nodded stiffly. “I’ve been worried about you.” I opened my mouth to speak but he lifted a hand. “And not because I think you can’t take care of yourself, because I know you can. There’s just a lot of weird shit going on…” He paused, took a breath. “And I do care about you.”
“Thanks,” I said, voice a little rough. “I care about you too.” The awkward silence threatened to descend again, and I hurried on. “I saw Ed yesterday.”
Marcus stiffened visibly, eyes narrowing. “Where? Did you call it in?”
“At my house,” I said. “And no, I didn’t call it in. Because I didn’t know how to explain why he’d be coming to my house, or why I might have more reason than most other people to feel threatened by him.”
His jaw tightened in a grimace. “Okay. I can understand that. But still, if you saw him near your house—”
“No, you don’t understand,” I said. “He confronted me.” I exhaled and ran a hand through my hair. “Marcus, it was really….odd.” I quickly related what had happened, complete with him holding me at gunpoint, his insistence that he didn’t kill Marianne, and his question about why I didn’t kill him.
Marcus scowled blackly when I finished. “I don’t like it. He’s playing some sort of game.”
“But what? He could have shot me so easily,” I said. “He didn’t. And, I gotta be honest, I never did think he killed Marianne.”
His scowl didn’t lessen. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t want to believe he’s innocent. He shot me in the head, remember?”
“Yeah yeah yeah, and he shot me twice in the chest,” I retorted. “But we’re zombies. Marianne isn’t.”
“I still don’t trust him, and you shouldn’t either,” he shot back.
I threw up my hands. “Who the hell said I was trusting him, Marcus? Would you please give me some goddamn credit? I’m merely saying that maybe we shouldn’t have tunnel vision and maybe think about the fucking possibility that someone else killed Marianne! We at least owe her that much!” I realized I was shouting. I took a deep breath to get some control, defiantly crossed my arms over my chest, and leaned back against my car.
Anger pulsed behind his eyes, but to my surprise he gave me a jerky nod. “You’re right. It’s not fair to her. So what info do you have on your holdup?”
“I went to NuQuesCor yesterday—”
“Angel, for the love of god! I told you—”
“Would you shut up and let me talk?!” My hands had curled into fists, and I was breathing hard. “Fucking hell, Marcus! You’re so convinced I’m a goddamn idiot that needs to be watched over and babysat that you never give me any fucking credit for good judgment!” Suddenly I didn’t want to go through this anymore. He wasn’t going to take me seriously. He would dismiss my identification of the security guy as surely as Ben did. “Forget it,” I said, turning and heading for my car door. “You’re just as bad as everyone else. I’m the loser felon chick who can’t be trusted and has to be protected from herself.”
He must have poured on the zombie speed because all of a sudden he was there, his hand on mine as I reached for the door handle. “Angel, please,” he said, voice low. “I’m sorry. I’m trying, I swear I am.” He lifted a hand and gently wiped at my face, and I abruptly realized that I was crying.
Well, try harder, I wanted to growl, but I knew that would be petty and useless. Instead I took a deep breath in what I already knew was a doomed effort to keep my voice steady. “I went to the lab and pretended to apply for a job,” I told him. “While I was there I heard the head of security, Walter McKinney, and I’m almost positive that’s the guy who stole the body.”
I looked up into his face, searching for any sign he believed me. But he kept his expression emotionless and I couldn’t tell either way. “Okay,” he finally said. “I’ll look into it.”
I shook my head. “I’m not asking you to look into it. I just want you to believe me.”
