She had let herself into the
darkened building before plenty of times. Why did this time make her so
jittery? Once inside the building, she leaned on the door and listened. The
only sound was the drumming of her heart. After a few deep breaths and some
calming words, she began to relax. This was her building. Nothing was out of
place. Everything was as it should be except that Joe was nowhere around. It
wasn’t unusual to see him there at all hours. He had trouble sleeping and his
favorite place to wander was the Stakely building. Lacy joked that she should
pay him overtime for all his midnight ramblings. She wished for his company now
as she nervously made her way to the third floor and her office.
For what seemed like hours, she
signed her name over, and over, and over again. Her accountant had flagged the
papers for her with what appeared to be dozens of sticky notes. By the time she
was finished, Lacy was about to slip into a coma, but it was too late to go
home and sleep. Instead she turned her attention to a stack of trash. She had
put off shredding it for too long. This was the sort of grunt work for which
she needed a secretary. The problem was that there wasn’t enough fulltime work
to necessitate a fulltime employee. What Lacy needed was a part-timer she could
call whenever she became bogged down with the mundane tasks of office work. She
owned the building. Was it the best use of her time to operate the shredder for
two hours in the middle of the night?
By the time she was finished with
that task, she had accumulated four large bags of shredded paper and the sun
was coming up. Lacy tied up the bags and hauled them downstairs. The dumpster
was behind the building. She poked her head cautiously out the door. What if
protesters were early risers? No one was around, but she still strode quickly
and cautiously to the dumpster and heaved two of the bags onto the overflowing
pile. One of the bags rolled off. She crouched and picked it up, but before she
could toss it back on the pile, a flash of green canvas caught her eye.
One of the protesters, the man who
had followed her to the restaurant, was asleep on the dumpster. Lacy felt a
wave of pity. Perhaps he was truly down on his luck and that was why he was so
angry. Maybe he needed money. Either way, the dumpster wasn’t a good place to
sleep, especially because today was pickup day. She stepped closer, intending
to tap his shoulder, but when she stood on her toes and reached out, she saw
that he was already staring at her. This time, however, his eyes were vacant.
Lacy’s first thought was that he slept with his eyes open, but it only took a
few seconds to register the truth: the man was dead.
Jason felt like he had just closed
his eyes when his phone rang. He knew by the tone that it was Lacy. He felt a
moment of panic that he had overslept and was late to take her to the dentist.
“Babe,” he answered, conciliatory
in case he was in trouble. His room was dark, but that didn’t tell him much; he
had put blackout curtains on the windows when he started working third shift
and never bothered to take them off. He liked a dark room.
“He’s dead.”
He rolled out of bed, grabbing his
pants as he sat up. “Who’s dead? Where are you? What happened? Are you okay?”
“The man, the one who followed me.
He’s dead.”
“Lacy, more info, please.” He slid
into his jeans and zipped them with one hand, grabbing a shirt with the other.
His phone was tucked against his shoulder. “Who followed you? Are you okay?
More importantly, where are you?”
“I’m at the dumpster behind the
Stakely building.”
By the time she finished speaking,
he had grabbed his keys and sprinted to his work SUV. “Just a minute, I’m going
to call this in.” He pressed the phone to his shoulder again, radioed his dispatch
and had a couple of street units and an ambulance sent to her. “All right, stay
on the phone with me while I drive. Are you alone now?”
“The guy is here.”
His heart plummeted. “What guy? Is
here armed?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see into the
dumpster.”
He wanted to bang his head on the
steering wheel. Communicating with Lacy was sometimes a test of his patience,
especially when she was being incoherent. “Besides you and the dead guy in the
dumpster, are you alone?”
“I think so. I don’t see anyone
around.”
“What happened? Did he hurt you?”
“How could he hurt me? He’s dead.”
He gritted his teeth. Extracting
information was probably harder than pulling her teeth would be. “Start at the
beginning and tell me what happened.” He parked in front of the Stakely
building and headed to the back. Lacy had her back to him. She spoke with grand
hand gestures as if they were face to face, which they would be in a few
seconds.
“I was working. I came outside to
throw some stuff away and saw him.”
“Okay,” he said. She jumped and
spun.
“Oh, you’re here.”
“I’m here.” He pushed his phone in
his pocket and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, gulping. “It’s so sad
for him, though. He looks young.”
“I know. Stay here, all right? I
want to see what we’re dealing with before the units get here.” She nodded
again and stood with her back to him, staring at the horizon rather than see
the dead man again. What Jason saw was a man who looked approximately a decade
older than him and Lacy. He had a mustache and was dressed in layers. The air
was chill but not freezing, so Jason ruled out exposure as a means of death. He
used his pen to gently shift things away from the body, searching for signs of
a struggle or trauma. He found none. Except for the fact that he was dead, the
man looked perfectly healthy.
The units arrived and began setting
up a perimeter. They knew what to do, and they were both older than him, but
Jason was still in charge. If he thought about it too much, that unnerved him.
Today he wouldn’t stick around to carry things to completion, though; he
couldn’t. In an hour, he was supposed to drive Lacy to the dentist. While he
hated to hand off the reins of an investigation, he hated to disappoint her
more. His job had already forced him to do that too much lately.
He radioed his dispatch to contact
Detective Arroyo and the coroner. While he waited for them to arrive, he
retrieved his camera and began taking pictures. He also handed Lacy a statement
form. She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue at the familiar routine. He
winked at her and did as much as he could until the other detective and doctor
arrived. When they did, Detective Arroyo looked confused.
“You need help on this one?” he
asked. His glance fell to Lacy and he frowned. Jason moved subtly between them,
blocking his view of Lacy.
“I’m off today. Normally I would
stick around, but I have an ironclad commitment.” He didn’t bring Lacy into it.
There was already enough enmity between his girlfriend and his fellow
detective.
“As long as it’s ironclad,” Arroyo
said. He was being snide, but Jason wasn’t breaking any rules. Nothing in the
book compelled him to stick around when he wasn’t on duty, as long a there was
someone else to handle things. It was an unspoken rule that said the job came
first. Jason got that, and usually he played along, but he refused to leave
Lacy twisting in the wind when she was about to have surgery. He ignored
Arroyo’s tone and gave him the rundown of events.
Arroyo’s ears perked up at the
mention of Lacy. “Your girlfriend found him?”
“She did,” Jason said. He tried to
keep his tone neutral, but at his side his fists clenched. Beyond finding the
body, Lacy had nothing to do with this case. Jason intended to keep it that
way. “She filled out a form. I’ll write up my own report later today and leave
it in your box. If you need anything, I’ll have my cell. Otherwise, we have to
go.” He held out his arm to Lacy. She strode up to him and slipped under it,
keeping her eyes averted from Arroyo. Her meekness around the man was a relief,
but also so out of character that he was concerned. What exactly had happened
between them? If he didn’t know better, he might think Lacy was afraid. That
was ridiculous, though. Arroyo was admittedly grumpy, but he was a cop. What was
the worst he could do? Write her a few tickets?
He led Lacy to his car. They
stopped by his house and switched cars. Now that he was no longer on duty, he
needed his personal vehicle. Lacy was quiet as she stared out the window. He
rested his hand on her knee, and she jumped before covering his hand with hers.
“So what happened?” he asked.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I went to
work. I shredded a bunch of stuff, tossed it on the dumpster, and found the
guy.” She shuddered. “Why would he sleep on the dumpster? That’s so sad. It
seems like there would be so many other, better places.”
Jason didn’t comment. It was
possible that the guy fell asleep on the dumpster and never woke up. A heart
attack or stroke would have that effect, or maybe a drug or alcohol overdose.
But the man had appeared young and healthy and there had been no signs of
alcohol or drugs, as far as Jason could tell. They would run a tox screen on
him for more information, of course. For now he would go along with Lacy’s
theory of a natural death, but he had his doubts.
“What was the part about him
following you?” he asked.
“He followed us to the restaurant.”
“How did you know? Did you confront
him?” he asked.
“No, Michael saw and followed him. Then
he came to the meeting and sat in the back,” she said.
“What meeting?”
“There was an emergency town
council meeting,” she said.
“There was? I didn’t hear anything
about that,” he said.
“It was all very last minute,
apparently. People were upset about the protesters,” she said.
“As if that was your fault,” he
fumed. If there was one thing that made him angry to the point of physical
violence, it was the thought of anyone hurting Lacy. She smiled. He squeezed
her knee. “I know it’s hard, but try to forget about this morning and focus on
getting through your surgery with no stress.”
“I’ll try. I should probably warn
you that medication sometimes has an odd effect on me, or so I’m told.”
He thought it was interesting that
she made the announcement as they were on their way to the oral surgeon’s
office almost an hour away and too late for him to back out. Not that he would
have, but still. Some advanced warning and a chance to prepare himself might
have been nice.
“Define odd effect,” he said.
“I don’t really know. I don’t feel
different, but everyone says I act different. I guess you can tell me later.”
She studied him with a worried frown, ever insecure about his reaction to her
quirks. How long before she realized it was those quirks that kept him interested?
He clasped her hand and gave it a squeeze. Her brow lost its furrow, but she
clutched his hand more fervently than usual.
Finding a body in her dumpster had been
a shock, but perhaps her anxiety had more to do with the anesthetic she was
about to receive. Going under was nobody’s favorite.
By the time they reached the
doctor’s office, she was shaking slightly but forcing a brave smile. She
reached for the door handle, but he tugged her back. “You’re going to do fine.
And just think, being unconscious is that much less time you have to deal with
your mom,” he said.
She laughed nervously. He kissed
her once more and they walked inside hand in hand.
Jason stayed with Lacy during the
final prep, and then it was time for him to go. He gave her a peck and peered
into her mouth, saying a solemn goodbye to her wisdom teeth that made her
laugh, however shakily. It was hard to leave her when she was so frightened and
had already been through so much that day, but it had to be done. Once she was
out of sight, he began to relax. Of course she would be okay. Why was he being
such a mother hen? If he saw a guy acting like he was currently acting, he
would call him out for being whipped.
In the waiting room, he read
Sports Illustrated
to pass the time.
Since becoming a detective and dating Lacy, he had lost touch with many of his
favorite players and teams. Now was the ideal time to catch up. He became so
engrossed that the time flew and he could hardly believe it when a nurse poked
her head through the door and called his name.
He dropped the magazine and did a
double take when he realized half of the nurse’s head was dripping water. He
tried not to stare as he stood and went forward.
“Lacy’s had an unexpected
complication,” she said, and his heart stopped, along with his feet. He came to
an abrupt halt in the hallway. “What sort of complication?” he heard himself
croak. Was she conscious? Was she breathing? “Has an ambulance been called?”
“Oh no, it’s nothing like that,”
the nurse quickly assured. She laid her hand on his arm and urged him onward
with a hard tug. “It’s just that we had to use slightly more medication than
normal because of the red hair, and I’m afraid it’s had an, um, odd effect. We
need your help. You’ll see.” Her nails dug into his arm as she dragged him
forward.
“Because of the red hair?” he
echoed.
“Redheads don’t respond as well to
anesthetic and need more of it. I don’t know why. The doctor can explain if you
have questions. Anyway, she went through the procedure fine, but when she woke
up…um…well…” she opened the door to a room marked “Recovery” and shoved him
through, closing it hard behind him without escorting him inside. Jason didn’t
at first see Lacy. What he saw was a very wet nurse with her hands up in
surrender.
After his eyes adjusted
to the sight of the drenched dental assistant, they slowly drifted to Lacy,
blockaded behind a chair with something in her hands. On closer inspection she
was holding a squeeze trigger hose, probably used to rinse incisions. He was so
surprised to see his normally gentle girlfriend wielding a weapon that he
bypassed caution and blurted her name.
She jumped and rounded on him and
now it was his turn to put his hands up. “Lacy, it’s me,” he said.
“Yayshon?” Her mouth was either
swollen or stuffed with cotton. Possibly both.
“It’s me,” he said, but she didn’t
put down the hose. Instead she clutched it tighter and drew a bead on his head.
“How do I know it’sh the weal you?”
she asked.
“She’s been hallucinating,” the
nurse explained, drawing a squirt from Lacy that she batted away with a wave of
her hand.
“What if I told you something only
the real me would know?” he asked and used her distraction with the nurse to
draw a step closer.
She whirled to face him and focused
the sprayer on his face again. “Wike what?”
“Like you tell people you want to
go to England to see where Jane Austen lived, but the real reason is to eat
Banoffee pie.”
Slowly, she lowered the weapon.
Jason used the opportunity to lunge forward and disarm her. “They were twying
to kiww me,” she said.
“No, sweetheart, they weren’t. They
took out your wisdom teeth.”
“Dey stole my teef?” She shot a
horrified glance at the soggy nurse and reached helplessly for the sprayer
again.
Jason held it over her head. “You had
surgery. They removed your wisdom teeth because they were pushing your other
teeth. Remember? You had to wear your retainer every night. You hated that.”
Her eyes were vague and cloudy. “I
don’t wemember.”
“Let’s go home,” he said. To the
nurse he added, “Is she ready?”
“Take her,” the nurse said, dabbing
at her ruined mascara.
As he escorted Lacy down the
hallway, he had the same feeling he got when he trekked a particularly
dangerous prisoner through the jail. Everyone came to a standstill and watched,
hugging the wall, ready to either run away or spring into action. He counted
seven women and one man who were drenched and dripping.
“You really went on a spree, didn’t
you?” he whispered as they reached the outside. He was absurdly proud of her.
Lacy squinted and shaded her eyes against the sun without answering. He tucked
her in the car and slid behind the wheel.
“What did you do wif de udder one?”
she asked.
“What other one?”
“Da udder Yayshon, da weal one,”
she said. Her hand edged toward the door handle.
“I bashed him in the head and
stuffed him in the trunk. And if you don’t do what I say, you’re next, so hand
off the door.”