Try Dying (Episode Six: The Nightshade Cases)

by Larsen, Patti

  She stopped short of joining the pair, having a quick look inside the trunk of the sedan. Binks blinked up at her where he crouched over the remains, the sun in his pale eyes, washing them out completely.

  “Another hour, another body.” He prodded the corpse with the tip of his gloved finger. “This one isn’t so fresh. About two days, is my guess, but Dr. Hunter can give you a more accurate time line.”

  Speak of the devil, Ray came huffing down the gravel aisle, her kit in her hand, a scowl for Gerri reminding her of what she left behind at the morgue. Determined to focus on this murder and not the dead guy who refused to actually die, Gerri stepped back from Binks and the body to give Ray space to work, spinning to join Jackson and who had to be the junkyard owner.

  Only to stop again, staring down into soulful brown eyes that wouldn’t let her go.

  The dog was huge, a Mastiff-Rottweiler cross, with shoulders almost as wide as hers and a head as big as a horse’s. Its black nose shone as its tongue flicked out and licked it, jowls dripping foam from the excitement. Clipped ears perked at the detective, head tilting to one side as Gerri’s gut growled in response.

  The dog lowered its big head and whined softly, front paw swiping over its nose, as if in apology. Gerri felt her whole being unclench as Mills’s voice prodded her. “Something wrong, Detective?”

  Gerri brushed off the question—and the look of speculation on Jackson’s face—as she joined the conversation. “Detective Meyers,” she said to the short, round man in the coveralls. A patch with “Edsel’s Salvage” gave her a name to go by before he even introduced himself.

  “Jack Edsel,” he said, offering one hand. She shook it, glancing down at the dog. It stared up at her with something that felt like adoration while Jack scratched its massive neck under the thick, black collar studded in spikes. “This is Angel.”

  Like hell. “That’s a girl?” Gerri had never seen a dog that big.

  Edsel laughed. “Biggest in her litter,” he said. “She’s a good girl, told me right away something was up. But, dummy me, took me two days to figure it out.” He patted her head and she slobbered on his hand before returning her gaze to Gerri. “I called you guys the second I found him.”

  Innocent. Gerri’s gut sighed and gaga’d over the damned dog, making it hard to focus.

  Jackson noticed. “She seems to like you, Meyers.” That nasty grin was going to disappear in the next five seconds or she’d find out how he liked being punched in public.

  Gerri turned her back on him to avoid further contact and focused on Edsel. “You in the habit of crushing bodies in cars?”

  He laughed, shook his head. “Not at all, Detective,” he said. “I know the rep places like mine get, but I run a clean salvage yard. Boys who work for me are all bonded, not an ex-con among them.”

  She’d check, but her gut said she had no reason not to trust him. “Not every criminal has been caught,” she said.

  “I’ve already emailed a list of my current and past employees to your partner here.” He jerked his thumb at Jackson who grunted agreement. “Anything I can do, Detective. My boy’s a street cop in LA. I respect the law.”

  Fair enough. “And no idea who this guy is?” Gerri glanced over at Ray who waved something in her direction. Looked like a wallet.

  “Never seen him before,” Edsel said. “Sorry I’m not more help.”

  “You’ve been nothing but helpful,” she said, surprised to find herself leaning forward to rub Angel’s ears. The dog leaned into Gerri’s touch, groaning her pleasure before drooling on the arm of her jacket.

  “Angel’s a great judge of character, Detective.” Edsel said with a grin. “She likes you, I like you.” Jackson snorted and the dog growled at him, suddenly alert.

  “Like the man said,” Gerri grinned at Pierce. “Great judge of character.”

  Jackson snarled something uncomplimentary and stalked off.

  Gerri joined Binks and Ray who handed over a wallet. Gerri helped herself to a glove, peeling open the leather stuck together with the fluids of the dead body. This should have grossed her out, but Gerri found investigation fascinating, no matter the stench and effluvia.

  “He’s dead, right?” She met Ray’s eyes as her friend coughed a laugh.

  “Very,” the brunette said, hazel gaze twinkling.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Binks blinked at them, adjusting his glasses with one gloved hand.

  “Private joke.” Gerri pulled free the driver’s license and swore softly, jaw jumping as her teeth clamped together. “One that’s getting old, fast.” She turned the ID around to show Ray who stared with wide eyes. Jordan Michaels smiled back from the thin plastic.

  Boy had a lot of talking to do.

  ***

  INT. – KINSEY’S APARTMENT - MORNING

  Kinsey paced her bedroom, listening to the sound of water splashing in her shower. She’d meant to offer him the spare room, really. Had no intention of allowing Jordan into her master suite. But, somehow, he’d wandered into her domain with a cheery grin and an immediate need to shower. She’d watched him reach for the hem of the scrub shirt he’d borrowed from Ray, before turning her back and hurrying from the room.

  Was it safe to leave him in her space alone? Kinsey couldn’t think straight for some reason, her heart pounding, body warm in places she’d forgotten about a long time ago. She’d given up on men and their contrary asshole natures, preferring the electric form of entertainment. Which made her blush all the harder. What if he went through her drawers while he was in there and found her vibrator?

  Hideous embarrassment drove her from the apartment and down the hall to her neighbor, Mrs. Schweitzer. Donna greeted her with a sweet smile, as always.

  “Kinsey, darling, where have you been?” She pulled the blonde into her condo with a firm hand, guiding her to the large, airy kitchen, a match for Kinsey’s unit. A cup of hasty tea and a promise for a longer visit and she was heading home with an armload of discards Donna’s son left behind when he went back East.

  Kinsey expected Jordan to be done when she returned. Set the pile of clothes on the end of the bed and turned to leave her room, to give him privacy. But, the door was open, steam pouring out, enough of it clouding the glass in her shower to offer him some protection from her gaze but not enough she missed the long, lean lines of his body or the way his hips moved when he soaped his—

  A gasp of air escaped her, a small giggle.

  “Kinsey?” Jordan’s voice called out, cheerful, sweet. “You want to join me?”

  Another laugh, breathless. The shower turned off while her brain screamed at her to leave, her feet rooted on the spot. A moment later, the door opened the rest of the way, the fragrant scent of steam washing over her. That was the source of the sudden heat in her body, the sweat forming at her lower back. Of course it was. Not the sight of Jordan Michaels standing at the threshold of her bedroom with his pale blue eyes devouring her, one hand loosely holding a towel around his waist.

  He worked out. Her eyes flitted over his hard, chiseled stomach, the loins of Apollo curving down into the fold of the towel, hairless chest rippling as he moved—

  Another gasp of breath as he dropped his hold on his covering and closed the distance between them. She really needed to look up, into his eyes. Not down.

  Not down.

  And then his lips were on hers and she pushed hard against him, falling on top of him on the bed. The pile of clothing scattered on the floor, shoved aside as he clawed at her T-shirt, pulling it over Kinsey’s head. She hated the time it took to clear her, time away from being pressed against him but when she fell forward again, her flesh on his hot, damp skin, she groaned.

  Her mouth devoured his, ate him up and Jordan answered with as much eagerness, his hands diving down to the button on her jeans, fingers jerking at the zipper. Burning fingers slid under the heavy denim and over her hips, between her flesh and the fabric of her thong. Grunting with need, Kinsey helped, shoving a
nd tugging at her clothing, wondering why the hell it was so hard to just get undressed already.

  Damn it.

  When her phone rang, she was half on top of Jordan, half dangling over the edge of the bed cursing at one pant leg, knowing how unromantic and passionate this dance of denim had to be for him. Kinsey was so startled by the interruption she let out a soft shriek as her grip on him released, her weight shifted too far, tumbling her to the floor on top of the clothes she’d brought him. Jordan laughed, leaning over the edge of the bed for her, panting, eyes shining. But, the harsh jangle of the phone ringing brought her back to reality and, with an embarrassed grin, she grasped her smartphone and ran from the room, closing the door behind her.

  “Kins.” Gerri’s harsh tone sounded furious.

  “What’s up?” It was hard to sound normal and calm while hopping on one foot, trying to shove her leg back into her jeans.

  “You okay?” Gerri’s gruffness softened, worry in her tone.

  “Fine, fine.” The door cracked open while she hastily did up her button and zipper, realizing then she was in just her bra. Jordan’s sweet, devilish grin melted her into a puddle all over again, but he tossed her the T-shirt she’d discarded. Kinsey turned her back on him, slipping her head through the hole, struggling into the sleeves again.

  “You sound like you’re out of breath.” Now the suspicion came. “Where is Jordan?”

  “He’s here, he’s fine, we’re both fine.” Sure, she was fine when he stepped up behind her and tucked his body against hers, hot breath on her neck. Kinsey almost threw the phone and said screw it. All but for Gerri’s anger that held her anchored.

  “Bring his ass to the precinct,” the detective snapped. “Or I’m coming to get him.”

  ***

  INT. – KINSEY’S APARTMENT – MORNING

  Kinsey turned to face Jordan as Gerri filled her in, heart racing for a brand new reason. “We’ll be right there.” And hung up on the detective mid-word. That would piss Gerri off. But Kinsey’s self-doubt and fear she’d done it again—trusted someone when she shouldn’t have, why was she so stupid and naive?—surfaced. “Jordan,” she said. “We have to talk.”

  He backed off a little, though only slightly, hands still on her waist, sexy smile fading to concern. “What happened?”

  Kinsey stared down at her phone. “Gerri just found a body,” she said, “and he had your ID on him.”

  Jordan finally let her go, shaking his head, looking hurt and afraid. “No, it can’t be.”

  “You know who he is?” She held herself rigid against the truth even as Jordan sank to the couch and covered his face with both hands.

  “Ryan Beecher,” he said. “My best friend. Keeper of the wallet.” He looked up with a half smile, half grimace. “It can’t be Ryan. I saw him… no, wait. Two nights ago.” Jordan slumped forward. “This can’t be happening.”

  “We have to go down to the precinct to talk to Gerri.” Kinsey took a seat next to him, her doubt fading. This was genuine grief for his friend. Surely he had nothing to do with the death? And yet, she’d been fooled before. By guys in the past, by those who lied for a living. She’d never figured out how to tell the truth from manipulation and had her grandmother to thank for that.

  Jordan grasped one of her hands as she rubbed his back with the other.

  “We went out,” he said. “To a club. Exotica, I think it’s called. I gave him my wallet because he was driving.” Jordan shrugged. “Made drunken sense at the time. We took turns looking out for each other. Wing men, you know?”

  Kinsey nodded, thinking of Gerri and Ray. If ever she understood, it was with those two amazing women. And here she was, letting them down by taking a stranger’s word. And yet, she couldn’t help herself. Jordan was so…

  He needed her.

  “I’m going back to Vegas.” A tear dripped from one eye onto the carpet as he stared down at the floor. “When I died and came back, Ryan had a plan. The best magic act anywhere. No one would ever find out how I did it. And we’d be millionaires.” He looked up and into her eyes. “And now, that will never happen, will it?”

  “Jordan.” She squeezed his hand. “Who is trying to kill you?”

  He barked a laugh, wiped at his face. “Who isn’t, you mean? I’ve made mistakes, Kinsey. I’m not a good guy.” He slipped his hand free of hers, put some distance between them. “Not the kind of guy someone like you would go for.”

  Right, because the men she had the chance to date were princes and kings. Assholes, for the most part. Or weaklings living in their mother’s basements while they worked on their third PhD dissertation and whined over their favorite sci-fi show’s cancellation on fanboy message boards.

  “I don’t care what you’ve done,” she said, meaning every word while he softened next to her. “As long as you haven’t hurt anyone.”

  He shook his head, fingers tracing down her cheek. “Who are you?” He smiled, innocent and boyish. “And how can you make me feel this way after just meeting you?”

  So, it wasn’t just her? Kinsey’s heart soared while logic took over. Gerri first. This weird emotional connection after. Plan firmly in place, she stood, pulling him to his feet.

  “We’re going down to the 9th to talk to Gerri and find out who killed your friend.” She crossed to the bedroom, retrieved the sandals Donna gave her, tossed them to him, waited by the door for him to finish, which he did slowly, reluctantly. “And, if you’re good, we’ll come back here later and… talk some more.”

  He grinned suddenly, coming toward her, lifting her from her feet, nuzzling her neck. “Promise?”

  “I said,” she laughed, “if you’re good.” She hoped he was bad.

  So very bad.

  “I’d rather just stay right here, right now.” Blue eyes burned with need.

  It took all of her willpower to step back when he set her down and place a firm palm on his chest. “There’s a lot more going on here than just the two of us,” she said. “You’re… different, Jordan. And, so am I.”

  That caught his attention. “You can die and come back to life, too?”

  “Not exactly.” Gerri had warned her without words against bringing up the book. But, if Jordan was paranormal—and the odds were excellent at this point—he deserved to know what he was. “Come with me, and I’ll tell you everything.”

  Frowning softly but holding her hand, he nodded and followed her out of the apartment. Kinsey’s mind spun, trying to find a place to start, what to share and what to hold back, as they descended the steps toward her parking spot.

  She missed the sound of the shot, but not the effect, head jerking around as something wet hit the side of her face, spraying over her cheek and throat, soaking into the cotton of her T-shirt. Jordan was already falling, eyes rolling back into his head, a gaping hole in his temple. She was lucky, she realized in logical retreat as she collapsed to the pavement beside him to the sound of tires squealing and an engine gunning. If she’d been a little taller, the exiting bullet would have taken the top of her head off and she’d be dead, too.

  Well, for real. Unlike Jordan.

  Kinsey had the presence of mind to crawl forward, to peer around the back of her car, and catch a glimpse of the black sedan racing away before fishing her phone from her bag with a surprisingly steady hand, ignoring the drip of Jordan’s blood tracing down her skin as she hit dial and waited for Gerri to pick up.

  While deep inside she shrieked with the need to wipe away his blood.

  ***

  ***

  INT. – SILVER CITY MORGUE - DAY

  Ray stood back, arms crossed over her chest over her white lab coat as Gerri gave Kinsey the once over.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?” This was the third time since the detective and medical examiner raced to Kinsey’s condo the redhead asked the slim blonde the same question.

  “I’m fine.” Kinsey seemed to try to shake off Gerri’s attention physically, turning half away from the taller woman
, facing the dead body on Ray’s slab. The sort-of dead body, that was. Ray could only assume he’d wake up eventually, considering the giant exit wound in the side of his skull was closing over despite his lack of a heartbeat.

  The other man? Not so much. He, she assured the detective, wouldn’t rise again. Unless he was a true zombie. The putrid stench of his two-day-old decaying corpse was oddly soothing to the brunette. Reminded her of the normal, rational state of affairs when it came to death and dying.

  Maybe it was Jordan’s anomalous nature, the fact he went against everything she was trained to believe in, that Ray had taken a sharp dislike to the man. He was certainly pretty enough, and seemed charming. But, too charming? About as far from her type as he could get, and yet with a thrilling vein of charisma that touched her when she least expected it. And that made her all the more suspicious. She’d never been lured by masculine wiles. What made him so different?

  “Please, tell me you didn’t spill any of the weird stuff to him.” Gerri wasn’t letting go of her emotional grip on Kinsey.

  “He has the right to know.” The blonde’s ponytail shivered as she glanced over her shoulder at the Jordan. “But no, not yet.”

  “Like it or not, Kins,” Gerri said, “he’s a crook and a con artist.”

  Kinsey looked up with pleading eyes to Ray. She felt slightly guilty ganging up on the anthropologist, but Gerri was absolutely right. “He might be a darling toss in the sack,” she said, “and by all means, find out. But don’t trust him, Kinsey. Not for a moment.”

  Rebellion flashed. “You don’t know him.”

  “Neither do you.” Ray turned away, unable to bear the hurt look on Kinsey’s face any longer. “Besides, as I said earlier, I can see all of his deaths, layered over each other. He has many more to come, all violent. Not the life of a man who lives peacefully or carefully.” She frowned as she remembered their earlier conversation. “But, if your theory of my ability is correct, and he’s a paranormal, how is it I’m seeing how he dies?”