I shot a look at Marcus, but he remained silent, a pained look on his face. He met my eyes and gave a slight shrug that was clearly meant to convey “I told you so.”
Anger and betrayal swept through me, and I had to bite the side of my tongue hard to hold back the urge to either cry or shout a bunch of curse words. “Right. Then I’m not really sure why I’m here,” I managed.
Pietro said nothing, but the look in his eyes echoed my sentiment. Marcus cleared his throat. “Angel, you’re one of us now. That’s why you’re here. We’re mostly worried about Ed and whoever else he might be working with.”
I took a deep breath to get my ragged emotions under control. “What about the other zombies in the area? Have you warned them about Ed?”
Pietro nodded. “The ones who are in our circle know.”
“Your circle?” I echoed, frowning. “What does that mean? Are there others?”
Marcus reached and patted my leg. “He means we’ve contacted everyone we know for certain are zombies.” He gave me a reassuring smile, but an uneasy knot remained in my gut.
But I also knew that I’d be wasting my time and breath if I started asking more questions. “Gotcha,” I said instead and did my best to smile.
“Very well,” Pietro said, standing. “Then we should rejoin the party.” He looked my way as I scrambled to my feet. “Unless there is anything else you wish to discuss?”
I shook my head. He didn’t really want to discuss shit with me.
“Very good.” He beckoned to the door, and I made my escape.
We didn’t stay much longer. Marcus’s parents had already left by the time we came out of the meeting, and the last thing I wanted to do was talk to anyone else who wanted to pin me down and ask me about my education and career goals. My goal right now was to stay alive, to survive. Pietro pulled Marcus aside at one point, and I escaped to the bathroom, lingering in there long enough, hopefully, to avoid having to talk to too many people, but not so long that people would wonder if I was sick. Or, I realized later, doing drugs.
Unfortunately, as soon as I came out of the bathroom I damn near ran smack into Sofia in the hallway.
“Angel, I’m so glad I ran into you,” she said with an earnest look. “I think we got off on the wrong foot earlier.”
I fixed as polite a smile on my face as possible. I wasn’t going to make any sort of scene or be a bitch. At least that’s what I told myself.
“No, not at all!” I replied. Hell, I might have even gushed it. “Don’t be silly. It’s fine,” I insisted.
She shook her head. “No, I mean it. I spend most of my time in a lab which means my social skills sometimes leave a lot to be desired. And I realized that I probably…”
“Made me feel like an inadequate moron?” I finished.
She flushed. “God. Yes. I swear it wasn’t my intent.”
I wasn’t sure if she really was as remorseful or uncomfortable as she appeared to be, but I went ahead and took satisfaction in it anyway. “It’s cool. I know what I am.”
Sofia smiled uncertainly, clearly not sure how she should take that. “Oh. Okay, well, again, I’m sorry.”
I gave a stiff nod. “Sure. I’ll even accept it.” I folded my arms over my chest. “Thing is, you’re right. I don’t have shit in the way of education. I had a crap family life, and there was no one to tell me to finish school and go on to college or any of that stuff. And there sure as hell wasn’t anyone to help pay for it. But it doesn’t matter. I’m working to improve myself, and I don’t need anyone telling me that I need to do it. Just me.” And my probation officer. But I didn’t plan on adding that little detail.
She blinked, silent for several seconds, then smiled in the first unguarded expression I’d seen on her. “Now I’m wondering if Marcus is good enough for you.”
“I think we’re more than good enough for each other,” I said.
She dug in her purse and fished out a business card. “Look, here’s my contact info. Maybe we can meet for coffee or something someday? Start over and get off on a better foot?”
Not in this lifetime, I thought, but I simply nodded and took the card. “Sure. I, uh, hang on.” I dug in my purse for a scrap of paper and scrawled my number on it, all the while wondering why the hell I was giving her my info. I really didn’t want to have happy girl-chat funtime over lattes, but it probably would’ve been insanely rude not to reciprocate.
Thankfully, Marcus rounded the corner at the end of the hall and spied me. “Hey, I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said. “You ready to go?”
“If you are, sure,” I said instead of the “fuck yeah!” I wanted to say. I flashed a polite smile to Sofia. “So nice talking to you.” Then turned and walked off with Marcus without waiting for a response.
I held off until we were back in the truck before turning to Marcus. “Have you asked Sofia what she knows about that security guard who died?”
“I did,” he said, then glanced at me with a smile. “I promise, I did.”
“And?”
“She didn’t know him. It’s a big lab. Lots of people work there. Sorry.”
I gave a stiff nod in response. “What was all that business about with your uncle?” I asked as soon as we were back in his truck.
“What was what all about?”
Oh, I was so not playing that game. “Why’d he have to talk to you again?”
Marcus gave my knee a squeeze. “Just some family stuff. He was asking me how school was going and when I was going to graduate. Stuff like that.”
He was lying to me. I couldn’t explain how I knew, but there was something about his answer that was off. Maybe they did talk about school, but there was more.
“You never told me you were going for your masters,” I said, deciding to change the subject for now. “Where’d you go to college?”
“University of Louisiana, Lafayette. Started out as a criminal justice major then switched to sociology.”
“So you always wanted to be a cop?” I asked.
“Actually, I was going to go to law school,” he said with a self-conscious shrug while I blinked in amazement. “But then my mom developed breast cancer, and I decided to stay closer to home and put off law school. Joined the sheriff’s office and been there ever since.”
“Sorry about your mom,” I said, uncertain what else to say.
He gave me a smile. “Thanks. She’s good now. They caught it early, and she’s been clean for seven years.”
“Why are you going for a masters? Or are you going to go to law school now?” Was that the same as a masters? I didn’t know much about how all that worked. I sure as hell wasn’t ever going to go that route.
“My uncle’s idea, actually,” Marcus said. “He thinks I should eventually go into politics, and he thinks going federal could be a good start.”
“Oh. Okay.” I paused. “Is that what you want to do?”
I wasn’t surprised when he shrugged. “Sure, I guess. I mean, I can’t see staying a cop for the next twenty years.” He glanced my way. “And, as my uncle pointed out, I have certain skills and abilities that could come in pretty handy in federal law enforcement.”
Do you do everything your uncle says? I thought, but bit back the urge to say it out loud. I was silent for several minutes while I turned the events of the evening—hell, the entire past couple of days—over in my head. I also considered everything that Pietro had said, but also things that hadn’t been said.
“Why didn’t you tell your uncle about me thinking the guy from the lab was maybe a zombie?” I finally said. “I felt like an idiot in there.”
He sighed. “Angel, I’m sorry. I knew what his reaction would be. I was really hoping you wouldn’t bring it up.”
Well you could have fucking told me that, I thought but, once again, held it in.
We were almost back to his house when I turned to him and asked, “Why was it so important that I figure out the whole zombie thing on my own?”
&nbs
p; “Excuse me?”
I took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to say what I wanted to say. “Okay, so you made me a zombie, and then left the brain smoothies for me at the ER, and got me a job, and then left a note telling me to give in to my cravings.”
His forehead puckered into a frown. “Right.”
“Why couldn’t you just tell me, ‘Hey, this is what happened, and you’re a zombie now, and this is what you need to do’?” I knew what the answer was, but I wanted to hear him admit it.
A pained look flashed across his face as he pulled into his driveway. “Angel…you were a mess. In so many ways. Making you a zombie wasn’t just about saving your life. It was about…about getting you to get control of your life again.” He looked over at me. “And it worked. Right?”
“Oh, I don’t deny that. But I want to make sure you understand what you did. Yes, you had the best of intentions, and yes, it all turned out well and yes, you saved my life in a number of ways. But you basically put me in a rehab program against my will.” He opened his mouth, but I held up my hand. “Hang on. I’m not saying what you did was wrong, and I’m not mad about that. I swear, I’m not.”
“Then what are you mad about? Because, you sure seem mad.”
I shook my head. “I’m not mad. I promise. But I want to be sure of one thing.”
“And that is?”
I met his eyes. “That you never pull that sort of ‘I know what’s best for you’ bullshit on me ever again.”
“All right,” he said.
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think you get it. You do it a lot. I mean a lot.” His forehead puckered and I plowed on. “You didn’t tell me that your parents might be there because you didn’t want me to get upset. You didn’t tell Pietro about the body because you knew he’d dismiss it, but then you didn’t bother telling me that you hadn’t told him, which basically left me out in the wind.” His face was stony, and I clenched my hands together to keep them from shaking. “Marcus, I really like you, but I don’t need a babysitter. Or even if I do need one, I sure as hell don’t want my boyfriend to be one. Does that make sense?”
“It does. It won’t happen again,” he said, but there was a weird note to his voice.
“Okay, so…tell me what you’re thinking.”
He shut the engine off but didn’t make a move to get out of the car. “I…I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you this all night. Just haven’t been able to figure out how.”
The knot in my belly started to come back. “Tell me what?”
He lifted a hand and scrubbed it over his face. “Shit. I got called in to Major Hall’s office this afternoon. He asked me if you and I were dating.”
“Okay,” I said, frowning. “Why on earth would he care if you and I were dating?”
“Apparently it matters if we’re dating because…well, because you’re a convicted felon, and I’m an officer of the law.”
I could only stare at him for several seconds. “Wait,” I finally managed. “You mean, I’m not allowed to date you?”
He wouldn’t look at me. “Well…as long as you’re on probation, yes. It’s in our policy manual. I knew about the regulation, but it never occurred to me that it would apply…”
“So we have to break up,” I said, though my voice sounded strained in my ears. The knot in my belly was thick and hard, but at the same time I had a kernel of relief in there which made me feel instantly guilty. Did I want to break up with Marcus? I didn’t think that was true, but at the same time I’d been feeling like things were going awfully fast. But it pissed me right the hell off that it wasn’t my choice to make.
Marcus shook his head and finally met my eyes. “No, see, the Major didn’t say flat out that we had to break up. He just said ‘if the higher-ups find out.’” He gave my hand a comforting squeeze, while I did my best to keep my expression even. “Anyway, I’ve figured it all out.”
“You’ve figured it out?” I echoed. Had he listened to anything I’d said earlier?
“We simply need to tone it down in public. Be ‘just friends.’” He flashed me a warm smile that left me cold. “I figure we cool it off for a little while, and then when I stop being on their radar, we can pick it up again and…be discreet.” He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be fine.”
I stared at him for several seconds. “Do I get a say in this?”
A puzzled look swept over his face. “Of course. But I figured you’d be less than okay with being told we had to break up.”
“You’re right, I am less than okay with it. But didn’t you hear anything I was saying before about not babying me?”
His mouth tightened. “I’m not babying you. I’m simply finding a way for us to be together—”
“Yes, you found a way, you made this decision that we’ll have to sneak around. You didn’t even think to talk to me about it.” I could feel myself scowling. “I dunno, maybe, just for a change of pace, we could try communicating and talking shit out?”
“Since when are you the expert on relationships?” he said. He clamped his lips shut and shook his head. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry—”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” I replied, fumbling for the latch on the truck door. “Fuck you, Marcus. Just because my last relationship was shit doesn’t mean I don’t know what a good one should be like. I don’t deserve this.” I managed to get the door open and practically slid out of the truck. I started toward my car, but a second later Marcus was out of the truck and in front of me.
“Angel, I’m sorry. Don’t go like this.”
“Get out of my way, Marcus.”
He lifted his hands but didn’t step aside just yet. “Angel, please. I shouldn’t have brought your ex up. It was shitty of me. Now please, come on inside.”
“I need to go home and check on my dad,” I said, then took a deep breath. “Look, I’ve had a really horrible couple of days. I don’t want to fight or anything anymore. Please let me go home, okay?”
He sighed and stepped out of my way. I started to move past him, then paused and quickly kissed him on the cheek. “I like you. I do. But I want you to like me too, and I’m not sure you even know who I am.”
“Angel—”
“We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” I said, cutting him off.
His eyes were shadowed as he nodded. He turned away and headed to his front door while I continued to my car. As I drove off, I checked my rear view mirror and saw that he was watching me leave. But for the first time in ages I didn’t feel shitty or guilty about leaving someone I cared about behind.
Now if I only knew what that meant about me.
Chapter 8
Dad wasn’t home when I got there, and I sure as hell wasn’t in the mood to go looking for him. I was in the mood to go straight to bed and try and forget the past couple of days and, shockingly, I actually fell dead asleep about three seconds after I climbed under the covers.
I woke up sometime after nine in the morning, and even though I hadn’t managed to develop amnesia to block out the last forty-eight hours, at least I didn’t feel like hammered shit. After checking the driveway to make sure that my dad had come home at some point during the night, I took a quick shower, pulled on my work clothes and a jacket, then slipped out and headed on in to work. I stopped at an XpressMart for a fine, nutritious breakfast of Coke and a cherry Hubig Pie—because every morning should start with deep-fried pastry. But while I was on my way out, I paused to take a closer look at the newspapers for sale by the door. Once again there was an article on the front page about the body theft, and a quick skim confirmed that I was still being painted as a completely worthless human being who was clearly far too irresponsible to be trusted with such an important job, and why hadn’t the coroner fired me already?
I didn’t purchase the paper. I had no desire to read any more of it. I continued out to my car and, as I drove, did my best to soothe my soul with the classic good
ness of a Hubig Pie.
My phone beeped with a text message when I was less than a mile from the office. Anxiety slashed through me, and for an instant I was absolutely certain that I’d been fired and this was the office letting me know I didn’t need to bother coming in today.
But no, it was just Derrel texting me an address and asking me to hurry and get the van. Stupid relief swam through me. They wouldn’t fire me with a text message, I scolded myself. At least I hoped not.
I made short work of exchanging my car for the van and continued to the address of the death scene as quickly as I could without breaking any laws. The address seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t immediately place why. The most logical reason was that I’d picked up another dead body somewhere around there, but even so, there was something about this particular subdivision that nagged at me. At any rate, it distracted me from thinking about my growing “fame.”
The cars lined up along the street told me that this was a crime scene—and not just a “might possibly be one” either. Two crime scene vans, three marked police cars, and at least that many unmarked…yeah, this was something big.
Derrel was waiting for me as I got out of the van. “Murder?” I asked him as I walked to the back and pulled the doors open.
“Yeah,” he said, his tone oddly subdued.
I paused with my hand on the stretcher. Derrel didn’t get upset easily. Or rather, he didn’t show it very often. “Is it a kid?” I asked. “Please tell me it’s not a kid.”
“No.” Pain filled his eyes. “No, it’s Marianne.”
It took me a few seconds for my brain to click into gear and figure out who the heck Marianne was, but when the sound of the barking dog finally penetrated…
“Oh, god,” I breathed, all thoughts of the stupid newspaper article flying out of my head. Marianne, who ran the cadaver search dog whenever we needed help finding a body. Marianne, girlfriend of Ed Quinn. He’d used that dog’s ability to help him locate the zombies that he would later hunt down and kill. That’s why the address had seemed familiar. I knew this neighborhood because one of Ed’s victims had been found only a couple of streets away.
Angel Crawford #2: Even White Trash Zombies Get the Blues Page 8