by J. D. Allen
“What’s the word on Zant?” Ely leaned back and crossed a gangly leg over his knee.
Oscar piped up. “Unfortunately, he’ll live.”
Zant had managed to get the explosive out of his pants, but his throwing arm and decision-making process sucked. The grenade detonated about eight feet from him. He hadn’t put the car between himself and thing either. His injuries were severe, but he was alive.
“I hope it blew his dick off.” Erica had come in the back door. Without knocking. Again. As she had every day since the surgery.
“No such luck. Head and chest wounds.” Oscar lifted the new door and leaned it against the wall. While Jim had lain in the hospital, he and Erica had cleaned up Jim’s apartment from where the cops had tossed it. “How’s Chris?”
Her face fell. “She’s … um … never going to be the same again. We all know that. But the doctors say she’s trying, and that means something. They won’t predict anything after only five days.”
This had aged Erica. Hardened her. He could see it in her eyes and in the away she carried herself. She needed some help too. Maybe staying in town to be here for Chris would help her deal with the trauma. Shit, what did he know? Maybe it would make it worse.
She would eventually go back to Boston. He’d stay in Vegas and mostly he would be part of her memories—her nightmares, when the things she’d seen here, the things Zant had done, came to her in the night. That was when she’d remember Jim Bean.
Korey Anders, he was dead. And Erica now understood why.
“At least Zant can’t do that to anyone ever again.” Annie got up out of his lap and went to Ely as he spoke.
“My guess is prison will not be as kind to Andrew Zant as you think, O. The man walked on people, let guys take the fall for him. He won’t be very popular. Especially if the feds keep his money frozen.”
Jim would stay in Vegas at least that long, to see Zant facing his peers and wearing orange. After that, who knew?
About the Author
J.D. Allen (Raleigh, NC) attended The Ohio State University and earned a degree in forensic anthropology and a creative writing minor.
She’s a member of the Bouchercon World Mystery Convention National board and president of the Triangle Chapter of Sisters in Crime. She does workshops on the basics of crime scene investigation, voice, and public speaking.
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