Desolate(42)

I slept on the hard wood floor last night. I spent half the night thinking about the blonde who knocked on my door, and woke this morning determined to fuck her into submission for her attitude, which was better than fucking her to death in my progress of trying not to kill people.

Skipping a shower, as I have no towels, I slip my jeans on and grab my wallet and car keys. The sun is beaming down on me when I exit my apartment but there’s a chill in the air as winter takes its grip. My eyes land on the bitch’s car. It’s still kissing my bumper, blocking me from getting out. I unlock my car and jump in, slipping it into reverse, the resistance from it hitting her car jolts me forward but I keep at it. The wheels squeal in protest and the clanking of my back bumper smashing hers gains attention from the neighbors. The feisty bitch comes flying out of the door next to mine. She’s in panties and a camisole, and her hair looks like something out of an eighties porno. With eyes wide, she screams at me. “What are you doing?”

I holler back, “Backing out of MY parking space, bitch.”

Another door opens and a woman comes out in a dressing gown. “I’m calling the police,” she says, and both Blondie’s eyes and mine look to her with glares that could kill.

“Fuck off, Maureen. You make more noise than this with your sex marathons”

Blondie’s angry feet stomp towards me and she taps the window, which I lower. “You’re a complete douche and you’re fixing any damage you’ve done! You’ve made your point.” I reverse again and she screeches and slaps me through the window. “Stop it, stop!” I grab her wrist and bite it. She yelps and pulls it away. “You’re insane! What the hell?”

“Now I’ve made my point. Don’t fuck with me because I bite.” I grin and she stares at me with an open mouth. “I’m going to give you five minutes to move your car.”

She stares at me for another minute and then rushes inside, coming out with her car keys and now wearing a pair of jeans. She drives around the back of the apartments and I back out and make my way to watch Melody drop Cereus off.

It still gives me a humming in my veins whenever I see Melody. She’s aged with such elegance. I can almost taste the need to throw her world into chaos but my need for Cereus to not turn her back on me is more important . . . more important than anything else.





I BROKE LAWS, BUT NOT for the first or last time. Donovan informed me that Leighton’s death was a suspected heart attack. He was found in his own bed, no sign of foul play. He didn’t show for work and his receptionist got worried and called a neighbor who had a key so she could feed his cat when he went away. She said the only other person with a key is Leighton’s girlfriend who no one can locate. I don’t like it. Granted, he was sixty years old and heart attacks are common in men of that age, but it’s the timing.

I go into the files and issue an autopsy to be performed. I also run Dr. Jarvis’ name to get her work history. I bring up Jodie’s files and print them off to go over at home, and I go into the resident lists for Grace Manor so I can question some of them about Ryan’s relationship with Jodie. I don’t want to be right about him. I want to be completely wrong and believe he’s changed and could be fixed with medication and therapy over the years, but looking into his eyes I saw how vacant he is. There’s no warmth or love inside him and it’s just a matter of time before he kills again.

“Joey Max is being transferred for his court hearing. They moved it up,” Mason tells me, leaning against the doorframe. “I have a few cases I’ve closed out and need you to sign them.”

I gesture for him to bring them over. He drops into the empty seat opposite mine. I flick through some of the cases he’s closed and smile up at him. “Nice work.”

He nods. “You’ve been preoccupied lately. Anything I can help out with?”

I close his files after signing them off. “No, it’s not a case, it’s a personal thing I need to keep under the radar for now, but thanks for the offer.”

“Well, if you need anything on the record or not, you were my friend before you were my Captain.” He winks.





LEIGHTON’S RECEPTIONIST IS BACK AND she tells me to take a seat. She clearly took his death hard. I could help her out and send her to join him.

“You know,” I say and her attention comes to me with a furrowed brow. I’ve never spoke to her before. “More than two hundred thousand women die annually from cardiovascular disease, so it could have been you and not him.” I shrug. “It’s something to think about,”