Jordan Castillo Price by Sleepwalker

Author:Sleepwalker [Sleepwalker]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-07-10T13:01:02+00:00

I added Luke is a rat bastard, then stared at the kissing part, as if that would take me back to the moment in the conservation lab when things seemed a lot more straightforward than they did now, when my job and Jesse’s livelihood weren’t threatened by that total prick, but just seeing the words wasn’t enough. I closed my eyes and imagined Jesse, his hair spread across my pillows, his mouth on mine—and it helped, a little.

The door to the Admin offices rattled open and Alex ducked into the kitchen. “I know, I’m supposed to be on three, but I gotta take a leak. Man, it stinks to high heaven in here.”

“Five year old popcorn—my people call it ‘maize.’”

Alex pulled open the bathroom door. “Whoa, who died in the can?”

When I went to show him where we kept the air freshener, I saw that he wasn’t talking about the lingering aftermath of a BM; the entire sink was spattered with blood.

“Oh my God. What if Trevino had come in here?” I grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and started smearing the blood around the sink while Alex stood shoulder-to-shoulder with me, flipped up the toilet seat, and peed without even bothering to close the door.

“You should probably be using rubber gloves or something,” he said. “You could get hepatitis.”

“Do you mind?”

“What? I told you, I had to go.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like we’re at home.” I stuffed the bloody wad into the garbage can, and was suddenly convinced that I was crawling with hepatitis.

Alex zipped up. I was scrubbing down my hands when I heard the scream.

Alex burst out of the Admin doors and past the prairie dogs with me hot on his heels. My wet hand kept grasping at my pepper spray holster as if groping for it could make it magically appear.

Jose Trevino stepped out of the petroglyph alcove, shouting, “Security! Security!”

Sonofabitch. That was me…and I’d never had to do anything more than lock and unlock doors. Behind Trevino, Bridget yelled, “Somebody call an ambulance.”

I don’t think a twelve-foot alcove had ever been so many things to a person before that very moment. Once upon a time, it was a tedious stop on a Boy Scouts field trip. Later, a source of irritation with its constantly reappearing letter F. Yesterday, it had been the magical place where I held Jesse up against me, tasted his mouth, and felt the heat of his body—and got caught.

Now it became the spot I saw Luke Presioso with his head bashed in. That topped everything.

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