Stay With Me by Alison Gaylin

Author:Alison Gaylin [Gaylin, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General
ISBN: 9780062299956
Google: SllUAwAAQBAJ
Amazon: 006187826X
Publisher: Harper
Published: 2014-06-23T16:00:00+00:00

12

“Killer.” Carver said it just as Morasco entered the room. His head had been shaved and wrapped with a large white bandage. He wore a hospital gown, the white sheet pulled up to his chest, his arms, surprisingly pale, outstretched and taped with several IVs. An oxygen tube was fitted at his nose, dark eyes swimming in blanched skin. He brought to mind a big white spider, belly up to the sun. “You gonna shoot me again?”

“Don’t have my gun,” Morasco said. “So the point is moot.”

Dr. Clark cast him a worried look. “I’ll be right outside the door,” he said.

As soon as he left, Carver said, “I don’t know where she is.”

“But you saw her.”

“No.”

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“We . . .”

“What, Mark?” Morasco drew a breath. Let it out slowly. “It’s all right. Tell me.”

“My head hurts.”

“Tell me.”

“We partied a little.”

Morasco’s jaw clenched up. “You partied a little.”

“Yeah.”

“You gave her drugs.”

“We shared.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true,” he said.

“What kind of drugs?”

“Oxy.”

“Oxycodone.”

He gave Morasco a look, his eyes flat. “Yes that’s the full name.”

“Where did she get oxycodone?”

“How would I know that?”

“Where did you meet?”

“I want some water.”

“Where did you meet her?”

“I can’t talk.” He stared at Morasco.

“Yes you can. You’re talking now.”

“My mouth is dry. Dehydrated. The doctor said. It’s the . . . uh . . .”

“What?”

“Anastasia.” He laughed a little. “No, that’s a princess.”

“Anesthesia.”

There was a pitcher of water next to his bedside. Morasco took a deep breath. He walked over to the nightstand and poured some of the water into a plastic cup. Carver was still chuckling over his princess pun. Out of it. Christ, what a loser. Don’t get angry . . . He held the cup out to him. “Here.”

“Can’t hold it.” With his big, insect eyes, he cast a deliberate glance at his arms. “IVs.”

Morasco held the cup up to his lips. He sucked at it for what felt like a long time, too long. He drained the cup.

Morasco said, “Tell me how you met her.”

He muttered something.

“I didn’t hear that.”

“Craigslist.”

“What?”

“Craigslist. She was looking for pills. I was selling.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s the truth. We met. Partied a little. I sold her the bag.”

“What did she pay you with?” he spat out the words. “Her allowance money?”

“The phone. She gave me the phone.”

Morasco glared at him.

“The phone. A little cash. Some coke, too. An eightball.”

“What happened to her?”

“Fuck should I know where that bitch went?”

Morasco’s back stiffened. His fists clenched, and his jaw tensed, every muscle in his body coiling, the tiredness draining out of him until he was all anger. He wanted to punch Carver in the face. But he didn’t want to stop there. He wanted to beat him senseless and rip out his IVs and kick him in the stomach until he bled to death. He took a breath. Stepped back.

“Why did you run?”

“I need more water,” Carver said.

“No.”

“Thirsty.”

“You’ll get water if you tell me the truth.” Morasco kept his voice down as he said it, his gaze focused on the dark, swimmy eyes.

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