My Life as a White Trash Zombie (White Trash Zombie 1)

“Angel, I have to arrest him,” he said in low, firm voice. “And since this is a domestic violence case, he’ll most likely be held for at least twenty-four hours before he can post bail. I know this is hard, but I really need you to be strong for this. You don’t deserve to get smacked around.”

“I know that.” I did, right?

“I need to get a statement from you,” he continued. “Can you do that for me?”

I made myself nod. Hunger nudged at me again, almost tentatively, and I tightened my hands into fists. If I’d eaten as soon as I’d locked myself in my room I wouldn’t have any bruises. There’d be no reason to arrest my dad.

Or maybe I would have been the one arrested, I realized with a cold chill. Right now it was pretty obvious that I’d been the loser in this fight. I swallowed hard. Maybe it was a good thing that my fridge was empty. The one jar of brains I had was still out in my lunchbox in the car. “Yeah. I can do that.”

Something that might have been relief lit his eyes briefly. “That’s good.” He paused. “Angel, you look like you’re getting your life under control. I’m really glad to see it.”

I bit back a laugh. This was control? Yeah, I wasn’t doing drugs anymore, but that sure as hell wasn’t due to any personal strength of character or anything like that. And the only reason I still had the job was because my life depended on it.

But I managed to give him a small nod. “Thanks.” Too bad I had that whole zombie thing going on as well.

His gaze raked the living room, a look of distaste naked on his face. “You should think about moving out. You can do better than this.” He looked back to me. “You’re better than this. Don’t let your family hold you back.”

I was so shocked by his statement I literally couldn’t form words for several seconds. “That’s bullshit,” I finally managed, anger flaring at his presumption. “You . . . you have no idea what it’s like. You think it’s that easy? You think that all I have to do is walk out and everything will be peachy fucking keen?” I knew I was treading on thin ice going off on a cop like this, but I was too upset and off-balance to censor myself.

Chagrin swept over his face. “No, look, I know it won’t be easy, but—”

“You think we’re just white trash scum, right? So, yeah, I’m already a loser, so why not be more of a loser and abandon my dad.”

He frowned. “No, I’m saying that you need to think about yourself at some point.”

“You think I don’t? Fucking shit, I’m trying, okay? Give me a fucking break! I can’t do it all at once! Yeah, the house and everything is shit, but do you think I like it this way? I—”

He seized me by the shoulders and gave me a small shake, cutting me off. It hurt where his fingers were pressing onto one of the bruises, but the dismayed expression on his face kept me from trying to pull away. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice oddly rough. “I was out of line. I shouldn’t have said any of that about moving out, or your family. It was a shit thing to say. I’m sorry. I know you’re trying. I’m on your side and rooting for you, I swear.”

Well, shit. How the fuck was I supposed to stay mad and upset after that? I sniffled, suddenly pissed for a different reason as I realized I’d been crying. I hurriedly swiped my hands across my eyes. “Okay. Yeah.”

He sighed and for a weird instant I thought he was going to pull me into a hug. He didn’t, but I had the strangest wish that he would. “Now that we’ve established that I’m an insensitive dick,” he said, “are you still willing to give me a statement?”

I forced out a wan smile. “Yes. But you’re not insensitive.”

He gave me a grin. “Still a dick, though, right?”

“You’re not insensitive,” I repeated.

He chuckled, looking relieved. “You know me too well already. Come on out and sit down, and we’ll get all of this crap over with.”

I allowed myself to be led out to the living room and obediently sat on the couch. I watched him walk out the door and to his car, I assumed to get paperwork and a camera. Yeah, right. I’m finally getting my life together. Too bad I had to die first.

Chapter 18

As soon as the cops left with my dad I retrieved my lunchbox from my car and scarfed down a jar of brain soup. It wasn’t until I was lowering the empty jar that I realized I was going to have a hard time explaining how my bruises disappeared overnight. Then again, Ivanov was the only one who’d seen them, right? I simply had to hope I didn’t run into him for a few days.

The universe, of course, had different plans for me. The next morning I got a call to go pick up a body, and as soon as I pulled up to the trailer I saw Deputy Ivanov standing outside, talking to a crime scene tech.

I scowled and dug for a pair of sunglasses in my purse. Usually people wore sunglasses to hide a black eye. I was wearing them to hide the absence of one.

It didn’t help that I could tell that this scene was going to be a disgusting one. There were two crime scene techs—Sean, and a blonde woman whose name I could never remember. Both were wearing tyvek coveralls and masks, and everyone else on the scene was keeping their distance from the door of the trailer. Hopping out of the van, I yanked gloves on as I walked up to see what I was up against. Ivanov gave me a mild nod, then headed off toward his car. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or miffed.

I gave Sean a grin. “Aren’t you sweating your ass off in that?”

The red-haired man gave a tortured sigh. “I keep telling myself that sweating is better than stinking.”

“It’s a bad one?”