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

“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?”

He shuddered. “Let’s just say, I don’t envy you your job one bit. All I have to do is take pictures!”

“I’m pretty sure nobody wants my job,” I said. “I guess that’s job security, right?”

I headed up the trailer stairs, pushing the sunglasses on top of my head. I peered in, and got a good look at the body sprawled on the floor beside an executive chair that looked totally out of place. The guy had probably been white, though with the amount of bloating it was tough to tell. He’d probably been a bit heavy before death, but now he was so swollen with decomposition I had to wonder if we’d be able to get him into the bag. He had on faded black jeans and a light blue T-shirt, though now it was heavily stained with purge fluid that had seeped from various orifices on his body. Maggots squirmed in his mouth and nose and eyes. Seriously nasty.

And my sense of smell is at full-strength right now, I thought. How wonderful.

Derrel was already inside and gave me a nod as he made notes on his pad. I didn’t want to interrupt his flow of concentration, so I busied myself with looking around and being nosy. Big black flies buzzed against the windows and tangled in the dingy lace curtains. A line of ants tracked up the side of the kitchen counter, most likely headed to the stack of pizza boxes that hadn’t been thrown out. Other than the ants and the flies, the place really wasn’t crummy or scuzzy at all. He’d kept it pretty nice and neat overall. No piles of dirty laundry in the hallway or dishes in the sink. The carpet looked fairly new, the furniture all matched, and the entertainment system was even better than Randy’s.

The computer on the desk was still on, screensaver running, and I gave the mouse a nudge to see if the guy had been in the middle of typing a suicide note or something.

“Dude loved his games,” Derrel said without looking up.

“Huh?”

He gestured at the screen in a vague motion. “That’s Left For Dead 2. And if you look on the shelf he also has Halo, Grand Theft Auto, Call of Duty, and damn near every other popular game.”

I let my gaze sweep the interior of the trailer. “Did he have any life other than this? Did he have a job? Didn’t anyone miss him?”

“Oh, he had a job.” A grimace passed over Derrel’s face. “He has a record a mile long for dealing drugs. Pot, crack, heroin, you name it. This guy was a real prize. I guess I’m not surprised that he went so long without being found.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Though I bet his regular customers were jonesing. The neighbor in the next trailer over was the one to call the cops.”

“Complaining about the smell?” I said.

Derrel grinned. “Got it in one.”