Even White Trash Zombies Get the Blues (White Trash Zombie 2)

“Don’t you fucking try and run from me, bitch,” Clive told me after he disconnected. “They said they have a unit right around the corner.”

I shrugged and took another pull from the bottle. Might as well finish it off just in case he decided he didn’t want to wait for the cops and would rather take his fury out on me in person. I was careful to hold the bottle in my left hand, and deliberately kept my right cradled against me to make it look as if it was still hurt.

He fumbled his car open and snagged a towel out of the backseat, held it to his face. “Then again,” he said, “maybe you should run.” He let out a nasty laugh. “Y’ever been tasered? I’d fucking pay money to see that.”

I set the empty bottle back in the cup holder. A quick glance told me that there was still a smear of blood on my knuckle, which I left there for now. But when the two sheriff’s cars pulled into the parking lot, and Clive took his eyes from me, I took that chance to quickly lick the blood off. Gross, I know, but I didn’t want to wipe the blood on my clothes anywhere it might show.

I vaguely recognized the deputies who stepped out, but I doubted that they could do the same with me since I wasn’t dressed in my coroner’s office gear anymore. I didn’t say anything while Clive indignantly told them the story of how I’d hauled off and slugged him. He actually stayed pretty close to the truth, probably because it really didn’t need any sort of elaboration. He knew perfectly well that even a misdemeanor battery arrest would violate my probation. And, with the damage to his nose, it could possibly even be considered a felony.

The two deputies listened to his account with the occasional glance toward me, clearly thinking something on the order of, “this tiny thing broke your nose?” But they let him finish before turning to me.

“He made the whole thing up,” I said before they could speak. “I was out here making a phone call when he came stumbling around the corner with a bloody nose, then he started babbling about how I’d hit him.”

Clive puffed up. “Oh yeah? Check her hand! She broke her fucking hand on my nose!”

I locked eyes with Clive and extended both my hands to the deputies. I didn’t say a word while they carefully examined my knuckles, fingers, and the condition of the various bones.

They exchanged a look, then turned back to Clive. “Not a damn thing wrong with her hands, sir,” one said. “There’s no possible way she punched you—and certainly not hard enough to break your nose. Why don’t you tell us what really happened?”

Things really went downhill for Clive after that, though for me it was a truly beautiful thing. I watched in serene glee as he argued, then frothed, then, when they attempted to cite him for disturbing the peace, he fought, which earned him the tasering he’d taunted me about.

And, on top of all that, they found steroids and painkillers in his vehicle—enough to get him charged with possession with intent to distribute.

All in all it was the best high I could have ever asked for.

Chapter 19

As I drove home, distant flashes of lightning were putting on a spectacular show in the clouds to the west. And, at least for the moment, I was in the perfect mood to appreciate the beauty of it. Every time I started to think about how badly I’d screwed the pooch with my job, I summoned up the memory of Clive shrieking like a little bitch as the Taser probes hit him. Yeah, I’d lectured my dad about being forgiving and all that shit, but sometimes forgiveness was overrated.

My phone rang, and I was more than a little surprised to see that it was Sofia. I made a face, regretting my decision to actually put her number into my contacts list. I was in a really good mood right now, and I doubted that she had anything to say to me that would keep that good mood going. And I sure as hell didn’t want to get sucked into a “Let’s do coffee” date or something equally lame. Therefore, I channeled my pettiness and immaturity and let it go to voicemail. That was a decent compromise, right? I was willing to listen to a recording of her. I simply didn’t want to actually talk to her.

I waited for the ding that would tell me I had a new voicemail, but instead my phone rang—Sofia again. I sighed, dialed down my pettiness, and answered.

“Angel, I need your help!” she gasped. “Oh my god, I don’t know who else to turn to. I can’t reach Marcus, and there’s someone outside of my house and—”

“Whoa, wait! Sofia, slow down. Marcus is in Lafayette. What the hell is going on?”

I heard her take a shuddering breath. “I think I’m in danger. I keep hearing sounds outside my house.”

“Have you called the cops?” I asked.

“Yes!” she wailed. “I called them, and two cops came and they checked around the house and they said they didn’t see anything. But ten minutes after they left I started hearing it again. I…I think someone is maybe just trying to scare me.” She gulped. “And they’re succeeding. I know we barely know each other, but is there any way you could…come over here?”

You have got to be kidding me, I thought with unchecked annoyance.

“Please,” she said, voice cracking. “I know it’s stupid, but I’d feel so much safer if…if you could come by for a bit. The cops won’t stay but…”

But I’m a zombie and hard to kill and could actually offer a bit of security. I sighed. “Okay.” Shit. When did I become so nice? “Where do you live?”

“Oh my god, thank you thank you! I live in Breckenridge Estates. I’ll text you the address.”

I racked my brain for where the hell that was. Oh yeah, it was a new subdivision out off Highway 1790. “Okay, I’m probably only about ten minutes away.”

“I’ll be watching for you. Honk when you pull up, okay?” she said. “I don’t even want to peek out the window at this point.”

I bit back a frustrated sigh. “Sure. See you soon.” And then I disconnected before I could be pulled into more paranoid angst.

But is it really paranoia? I had to wonder. There was definitely some weird shit going on. And if I had to be honest with myself, my dislike of her stemmed mostly from our encounter at Pietro’s…and, if I really had to continue being honest with myself, from my jealousy of her and her friendship with Marcus, even though I didn’t believe for a second that the two were anything more than friends. Didn’t matter. I envied their closeness, however platonic it was.