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

I gave a sigh. “Have you ever tried to find a pay phone? There aren’t too many of them.”

He considered that for a moment. “True.” He cast a sweeping look around, eyes narrowing. “You need to finish your business up here and get out of here.” He delivered a scathing glance at Ed before turning back to me. “And be careful of the company you keep.”

I nodded emphatically. “Yes, sir. I will. Promise.”

“And don’t forget about Wednesday.”

“Wednesday?” What the hell was…shit. “Right! Wednesday. Our meeting.”

“Yes,” he said, mouth twisted sourly. “Please don’t miss it.”

“I won’t,” I said as fervently as I could. Cripes, with all the other shit going on, this was the last thing I needed to deal with. And how would he react if he knew I broke into a house and found a dead body tonight? I had a sudden cartoonish image of his head exploding, and I had to press my lips together to keep from busting out an entirely inappropriate laugh.

He let out a low snort, shook his head, then—to my immense relief—turned around and climbed back into his car. I hurriedly dug the quarters out of my pocket and moved to the phone so that he’d believe what I’d said about the phone call. Well, it was partially true.

I started feeding quarters into the slot, relieved beyond all reason to hear the crunch of tires as he backed up and turned around.

“He’s gone now,” Ed muttered. “Jesus, that was close.”

“I am so going straight back to jail,” I moaned as I fumbled with the coins.

Ed let out a snort of laughter. “Yeah, probably.” I shot him a glare, but he lifted his chin toward the phone. “Don’t tell Marcus about Sofia on his voice mail.”

I paused mid-number-punch. “Why?” Then I grimaced. “Oh, right. That would be evidence that I’d been there.”

“Exactly.”

Well here’s hoping he picks up, I thought, but of course he didn’t. No, that would be too easy. I hung up without leaving a message.

I asked Ed for Pietro’s number, amused that the last four digits were the same as my ex-boyfriend Randy’s, and was completely unsurprised when that call also went to voice mail. “Pietro, this is Angel. I’m trying to reach Marcus. I know you don’t like me, but I just want to warn him—and you, I suppose, as well—that Walter McKinney, the head of security at NuQuesCor shot me and tried to kidnap me tonight. I’m worried that y’all might be targeted as well.” I paused, trying to think of some way to tell them about Sofia. “I think he killed Marianne. And…someone else. Someone you both know.” Shit, this was pointless. “Tell him to watch his back,” I said, then hung up.

“I think you did better when you were spouting incoherent babble,” Ed said mildly as he continued to scan the area.

“I think you’re right,” I muttered as I fed more quarters into the phone.

“Who are you calling now?” he asked with a frown.

“My dad,” I replied. “If the cops find my car on the side of the road they might call him or come to the house, and I don’t want him to worry.” I paused before dialing. What the hell was his cellphone number? I had him in my contacts as “DAD.” I never had to actually dial the damn thing. Cursing under my breath, I checked my watch. Nine p.m. I knew the home phone number but at this hour on a Sunday there was no way he’d be home. He’d be down at Kaster’s watching football with the rest of his buddies.

But at least I could leave a message for him.

I jerked in surprise as the phone rang before I could punch the first number in. Ed and I exchanged a wary look, then I picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Angel? This is Pietro. I’m sorry for not answering, but I always screen calls from unfamiliar numbers. What’s going on?”

I frantically waved Ed over so that he could listen in. “Sofia’s dead, Pietro. We’re pretty sure that Walter McKinney killed her. Oh, and—”

“Hold on, Sofia’s dead? How do you know? And who’s ‘we’?”

“Yes. We went to her house and saw her body. She’d been shot. And ‘we’ is Ed. And me.”

“Ed Quinn?” he asked, shock and anger in his voice. “Angel, this is ridiculous. You’re not thinking clearly and now you want to get Marcus involved in—”

“Shut up and let me talk!” I yelled. “I’m trying to protect Marcus! Look, it’s complicated, but that’s not the important thing right now.” I quickly explained about Zeke the zombie who was beheaded and then grown back, and my theory that whoever was doing it was escalating their experiments using Sofia’s fake brain research.

He was silent for a long moment. “You’re absolutely certain Sofia is dead?” he said, voice so even that it was obvious he was holding back a great deal of emotion.

“Yeah,” I said. “She was shot in the head. I’m sorry.”