As we make our way in awkward silence to the chief's office to inform him of our latest findings, I notice Lorenzo sending glances my way and I wince. Dread pools in my gut and I clench my jaw in frustration because I can tell he wants to say something, and I feel my guts curdling. I need to tread carefully here, watching myself lest I give away any more than I already have, it appears.
He and I may not sip suds at the cop pub down the road every Friday night, but I know him well enough to understand that he's a pretty observant guy. He didn't become a detective by missing shit, and I have been a damned fool for thinking I was snowing him. I never come to work late, living my life on a constant schedule. I always keep to the script, and I pride myself on my focus. With that said, since arriving at the Montes apartment, I've been teetering on just this side of a basket case.
And he noticed. Damn it!
"You doing alright, Lindsey," he asks keeping his tone impersonal, his eyes fixating straight ahead which I mirror wishing I was anywhere but walking down this long-ass corridor with him. I feel like there's a spotlight on me, exposing me and all my inner demons for him to view.
"Sure I am. Just like you, I hate the kid cases."
I hope he doesn't dig any deeper. I'd hate to shut him down. Lorenzo is a good guy, I remind myself, pushing past my defensive bitch armor. I just detest sharing shit. My mental and emotional baggage is mine, and I'm selfish with it. Plus, it makes me feel yucky to talk about emotions and my past. I physically shudder at the idea of those bullshit Hallmark moments.
"Okay. If you're okay, then I'm okay," he says. His tone is calm, his walk loose-limbed as if he hasn't a care in the world.
"Well, I'm okay."
He nods at my assurance, keeping his expression neutral. "Bueno. Then I'm okay."
I want to roll my eyes at how ridiculous this conversation has become but relieved that he drops topic, leaving me to my thoughts. If my suspicions prove true and it gets out just how close, I am to this case, my 'by the book' partner might use his seniority to kick me off the case.
And I have come to the realization that I need this case.
Walking with him, side-by-side, our knucks brush, his sleeve strokes mine, and I am fucking over the hormones already. Everything is getting me today! I smell him, at it his scent consuming my sanity, eating it, making me hyperaware of my own body, and how is difficult it is to keep myself distant. My own lust, something I haven't pondered over in years, is screaming at me from between my thighs. He's warm and strong, beautiful, and aloof. Anyone who desires men wouldn't be able to bypass him without casting him a second glance. My want of him is strong, it always has been since I first saw him, but I've maintained.
Maybe I'm just sexually deprived. After all, a girl has needs and I've avoided mind for so long. Celibacy ain't normal…nor healthy, I think.
Don't get me wrong, I've had a few one-nighters here and there, but not since moving to New Mexico. I'm not chaste by choice, I just hate the effort it takes to laid when you're single. All the loud and crowded clubs and bars…God! I really dislike being around drunk people and fucking them? All the clumsy, stumbling mess gets me out of the mood. And nothing stinks worse than beer breath. All in all, I'd rather not.
But my body, on the other hand, is pissed and wants this man even though I remind myself that partners don't bang. My pussy doesn't give a shit about fraternization.
Needing a second to gather my thoughts, I tell Lorenzo that I need to use the bathroom, breaking away from him to slip inside the dark, windowless bathroom. I shut and lock the door, resting my forehead against the cool wood. The exhaust fan hums softly from the dim amber light above me, easing me. I'm overwhelmed and under planned, and uncertain how to fix it. My body is shaking, and my eyes burn from the emotions I'm keeping beneath my feeble cop façade, but they won't stay contained forever, I realize, releasing a low, ragged breath.
Once I box up my bullshit, I push away from the door and cross the small space to the sink, eyeing myself in the mirror. My eyes are blood shot, the crystal-green color clouded now with stress and exhaustion.
Shaking my head and calling myself every kind of fool, I turn on the tap and run my fingers under the cool water, reaching out to release a few pumps of the cheap vomit scented hand soap the department housing keeping supplies in every bathroom. Shit stinks like ass, but it is renowned for killing germs.
And spiders, I found out one fateful night when cornered by a wolf spider. I don't know what the shit is made of, but I'm pretty certain it isn't healthy.
The light above me flickers, and I pause, glancing up at it wearily. I hate the dark. Always have since my parents died when I was a kid. Even as an adult, I have night lights all over my condo and a bright streetlight illuminates my bedroom, so I'm never shrouded in darkness. I wait, my breath pent-up, as it flickers again…and again…the threat of it ghosting out on my lingering around me like an electric current. Only when it flickering stills, and the amber glow keeps steady do I relax, returning to rinsing the death soap from my hands.
Suds swirl down the drain, and I turn off the tap, readying myself to go back out and face the world. Then…flickering…faster and faster, the light shutters making a toasted colored strobe-like light effect, the surrounding air suddenly growing cold.
The blackness…darkness…oblivion like where my parents are. Where Rose is. Where one day I will be.
Nothingness…invalid…lost and no longer in existence.
I can't swallow! I can't fucking scream! I can only stand there in the thick blackness waiting for the light to come back on and light my way once more.
Fuck! Fuck!
The world in my head spins while the room remains frozen and dark. I can hear the sound of my breathing, the only real proof that I live.
"Easy, Cobalt," I say. My whispered words comfort me at times like this, relieving me of my terrors. I realize I can't stand there like a petrified mummy and hope someone will save me. I don't get saved, don't allow others to know my fears. Only Alec knew of my apprehension of the dark and he always maintained I needed to face my shit and deal with it.
It never worked. I sat in closets, lights turned off, and I came out just as freaked out as when I went in. My ex-husband gave up, silently deeming me a lost cause.
He might be right about that.
I move, sliding my foot up the smooth tiles forward. First one foot, then the other. One…two…surely the door is closed. This bathroom is about the size of a walk-in closet.
One…two…
The light flashes and my eyes struggle to adjust to the revolving shades of amber light. Then it stills, casting the room in an eerie burnt gold. The sound of a snake hisses and I gasp, turning, searching the room for the source. My eyes scan every inch of the bathroom, and I exhale nervously. What is this? I see puffs of my breath escaping my mouth as I stand there in confusion. It's mid spring, not winter, and I don't feel the air conditioner pushing through the narrow vent above the sink, but I'm freezing!
Once I'm certain the room is not filled with squirming serpents, I decide to leave and find my partner, whose presence always seems to ease me. It's like my mind is cracking and I feel dizzy. I don't understand what's happening to me! all I can comprehend right now is I really need to get the fuck out of there and find some sanity.
A strange odor fills the room, almost gagging me. Festering flesh comes to mind, and I gasp, remembering the stink at my condo earlier in the day. It's the same odor, and my stomach rolls at the nausea it induces…and the fear.
Terror choking me, I turn towards my only means of escape. And then, my feet refuse to move, and my heart refuses to beat! I feel like a thousand bees are stinging me, the shock of what I see jotting through me. I am frozen…can't move…can't move…
Oh God!
Right in front of the door, staring up at me, is the ghostly corpse of little Diego Montes, his hollow eyes looking straight at me.
What? The? Fuck?