“Whose name is it in? The storage unit?”
“We’re hoping to find that out this morning as well, but you’ve seen the place, it’s a dump, they don’t even have security cameras. We were able to contact the manager, who said he’d have to go through his files.”
Jesus, his files, who in this day and age wouldn’t have that information at their fingertips with the age of computers? People who don’t mind turning a blind eye to make a buck, that’s who. Paperwork is easy to lose.
“Smart to pick a location like that. No cameras, no electronic trails.”
It’s only been a couple of days since I’ve been home, but it feels like a lot longer.
The horses, recognizing the truck, run alongside the fence as we drive up to the house.
The doctor showed up shortly after Blackfoot tore out of there when he got the call the warrant was signed. He gave me a good once-over, said he wanted to follow up with me in ten days, and left me to wait for a nurse to bring me my discharge papers.
I called Carlos to come pick me up. I didn’t want to interrupt Meredith, since she was already leaving early to pick up her animals, but I should probably send her a message when I get inside.
“Need help?” Carlos asks when I climb out of his ratty old truck.
I’m glad to see mine is parked beside it. Someone must’ve driven it home for me.
“My legs are working fine.”
That may be true, but I’m not feeling half as steady as I did lying in that hospital bed. I’m pretty wiped. Inside the house I aim for the couch, while Carlos takes inventory of the fridge so he can run up to the store and stock it. I’d had plans to do that myself but I have to admit, I may have been a little optimistic.
Shooting off a quick text to let Meredith know I’m home, I lie back and rest my eyes.
I don’t even hear Carlos leaving, I’m already out for the count.
Meredith
“Hey, Dorothy Zalinski is still here?”
I was looking for Paul when I noticed her body still in the cooler. Usually, the funeral home picks up the body within twenty-four hours so it’s a little odd she’s still here.
Just as I’m closing the door to the morgue Paul comes in from outside, carrying an empty trash can.
“Yeah. I called Benson earlier this morning and left a message, but I haven’t heard back. Maybe they’re still short-staffed. Didn’t Duncan say something about a bunch of people being off sick? Could be a bug doing the rounds.”
He walks ahead of me into the autopsy room and slides the trash can back under the corner desk.
“He did mention that,” I confirm. “I was surprised to see him here, it’s usually Rob. I wonder if he’s sick too.”
“Saw him Sunday night at our monthly poker game and he seemed okay. I was late getting there, since I had the cops waiting for me when I got back from McPhee but was able to sit in on a couple of hands. I was talking to him for a bit after, asked him if he could maybe remember some of those OD cases you called about—he’s got a better memory than mine—and he sounded fine to me.”
“Well, you know how it goes. Sometimes it hits you out of the blue. Anyway, it’s a good thing we’re not short on space in the cooler, things seem to have slowed down a bit here, which is what I wanted to talk to you about.”
I got a text from Jay earlier saying he’d been released and he was home. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little stung he didn’t ask me to drive him home, but the truth is, it would’ve taken a lot of time out of my day. I might not have been able to get caught up on my work.
“What’s that?”
“Would you be able to cover tomorrow with Lauren? If any new cases come up, I can be here on Saturday, but I’m picking up Beau from the clinic tonight and would really like a day off to make sure he’s adjusting okay at home.”
I don’t tell him I’ll be at Jay’s house doing double duty, looking after him as well. I’m sure tongues will be wagging soon enough if I end up staying there for a couple of days.
“That’s not a problem.”
“Fantastic. I appreciate it, Paul. I’ve got a few more things to clear away but I’ll be leaving shortly. Call if you need me.”
He gives me the thumbs-up and I turn to head upstairs when I bump into a solid chest.
“Whoa, careful.”
“Well, speak of the devil.” I smile up at Rob, who takes a step back and raises an eyebrow.
“Oh?”
“We were wondering if you got sick as well. Are you here for Mrs. Zalinski? Paul’s been trying to get a hold of someone.”
“Yeah, sorry, I got your message” he directs at Paul before turning a sheepish smile on me. “It hit me like ton of bricks and was out of commission for a couple of days. We’re trying to catch up.”
I give his forearm a squeeze. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re doing better. Swing by my office on your way out? I have her death certificate ready.”
“Will do.”
He’s rubbing his arm as he steps aside so I can pass. Upstairs I pop in to check with Janey so she knows to put any incoming calls through to Paul tonight and tomorrow, then I disappear in my office to clear off a few emails and tidy up my desk.
It doesn’t take me long and I’m about to drop of the envelope for Rob with Janey when he walks in.
“Here you go.”
I lift the envelope. When he holds out his hand the cuff of his suit rides up on his arm a little and I notice a bandage.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I blurt out, instinctively reaching for the arm he quickly pulls back. I don’t blame him; I wasn’t too careful earlier. “I had no idea you were hurt. What happened?”
He tugs down his sleeve and looks a little embarrassed.
“A little grilling accident. First time of the year, go figure.” He rolls his eyes dramatically and shrugs when I make a sympathetic noise. “Guess I probably should’ve invited you for a bite to eat before I admitted that.”
“Sorry?”
“I was going to see if you wanted to drop by my place for burgers and a beer.”
This is one of those Twilight Zone moments when someone you thought you had pegged, suddenly surprises you. It’s a casual enough invitation if we’d been friends, but we’re not. We’re nothing more than work-related acquaintances.
Yea, I did not see this one coming.
How am I supposed to respond? I have a working relationship with the man, there are weeks I see him almost daily. I’d hate to make that awkward.
“Probably not a good time,” he quickly covers when my stunned silence lasts a little too long.
“Yeah, I can’t. I need to pick up my dog at the vet clinic—he had surgery—and then I already have plans,” I ramble, uncomfortable as hell. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I better run, I don’t want to keep Mrs. Zalinski waiting.”
I fake a chuckle at the lame undertaker joke and let out a deep breath when I hear his footsteps head down the stairs.
Poor Beau is sitting on the seat beside me with a cone of shame around his neck, clearly not impressed. He doesn’t even bark when he spots the horses in the field. Dave assured me it was only for a few more days, until the stitches come out.