Fish Out of Water (6 page)

But Doug’s motto is “don’t ask, don’t tell”.

Or it was, until I explained that was also the official US policy regarding homosexuality in the forces. Now it’s “ask no questions, get no bullshit.”

I zoned back in and realized Mom was chatting to him. “So, darling, how is your Ma?”

The briefest flicker of grief flashed across that wanton profile before it was banished with a chuckle. “Well, yesterday she turned all my best underwear into a piece of modern art. I couldn’t get annoyed with her, she was so proud of it. And she gets upset real easy.”

Mom covered her mouth and Doug touched her free hand. “Mostly, she’s real good these days, Mrs A. Happy. Always singing.”

Mom nodded and twisted a lock of that golden hair around her finger.

“Actually, I’m heading off again next week. Don’t suppose you girls’d look in on her while I’m gone? She’ll have care round the clock, of course, but it’s not the same, y’know…”

As he started his favorite rant about how hard it is to get nursing staff who pay attention to the little things, Mom and I took a moment to admire the finely sculpted work of art that was Doug, before we started talking over him. It’s okay, it was telepathy. He couldn’t hear us.

Lovely boy, takes such good care of his Ma. Remind me why you broke up with him?

I ignored her. If she was a normal mother, she’d know that Doug falls into the category of guys you shouldn’t sleep with. Don’t get me wrong, he’s real funny, and sweet, and he can do things in bed that make it pretty clear where the Special Forces got the “special” bit from. But I bet Janice Dean’s Ma would have told Jancie that guys who can’t tell you where they’ve been or what they do for a living are not gonna be the most reliable lovers. I bet Janice Dean never climbed out any potty windows. I took a moment to think about the reliable Mrs Dean, with her blue rinse, yellow roses and green-eyed envy of everyone else’s lives. I shrugged inwardly.

Thank Ran for mermaid mothers.

I zoned back into the head of mine.
Mom…about tonight. I need to…

I barely finished.
It’s okay. You do what you’ve got to do. Just stay safe, my love
.

I smiled at her.
I’ll be home for brownie baking in the morning. Promise
.

She frowned a little in response.
Should I ask?

No way.
No. I shouldn’t think so
.

She was on the job immediately, yawning delicately. Part kitten, part woman.

“Mercy me, I am beat.” She leaned over and planted a soft kiss on Doug’s cheek.

He looked momentarily dazzled before squawking out a hoarse “Ni’night.”

Then he started talking again, but I wasn’t zoned in. I was visualizing his van, and how I was going to get it. It’d be tricky. Last time, Doug got his Harley back kinda bent out of shape.

“Oh, baby,” he crooned. “You really gotta try the shrimp fry over at the Dirty Boar.”

I momentarily forgot that I was trying to be nice so he’d let me borrow his van.

“Sweet mother, Doug, don’t you remember about my allergy?”

I had to stop and breathe, because the thought of piscinavores makes my throat do these weird little gulps. I’ve had to invent the seafood allergy to cover my tracks. What annoys
me more than anything are the people who claim to be vegetarian, but say they eat fish. Leaving aside the sheer stupidity of the statement – you know, someone claiming to be a vegetarian while also referring to eating an animal – it just makes no sense. Being a piscinavore is like being a cannibal who says “I don’t eat people, only concert pianists and famous painters.” Me, I’m quite happy to eat some clueless old bovine, but
fish
. Man, fish are sentient beings.

“Go wash your hands. And rinse y’ freakin’ mouth. There’s Listerine on top. Go now.”

In Aegira, everyone’s vegetarian, but here on land I eat meat. It’s cool, I’ve looked inside the minds of cows and I can guarantee there’s nothing there. I even went to an abattoir once to check. Even as the poor things were lining up to go into the slaughterhouse, their minds showed up nothing but a picture of a blade of grass and vague feeling of an itch on the rump.

“Alright, alright,” Doug complained, making for the bathroom. “Although it’s not like I’m going to kiss ya, Sheriff.” He paused, then a dark look spread across that hot face. “Am I?”

Oh man, he looked good when he got that look in his eye. A hundred delicious memories competed for my attention, and they weren’t all of Doug naked. Not all of them.

I swallowed and pointed to the bathroom.

When he got back, I’d recovered enough to try again.

“Doug,” I began. “I might need your van. Later tonight. Look, it’s only for a few-”

“Oh no.” He was short. He sounded pretty definite. “No, no, no missy. Not after the Harley. I loved that bike.”

“Please, Doug,” I asked. “It’s important. I promise I’ll keep it safe.”

“This anything to do with that dead blonde?”

This freakin’ place and its freakin’ rumor mill. “No,” I lied smoothly.

“Right, so that’s a yes,” he said. Then paused. “Compromise?”

I was already mentally saying no. I never compromise.

“How ’bout I drive you wherever you need to go?”

It was my turn to be definite. “No way, baby. I gotta do something solo tonight.”

“Well, sorry then,” he said, and I could hear the ring of finality in his tone.

“Doug,” I wheedled. “Don’t make me steal it.”

“You steal it and I’ll tell your Mom about you and her assistant.”

Wow, I suddenly developed a whole new respect for his tactics. Dirty, clever. I liked it.

“Chip?” I was all innocence. “Poor boy’s only nineteen. That’s a terrible implication.”

He looked right into me. And I could see the tiniest scrap of hurt there. Which was so unfair. It had been eighteen months. And
he
dumped
me
. Kind of.

I made a decision.

“Okay Doug,” I said firmly. “You can drive. But you gotta stay in the car. I’m maybe gonna have to put a large object in the back and you are not to ask me about it.”

“Sure,” he agreed easily. “So where we taking the stiff once we swipe it?”

Chapter Three

Kool Mints and Larceny

I tiptoed out and shut the door gently behind me. Not actually sure why I was tiptoeing.

Something about the gravity of the moment, and what I was about to do.

Billy would be long gone from the morgue by now, but I wasn’t planning some kind of confrontation. I was doing a job and leaving. As quickly and, hopefully, painlessly as possible.

I’d changed into sneakers and jeans, and I was packing my Glock 17 in the back of my pants. I remembered my instructor back in the city saying that the good news was that the Glock is easy to shoot, and the bad news was that the Glock is easy to shoot. The short, light trigger pull is vulnerable to accidental discharge, so it demands an experienced hand and a cool head.

Luckily, I’ve got both in spades.

But I was still sending up some kind of prayer to the Goddess that I wouldn’t need to use it. Apart from anything else, Mom hates weapons as much as any mermaid and if she heard about some shooting stuff involving me, I’d be off brownie privileges.

And when you’ve only got three weeks to go, every last brownie counts.

I hustled over to the morgue in Mom’s ride, the route all too familiar. My own car was just too conspicuous, but I had to be careful. Mom would be pissed if I got a ticket in her beloved Oldsmobile, and I certainly didn’t want to attract any attention. But I wanted to get to Blondie before Larry did. As I was opening up on the back road, my cell chirruped at me. All my senses went into screaming panic. Who could it be? So late, and in the middle of all this.

My eyes flicked over to the green screen where it lay on the passenger seat. I squinted and concentrated hard at the number. Not Aldus. Not Ma.

Then it clicked and I snatched it up.

“Susie? Y’ok?”

Juddery sobs greeted me and a cold hand squeezed my rib cage. My hand went unconsciously to the scar on my arm, fingering its plasticy length. “Susie, Susie!” I could feel my panic rising as I tried to still the quiver in my voice.

“Raaaaania!” The wail cut through my senses.

“What is it, baby? What is it? Are you hurt?” My hand flew automatically to the Glock I’d stashed in the glove compartment while I drove. I was going to fucking kill him. I had no idea how he had found them but this time I was really going to kill him.

More sobs, and I had to visualize a stop sign like the yogi taught me so I could hold back the “what the hell is it?” that threatened to erupt from my throat.

Sweat and bile rose like a phoenix inside me. “Susie?”

“I – I’m sorry Rania,” the little voice spluttered. “I had another dream. Daddy was back. And the fire was back too. I w-was s-s-scared. I’m sorry!” At the effort of the sentence the little voice broke off again, sobbing wildly. Relief snaked through me, releasing my chest and stomach and letting me breathe again.

Bad dream, just a bad dream.

Bad dreams were bad, but she was okay. I pictured her red curls and consciously tried to slow my breathing. “Shhh Susie,” I started. “It’s okay baby. It’s okay to have bad dreams.”

A little hiccup, then, “You said I could call. You said… y-you said anytime…”

“Of course bella, of course, of course,” I soothed her. “That’s why I gave you my special number. Any time. We’re a team, remember?”

The little voice sniffed in agreement on the other end of the line.

“And you know what?”

“W-what?” She was still stammering but the sobs were starting to recede.

“I have bad dreams too.”

“You do?” She sounded amazed at the revelation.

“Uh-huh. Sure do.”

“But you’re… you’re so brave.”

Oh man, there it was again. I thought about Missy earlier on in the evening. I seemed to have done a great job convincing everyone how tough I was. Little did they know what an absolute chicken shit I was underneath it all, really.

Three weeks.

Man, three weeks…

“Nah,” I assured Susie. “You’re the brave one. Remember how good you did that night?”

There was silence on the other end and I imagined Susie’s chubby little face scrunched in concentration. “You said I did good,” she said slowly, like remembering lines for a play. “But I just did what you told me.”

“That’s true,” I said slowly. “But y’know what? I’ve seen grown-ups go crazy at times like that. Grown-ups who couldn’t follow even the simplest thing I told them to do. You? You were super-cool. You are definitely the bravest six-year-old I have ever, ever met.”

“Really?” I could hear the smile creeping into her voice. “Pinky promise?”

I laughed, the last remnants of tension floating from my shoulders. “Absolutely, baby. Double pinky promise.”

“Sooo…” Susie seemed to be weighing up the merits of asking something. “Rania?”

“Yep?”

“What do you do? When you have your bad dreams?”

Curl up in a ball and cry like a baby into my pillow so no-one can hear me.

I decided against honesty. “Is your Mommy there?”

“Yes,” Susie said uncertainly.

“Well, bella, what I do is I jump right out of bed and go and get in with my Ma. And she gets me a hot chocolate.” I knew I was on pretty safe ground here. Susie’s Ma was just the hot chocolate-making type.

Susie was quiet again. “But Rania?”

“Yep?”

“I don’t wanna scare my Ma. She… she looks at me sometimes, then holds me real tight, like she’s scared he’s gonna come back. Like she’s scared he’s gonna light another fire…”

My breath caught in my throat at the thought of this little girl, who’d been through so much, not wanting to upset her Ma. But she needed to tell her Ma what was going on for her.

I was pretty sure Dr Phil would call that a light bulb moment.

“Well, darl’n, you know what? All your Mommy wants is to help. She wants to help make you feel better. She’s gonna worry anyway. You might as well let her make you some hot chocolate. Doing that might make her feel better.” I avoided thinking about my own Mom, trying to get me to open up, trying to get me to tell her what was wrong. Too much Dr Phil.

“Mmm.” Susie seemed to agree with this advice.

“And bella?”

“Yes, Rania?”

“You know he’s never going to come near you again, right?” I only met Susie for the first time that night, a year ago, but it mattered. It mattered to me that she felt safe. We’d been through it together, that awful thing. We’d spoken many times since I’d given her my cell number. But I hadn’t heard from her for a while. I’d thought she was getting better.

Susie sighed sweetly on the other end of the line, and I was sure I could hear a little baby-sized yawn as well. “Yeah, I know, Rania. I know you’re gonna keep us safe.”

Before I realized it, I’d arrived at the morgue, with shaky legs and my head spinning, but trying to focus on what I needed to do. Blondie. Larry. The autopsy.

I had my lock-pick set strapped to my abdomen, just in case Billy had locked the cold storage. I could feel the rough calico against my overheated skin. But I was pretty sure I wasn’t gonna need that either. Billy’s as sloppy as he is irritating.

I gave the back door a little push, and sure enough, I didn’t even need the key Larry gave me. It slid open with a tiny pop and the gentlest of creaks. I stopped for a moment. Something felt slightly out of place, a vague stirring in the symmetry of sound that was the Dirtwater night.

I couldn’t place it. I pushed through the open-plan front area, back towards the office, the cold room and the labs. It was all exactly where it should have been, but I couldn’t shake the clammy hand of doubt that was caressing my neck with its sticky, uncertain fingers.

It stayed with me as I set to work.

Somewhere a clock was ticking, marking out the seconds while I prevaricated.

Lucky I’m not the type to spook easily because something about its insistent rhythm and the blackness of the night was playing havoc with my danger radar. I stopped, in Lantara like my mother had taught me. Tune out all sound, listen for the note, focus on what you can hear.