Zeke, a reporter with schizo-affective paranoia, gets caught up in a vamp-motivated murder.
Zeke's best work is drafted during "medicinal vacations," where he uses his condition to aid his writing process, short term memory be damned. However, the l...
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It was either the sergeant or captain.
One of the them was behind the conspiracy of Carter's death, moving down the chain to Officer Campbell. Lucky for Zeke, Raffi had information on both.
Sergeant Mansano had been with the department for fifteen years, and his record was spotless. That alone cast him under suspicion.
Captain Cantillo was a transfer from Colorado. The vamp population was scarcer up there, and her ambivalence for vamps was well-known. It was interesting, but not damning.
Zeke tapped the computer screen. "Could be either of 'em."
"Well, yeah, but why do you say that?" Raffi reclined in her spiffy black chair.
"Mansano is too clean." No one was that innocent, as Zeke had learned from his time observing and writing about the misdeeds of others. "And Cantillo proposed a weird-ass anti-vamp initiative when she first transferred, something about tattooing all their foreheads."
Raffi released a short whistle.
"Yup," Zeke said. "It was shot down, but still pretty Nazi-ish. She saw nothing wrong with it."
"Sounds like you're leaning more on Cantillo."
Zeke ran a tired hand over his tired face. "I'm leaning on nothing. This is all for nothing, because I know I fucking did it. What difference does it make if Cantillo or Mansano told Campbell to move a car? One of them was sleeping with Campbell and didn't want it revealed. That's all I've got, and it's shit-all."
He buried his face in his hands. Things were easier there, and he'd rather not face the ugly, murdering truth. Upon further reflection, he placed his hands in his lap, balled into fists.
Are they what killed her?
He couldn't remember, but he also didn't want to know.
He felt Raffi's eyes on him, and he met her gaze. She didn't look judgey, as he feared, but curious.
"You're right. We don't have a lot to go on, which is why I have another date tonight."
The "we" threw Zeke off, as did the revelation.
"You can't go alone," he said.
She chuckled. "That's kind of the nature of dates. Two people, alone. Meaning, me and Campbell."
He had wanted to ask something days back, but it had slipped his mind. Now it was at the forefront of his thoughts, and he had to know:
"Why are you helping me?"
Raffi placed a hand on his shoulder. "Growing up, you were the one cousin who didn't treat me like shit. I'm just repaying the favor."
If the comment had been meant to buoy him, it didn't work. Zeke had always loved himself, perhaps too much.
Goddamn it, woman, shut your hole!
You never believed in me.
Witnessing his father's hatred had taught him what not to do. Now, that assurance was gone, replaced with an abyss of self-loathing.
"Thanks," he grunted.
What he did know was that Raffi wasn't going solo on her date. He needed to get out, do something.
The walls of the back room were starting to close in, and Zeke feared tipping over into the abyss, and losing himself forever.
