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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After what seemed like an uncomfortably long car ride, they arrived at where Zeke guessed they would. From his job, he'd gotten to know Tampa pretty well. And this route he'd driven enough times.
"So, this is it?" he had to ask.
Raffi wasn't looking him in the eye. "For now. Any more questions?"
She had removed a small laptop from the glove compartment, fingers flying over the keys in soft clicks.
Zeke shuffled through the mental note cards, lingering on one that really bothered him.
"Why didn't you tell me?" His tone was plaintive, and he hated that.
Raffi's gaze shifted from the computer screen to Zeke. She continued typing, occasionally eyeing him. Finally, she seemed to come to a stopping point, closing the laptop, hands folded over the top.
"Like I told you, I've been at this a long time. I couldn't risk telling anyone, even my cousin." A sardonic smile twisted her mouth. "Plus, you're kinda all over the place. You would've wrecked my cover."
"Wow," Zeke said, unable to deny the truth of her words, stinging though they were.
Maybe because she felt bad, or because yes, he was all over the place, she offered one more piece of information:
"This is off the record, but the job's not finished yet. However," she tapped the laptop, "I'm gonna info dump everything I have so far that implicates Campbell."
Zeke took a deep breath. Then another. And another.
He was going to be cleared. He hadn't done anything.
Please no!
Momentarily, he squeezed his eyes shut, thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose. The words echoed in his head, a reminder that he hadn't puzzled out everything. But the piece of a memory meant nothing, not if he was innocent. He hadn't hurt anyone.
Raffi lightly touched his arm. "It'll be okay, cousin. Your shit'll get sorted."
He nodded. If she hadn't shared all her secrets, and he knew she hadn't, he wasn't about to reveal any more of his.
"Shit. Stay the fuck in the car."
The shift in attitude confused him, until he noticed the glare of red tail lights at the back of the car. The street was blocked in the rear-view mirror, obstructed by the open trunk.
"Goddamn Campbell," Raffi grated out, throwing her car door open.
Never one to do the right thing, Zeke hopped out of the car. He was slightly worried Campbell would pop out of nowhere, but was also convinced she was long gone.
Raffi got to the trunk first, peering inside. From the curses and kicking of the tires, Zeke figured it was empty.
A spotting of trees lined the street, too thin for anyone to hide behind. Brief shadows danced from the alleyways separating the apartment buildings. The area was quiet.
As Zeke approached the truck, he half expected a hand to shoot out from underneath the car, but no such horror trope occurred.
Once he rounded the corner of the car, he was met with a crumpled blanket and frayed rope on the trunk floor, but no Campbell.
Raffi was barking into a phone, balancing it between her cheek and shoulder, gun in one hand, and a square device in the other. When she saw Zeke, she glared at him.
"Later," she spoke into the phone, straightening so that it dropped it into the grass.
Her sharp eyes scanned their surroundings. She seemed to give two shits about the
Seeing as she was busy, Zeke ran to retrieve her phone. He extended his arm in offer. Raffi just shook her head, which he interpreted as permission to search her device. Not that she need know that.
"Told you to stay put," she said flatly, as though she really didn't care one way or another.
She immediately began stalking around the car, gun pointed slightly downward but ready to shoot.
Then she crouched to check under the car, sweeping her weapon from side to side.
"Always making my job harder," she grumbled.
It was unclear if she meant Zeke or Campbell.
A slight ping pulsed from the device in her hand. Raffi followed the mysterious source, moving methodically in a line toward the trees. Zeke hung back by the car. He turned her phone over and over in his hands. Of course he had tried to peek at her contacts and texts. Damn thing had a fingerprint lock on it.
His headache had abated, but his legs barely held him up. He opened the passenger door and sat down. From the safety of the car, he watched his cousin curse at the tech she carried. Checking over the area took her a long time.
Eventually, Raffi wandered back to the trunk, rifling through what remained. Curious, Zeke got off his lazy ass and met her at the back of the car. She held up a slim black rectangle covered in blood, cursing some more. He recognized the tech from spy movies, but had never seen one in real life.
"You had Campbell chipped?" Zeke asked, fascinated.
"Whole lotta good that did." Raffi shook her head, pocketing the chip. Before he could ask where the chip had been placed and how, Raffi revealed a brick phone from her jacket. "Let's switch." He momentarily froze, thinking it was trans-speak he didn't understand. "My phone," she drawled.
He fumbled to hand it over, accepting the lesser phone in exchange.
"I gotta go," Raffi said. She slid into the driver's seat, ready to leave.
"What's this for?" He studied what amounted to a burner phone.
She smiled, turning the key in the ignition. "In case I need you."
He shrugged. "Sure." Something occurred to him. "What about Campbell?"
"I found her once, I'll find her again," Raffi said simply. She nodded at the building behind him. "Enjoy being home, man. See ya."
She drove off.
Zeke half-walked, half stumbled to his apartment. When he opened the door, a pungent odor permeated the air, wafting from the kitchen. Probably the trashcan, dirty dishes, or a combo.
He had always lived like a bachelor, but even still, the place was a wreck. The cops who had searched the place over had not been kind. Papers littered the ground, with books and files strewn on every surface.
Though he was tired, he forced himself to check every corner, and every dark closet. He knew he would be unable to sleep until he confirmed he was alone.
Twenty minutes later, he happily collapsed into his own bed. The sheets were slightly musty, but no matter.
It was the first time in two weeks that he'd been home, and free.
