He slams the cooler door and spins around to face us. His shoulders are rigid, his jaw tight. “Sorry, I just... stayed late. Got held up. Late case. You know.”
He’s babbling, his gaze stuck on the floor.What the hell is he really doing?I catch Dee’s eye. “One problem at a time,” I say, and we slide our gurney through the door. “We’ve got another body to check in.”
“Sure,” Ezra says. It’s like he’s frozen and he won’t—or can’t—make any attempt to help.
I scan the cadaver cooler bank to find a door with no patient label. There’s an empty one to the right of Ezra and I swing the door open and motion Dee to bring the other gurney closer.
Usually it’s pretty simple to transfer the body from the gurney to the drawer and close things up. This time, it’s a little more complicated since we’re working around Ezra, who’s staring off into space. We manage, though, and by the time we get the new guest tucked away in their frigid home, Ezra has at least managed to relax his arms. I wouldn’t really expect him to smile—he’s not that kind of guy—but at least he doesn’t look so terrified.
I hand Dee the clipboard to log in the new guest’s information while I go back to Ezra’s side.
“Wanna tell me what’s going on?”
He meets my gaze, his eyes so dark I could get lost in them. “No.” His voice is rough, like he’s been screaming. “You’ll think I’m disturbed.”
I can tell you’re disturbed, dude. This whole fucking scene is disturbing. Keeping my snark to myself, I put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go. I gotta stop by the ER, and, uh, maybe you should come with me.”
He’s trembling, his skin as cold as the bodies in the cooler. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
Reluctant to argue with him, I check to see if Dee is done with the paperwork. She’s standing at the door, having apparently decided she’d had her fill of drama.
I don’t let go of Ezra. “Come with me to take Dee to the main floor, at least.”
“I’m good. Y’all can take off.”
Y’all?That touch of a Southern accent was new. “You sure?”
“Yeah, now git. I gotta finish my charting. I swear I’m fine.”
Given his pale, sunken cheekbones and the shadows behind his eyes, I in no way believe him. Short of physically picking him up and carrying him out, leaving him is my only choice. “All right, man. I’ll see you later.”
“Sure.” It’s little more than a whisper. Against my better judgment, I go.
Ezra has a secret, and I don’t like it. I briefly consider adding something to my shift report—I’m supposed to note anything unusual—but,Ezra found in morgue after hours, pale and shakyseems too vague to be necessary. Like, it’s almost eleven o’clock at night. Who wouldn’t act a little weird after spending the day in the morgue. Besides, I’m more worried about him than anything else.
Shit. It would have been so much easier to go home at the regular time, have a beer, and jack off to someone in my spank bank.
Or, you know, the memory of one of Ezra’s infrequent smiles.
Chapter Three
Ezra
I’m used to taking on someone’s sins.
But I’mnotused to diving into their memories.
I was halfway through a busy Friday shift when a pair of nurses brought us a body. Our morning had been punctuated by overhead code calls to the ICU, so me and Geneva aren’t overly surprised to meet our new resident, a sixty-some-year-old man who’d been the victim of a hit-and-run over on 14thAvenue.
His need surrounded him like a cloud, a kick in the ass that shifted my thinking fromhow soon can I get out of heretohow soon can I get Geneva out of here so I can eat some sin?
And how did I miss such a big red flag? I pick the corpses, not the other way around. I should have been freaking out. Instead, I snuck a cracker onto his chest. Doesn’t matter whether it’s a cracker or scone or goddamn Girl Scout cookie. I just need something baked, that’ll absorb the sins so I can eat them. At least that’s what Dad always said.
Dad. He didn’t actually tell me much more than that. He taught me some prayers, he told me to avoid going too long without doing it, and he had me swear an oath never to give the act a name until I pass it on to the next generation.
Which, fuck that noise. I’m a gay man. These fucked-up genes end with me.
But he never, ever, ever said anything about a corpse whispering in my ear, demanding that I eat its sins.
