He laughs. “You youngsters aren’t a competition to me. You can’t find the clit with a map.” He snorts.
“Whatever you say, old man.” I flip him off with a smile.
“All right, kiddo. See you next shift.” He gathers his stuff, pats Ghost by the door, and leaves the room.
I get my bag and walk out too, Ghost hot on my heels. No matter how long it’s been since he was a K9 dog, his training is always present. Whenever people are around, even the ones he knows, he’s always close by, ready to protect at a moment’s notice.
I’m planning to go get a bite somewhere, but the moment my ass hits the seat of my truck, my dwindling energy leaves me hunched over the wheel. Fuck, I’m only thirty-three, but it feels like I’ll need crutches soon. I decide against going out for food, hoping I can find anything at home. Literally anything. Even cereal will do.
When I pull into my driveway, my eyes dart to my neighbor’s house. Are there any other cars parked? I’ve never seen any. Maybe she picks him up. Who knows. Who cares. Certainly not me. This Frank dude is like a ghost. My own Ghost gives me a side-eye, and I ask him, “What?”
He turns to look at the house again.
We’re walking to the back door when I hear a commotion from her backyard, followed by a loudthudand a string of words I assume are supposed to be curses but only makes me laugh. “You piece of poo, smell like poo too. Why did you do that, you stinky hairy skunk? Why did you make me turn intothat?”
I’m curious about what the ever-loving hell is happening, so I motion to Ghost to be quiet and silently move toward the fence between our yards. It’s dark outside, but the lights from the front of our houses offer some remedy for weak human eyes.
I peek over the fence in the direction of the expletives and nearly fall on my ass.
My neighbor is dragging something on the ground, covered in a…rug? It’s more like something rolled into the rug, poking out one side. I swallow nervously, not liking where my thoughts are going. The rug is long. It can hide a lot, like a human body. And judging by the amount of energy she’s putting into her effort, the thing inside the rug is heavy.
I swallow again, not quite believing my own eyes. Ghost must have sensed my mood because he whines quietly, and I shush him immediately, hoping she hasn’t heard him. I glance toward her. She’s so engorged in her activity, she hasn’t heard anything and continues dragging the body—yes, I’m almost 99 percent positive it’s a body—through her yard toward the woods behind it.
Ghost whines again, and I put my hand around his muzzle, shushing him again. He looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind, but he quiets. And then all I hear is silence, utter silence besides an owlhootingsomewhere. I crouch so she can’t see me behind the fence, but I can still see her through the rails. I can’t make out her face this far away in the dark, but I can see she dropped the dead body and has turned toward me. I can imagine her narrowing her big blue eyes in my direction, trying to figure out who is witnessing her crime.
After a few moments, when she’s satisfied there is no one around, she returns to her gig.
She’s mumbling something, but I can’t hear her clearly, so I move along the fence carefully until I’m closer to her. When she’s next to the back gate, she drops the body to open it. I crouch closer, leaning in… and then Ghost sneezes. She freezes with her hand on the flimsy lock.Some spy dog you are, I try to tell him telepathically as I glare at his guilty face.
“Who’s there?” Her voice is high and free of guilt.
I stand from my hiding place, and her eyes go round.
“Are you spying on me?” Her voice is shrill and accusatory.
“What’s in the rug?” I counter, nodding at the thing on the ground behind her.
“None of your business.” She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up. Even in her huge potato sack, I can see the size of them. I haven’t been able to unsee what I saw when she was wet in her kitchen. I don’t think she even knows what she’s doing, but she’s been gifted in that department, all right, and my eyes dip lower. Just for a second, but she notices it. “Pervert!” she exclaims and drops her arms.
“Pervert? You’re calling me a pervert when you have a fuckin’ body in your rug?” I motion behind her.
She quickly glances back before returning to me, her eyes narrowed even more. She ignored my last statement. “I’ll ask again. Were you spying on me?”
“What if I were?” I fold my hands over my own chest, mimicking her.
“Then I stand my ground. You’re a pervert!” Her cute little nostrils flare, and for a moment, I forget I’m dealing with a criminal.
“What’s in the rug, Alicia?” Ghost dances next to me, sensing the uneasiness in the air. “Is it a body?”
“What if it was?” she asks, as if I’m the one at fault.
“Are you out of your mind?” I yell at her, and she flinches. Good, she should. I swallow. “Is it Frank?” I ask calmer. I didn’t miss how after that loud bang in her kitchen, she winced and shut the door in my face. Maybe he’s a violent son of a bitch, and she did something to protect herself?
“What?” Her eyes round. “No, it’s notFrank.” She snorts and rolls her eyes.
“What’s in the rug, Alicia?” My tone is firm. I’m not liking how this conversation seems funny to her. “Did you kill someone?”
The atmosphere shifts, turning darker. “What if I told you that I killed someone who’s been haunting me in my nightmares for years?” Her face is solemn, and her voice lacks cadence.
