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I flicked on the red light and slowly began the process of developing the film. I could have used a digital camera like pretty much everyone else, but there was something about doing it all myself that appealed to me. Besides, the prints came out so much better that way.
As I worked, my mind began to roam over the last few hours. I had been distracted part of the time as we’d combed through the apartment building, distracted by the way she had looked at me. It was part scorn and part fascination, and I couldn’t help but return the feeling. There was something about her full lips, about her body and the way she carried herself that drew me to her.
It was true that Suarez had embarrassed me in front of her. I didn’t want Laney to think that I was just some pathetic loser doing charity cases for every single sob story that came to my door. Mrs. Suarez had paid, and although it wasn’t really my full rate, it was still enough.
And I wasn’t exactly in the position to turn away cash.
Finally, I finished my work and tacked up the developed film to dry. I could tell that the pictures were definitely going to pay off, though I couldn’t get full-sized prints until later.
I opened the door and shut it quickly again, walking back out into the main room. I stopped short as I saw Laney rooting through my filing cabinet.
Fear gripped my chest. I quickly crossed the room and slammed the cabinet shut, startling her.
“Shit, Easton. What the hell?” she said. “You scared me.”
I stared at her. “I didn’t tell you to touch that.”
“The phones aren’t ringing,” she said. “I thought I’d organize your files, help you out.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“Okay. I was just trying to be useful.”
“Let’s call it a day.”
She stared back at me defiantly. “Fine. Whatever you say.”
“Have a good night, sis,” I said.
She walked over to the door. “Same time tomorrow?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
She gave me one last look, a look that I couldn’t read, and then opened the door and was gone.
She was pissed, but I didn’t care. I let out a breath and tore opened the drawer again, rooting through it. The file wasn’t in there, thankfully. She hadn’t seen it.
I opened the other drawer and found it, the file on Lester Seeds, and pulled it out. I dropped it on the desk and sat down in my chair, staring at it.
Memories came swirling back to me in fragments. Hours spent pouring over evidence. The girl, her fingers cut off, her body lifeless. Lester laughing. The phone call.
Mitch and the wound across his throat.
I tossed the file back into another drawer and walked into the back room. I poured myself a whisky and dropped down onto the couch, turning the television on loud. I wanted it to drown out the memories as I drank.
One last memory came to me: Lester’s voice saying, Come now, Easton, aren’t you some kind of professional?
I slugged back my whisky and poured another.
It felt like the buzzing was drilling through my skull directly into my brain.
I rolled over on the couch. My mouth tasted like whisky. The TV was still on.
And the doorbell was ringing like crazy.
I climbed off the couch, steading myself for a minute as my hangover washed over me. I’d drunk too much the night before, as usual. Ever since I’d come back to Mishawaka, the dreams had been awful, gut-wrenching and destructive nightmares, and the only way to outrun the memories was by drowning them in alcohol.
I stood up slowly, glancing at the clock. It was a little bit past ten in the morning.
I’m going to kill that girl, I thought as I pulled on a pair of pants, not bothering with the shirt. I stumbled into the main room and pulled open the door.
Laney stood there, smiling at me sweetly.
“Morning, Easton,” she said. “You look like shit.”
“Go away,” I grunted, and tried to close the door.
Laney shoved her foot out, catching it before it shut, and pushed it open. She hustled past me, and I was too hungover to stop her.
She was carrying a drink tray with two large coffees on it and had a brown paper bag in the other hand.
“I figured you’d be like this,” she said.
“Why?” I grunted at her.
“Based on yesterday.” She paused and stared at me for a second as I walked closer to her. I could tell there was something going on in that cute little brain of hers, but I couldn’t tell what. I was way too hungover to read her.
She quickly gathered herself. “Anyway, bagels and coffee.” She gestured at the bag.
I grabbed my cup. “Thanks.”
“Get dressed.” She sat down at the desk, dropping her bag on the floor. She slipped a laptop from it and opened it up on the desk. “Do you have Wi-Fi?”
