Read Dead on the Delta for Free Online

and … kidlike. “Probably not a good idea.”
    She sighs and pulls her hand back in. “Yeah. Probably not.”
    “But I’ll see you, okay? You come see me and Marcy for coffee on Saturday?”
    Silence and another sigh, then finally, “Maybe.”
    “I’ll buy you a brownie.”
    “Okay … maybe.”
    Wow. A “maybe” on a brownie. It’s all the confirmation I need. She knows about Grace.
Shit.
At least I was sixteen before someone I loved died on me. I feel bad for the kid, but what can I do? What can anyone do?
    I mumble my goodbyes and Deedee mumbles something back and my nasty cat and I head toward town. A quick glance at my watch reveals just enough time to zip into the Quik Mart for cat food and a little something. My rum and Coke wore off between my sample taking and near-drowning, and sobriety isn’t any more appealing than it was earlier in the day.
    I have a feeling it won’t be one of my favorite states of being until Cane and Dom catch the man who killed Grace. Until then, I’m prescribing myself a late-afternoon buzz followed by an evening of more intense therapy.
    After Jin-Sang rips me a new asshole, there’s no doubt I’ll need something to ease the pain.

Four
     
    T he trip to Baton Rouge seems endless.
    An hour in an armored vehicle with no windows and iron sides too thick to allow a cell signal is rarely fun, but today it feels like the wheels will never stop rolling. It makes me long for the early days of the mutations, before a few blood-hungry fairies smashed their way through the supposedly impenetrable glass windows of the shuttles and ruined the view for everyone.
    Admittedly, there isn’t much to see on the road from Donaldsonville to Baton Rouge aside from the toothy ruins of petrochemical plants, miles of abandoned strip malls, posh residential ghost towns, a theme park, and a trio of giant crosses angry citizens pulled to the ground after the existence of killer fairies was confirmed.
    All in all, it makes for depressing scenery, but at least there would be
something
to look at. Something to keep my mind from flipping through the Beauchampmurder investigation, worrying the pages, doodling notes in the margins of mental pictures of a dead girl.
    Why did someone kill Grace? Was it just some sick fuck who got off on brutalizing children? A kidnapping gone wrong? Or something else entirely?
    I slouch lower in my seat, hiding from the driver’s mirror as I tip my can back for a drink and try to focus on other things. Like what I’m going to tell Jin-Sang when I arrive at the FCC office in Spanish Town. There has to be some way to spin the discovery of the Breeze house, to make it seem like I wasn’t—
    “You gonna share?” The vaguely familiar woman across the aisle casts a pointed look at my brown-bag-wrapped can.
    I’d gone with a twenty-four-ounce import—higher alcohol content, superior taste—since I’d lost my storage for a six-pack. Gimpy wasn’t keen on letting me actually touch my cooler. He was even less keen on being shoved into one of the animal compartments under the shuttle for the trip, but I was afraid animal control would snag him if I left him roaming the square without a collar and tags. Still, I’m probably going to lose an eye when it comes time to pull him out.
    The thought makes me take another swig.
    “You better have brought enough for everyone, or I’m going to have to tell the driver you’re breaking the rules,” my new friend threatens, holding out a thin, bony hand.
    “What is this, third grade?”
    “Don’t mess with me, girl,” she warns. The smell of old cigarettes drifts from her fingers, making my nose wrinkle. Why do some people’s bad habits have to stink so much more than mine?
    “Aren’t you on your way to work?” I hug my can tighter. Her Happy Helper maid uniform looks clean and her frizzy hair is tucked up beneath a white bandana.
    She smiles. “That’s why I need a drink.”
    “I feel your pain, but this is my only can.