Page 70 of Need Him Like Oxygen

“Suppose you don’t have any of those giant plastic garage totes,” I said, figuring this guy was too big to stuff in any luggage.

“No. And it’s too late to—“

“There’s one in the basement,” Joel cut in, making both of us turn in his direction. He shrugged. “Been down there forever. I can get it.”

“You’re already too involved in this,” she said. “Tell me where it is.”

“I’ll get it,” Joel said, hopping up. “I go down there all the time. It wouldn’t look weird. You don’t.”

“Joel, I can’t ask—“

“You’re not,” he cut her off, getting up and making his way to the door. He was gone before she could say anything else.

“Can you trust him?” I asked.

“I… I think so,” she said, taking a deep breath. “He needs the money,” she added. “Hear that?” she asked, holding a finger up.

I listened for a minute, then heard the raised voices of a man and a woman from a distance.

“Yeah…”

“That’s his parents. He wants to get away. Money is the only way to do that.”

“He a street kid?”

“No. He mostly just sits in the hall listening to music.”

He said nothing else, just stood there listening to our own breathing and Joel’s parents’ unending arguing, just waiting to see if the kid returned, or if he was out selling us out to the cops.

But, not ten minutes later, we heard the dragging sound out in the hallway before the door flew open, and there was the kid. Pulling a black garage tote with a yellow lid, the whole thing covered in cobwebs.

“Is it big enough?” he asked, kicking the door closed, then eyeing the body.

“It’ll do,” I said, nodding. “Thanks. You should really go now,” I added. “You’re implicated enough.”

“I got nowhere else to be,” he said. “I can help.”

I wouldn’t lie. A tub full of a dead body was heavy as fuck. And as strong as Cinna was, the man outweighed her. She’d be helpful carrying out the tub, but I could use some extra hands.

My gaze slid to Cinna.

“It’s your choice, love.”

“Just this once. And just to get the tub in a car. Then you go back up into the hall, and pretend nothing ever happened, okay?”

“Yeah, alright,” he said. I heard a hint of something in his voice that Cinna must have missed, but there was too much to do now to worry about small shit like that.

“Help me drag him up,” Cinna said to me, pointing to the body.

“What for?”

“I want to get a picture. But if he’s on the ground, he’ll look dead.”

Couldn’t argue with that logic.

So I helped her drag him up, sitting him against the fridge, wincing at the blood that would need to be cleaned up as Cinna reached out, pulling his eyes open, then grabbing for her phone and snapping a few pictures.

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “Let’s get to work.”

---