Page 9 of White Wolf

He was smiling in that lazy way that always made her stomach flip, one arm flung out along the back of the seat. The position pulled his jacket wide so his gun and badge were visible at his hip. “I know,” he said. And then he sobered. “Seriously, though. You’re still not sleeping?”

She shrugged and looked out through the window. Never look a detective in the eye if you were trying to avoid talking about something.

“Nightmares still?”

“It’s stupid.”

“You wanna tell me about them?”

Janet saved her from answering, arriving with their coffee. “You two want the usual?” She didn’t even have her pad out.

“Yeah,” Lanny answered, collecting and handing over their menus. When Janet was gone, he said, “The thing is, though, you don’t lose sleep about stuff. So whatever this is, it’s really bothering you.”

She bit her lip and stared at her reflection in the window, seeing the deep shadows under her eyes. Lanny had those shadows too.

“You gonna tell me what’s botheringyou?” she asked. When she darted a glance, he’d pulled his arm back down, shoulders lifted at a defensive angle.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. Your family okay?”

“They’re fine.” His jaw clenched, muscle jumping in his cheek.

“Lanny–”

“Leave it, Trina.” Low, rough, angry. So unlike him.

She met his stare, more than a little hurt by his refusal to talk to her.

Then again, she wasn’t sharing with him.

Of course, his problems probably didn’t have anything to do with nightmares and strange visions of blue-eyed strangers.

“So Chad Edwards,” she said, voice tight.

“We won’t know shit ‘til the autopsy.”

Janet arrived with a plate held in each hand. She looked between the two of them. “Everything alright?”

“Fine,” they said in unison.

~*~

Trina was grateful they kept the morgue so cold, because shivering was the only thing keeping her awake at this point. Her eyes felt full of sand and she was reaching the point of fatigue where she was loopy, the world around her too-fast and distorted. She’d downed eight ounces of coffee a half hour ago, but her body was so acclimated to caffeine these days it did little good.

She blinked furiously and tried not to pass out across the body. She contented herself with the fact that Lanny didn’t look any better.

Things had been strained since breakfast, and the more her tiredness dragged at her, the less patience she had for his bad mood. Why couldn’t he just talk to her, damn it?

“Alright,” Dr. Harvey said from the head of the table, one gloved hand braced on its edge. Somehow, she looked wide awake, though she’d been up as long as the two of them. “I haven’t done the full autopsy yet, but based on the preliminary exam, cause of death was a complete cervical spinal cord injury.”

“A broken neck?” Trina asked, surprise bleeding through her exhaustion.

“Right between the C3 and C4,” Harvey said with a nod. “He was dead before he hit the ground.”

“Shit,” Lanny said. “Isn’t that right where he…” He gestured to his own throat.

Harvey nodded, lips pursed. She moved around the table and reached to the side of the vic’s throat, used two fingers to stretch out what had, in death, become a truly ugly wound. She’d cleaned the area, leaving two clear dark puncture wounds and a nasty mess of bruising.

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