Page 13 of Just Friends

He left Morrison with the child and returned to investigate the bodies. The male slumped behind the wheel, and the female was drooping over in the passenger seat. Both of them had been there for a while; the elastic still bound around the woman’s arm. It wasn’t long until he turned up an empty syringe in the center console along with a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. The idiots shot up on the roadside with their baby in the car. They’d either overdosed or got the bad luck of a tainted substance, or both, and he wanted to punch them. But instead, he opted to bag and label the evidence. The man had neither a wallet or ID anywhere on his person. The purse in front of the woman contained a Driver’s License and multiple prescription bottles of opioids under different patient names. His brother had pulled shit like that before he died. And like Logan, these two thought it couldn’t happen to them. Weasel pushed the thought aside to finish processing the scene for the coroner.

When Bonnie Davis from Social Services arrived, the baby sat in the rear seat of his SUV eating crackers and drinking Morrison’s sports drink. “Male child, approximately two years old,” Weasel told Bonnie. They watched the juvenile, whose only interest was in shoveling the food into his mouth and rubbing the soggy remnants from his hands onto the cloth backseat. “Documentation of the conditions we found him are in the file. We’re working on establishing ID’s of the adults.”

“We’ll take him from here,” Bonnie replied, shaking her head. She looked as tired and frustrated as he felt. He nodded and opened the door. She leaned over and spoke in a gentle voice to the baby.

Dotson was back at his side. “Detective Anderson?” He shifted his attention to the officer. “Um, a reporter from the White Oak Gazette wants a report.”

Weasel shook his head. “Tell them the chief will give a statement later.”

Dotson stared at him.

“I don’t talk to them,” he emphasized. He grabbed the phone from his pocket and checked the time—it was five p.m. Damn it. The Ellis Diner was closed, and she hadn’t texted him about missing lunch.

Three hours afterward when he’d somewhat wrapped up on paperwork, he called it a night. Thoughts of Rebecca stayed with him all day, and how she’d burned herself. He couldn’t figure out how that happened, and then there was the gun. And the reason she had it. The brief fear in her face had almost been his undoing. He preferred to beat the hell out of Kyle and call it a day. He didn’t need the specifics. Although tempting, he instead drove to her apartment complex. He needed to see her right now; making her laugh and seeing her smile would turn around this shithole of a day.

???

After the long day Rebecca had, she found respite in the quiet comfort of home. It wasn’t the first time she’d suffered a burn while cooking, but it certainly was the worst. Thankfully, Weasel had been there and had kept his head, because she went blank when the pain hit. Not good. Now in a tank top, to avoid touching her still bandaged injury, and pajama pants, she waited on the microwave popcorn to finish. The line between half a sack of unpopped kernels and scorched was razor wire thin. With perfect timing, she poured the bag into a big plastic dish she’d bought for the occasion. Sure, the tag read salad bowl, but what was the fun in that? The plan was to sit on her butt, eat her snack, and not think for a while, especially about the lean, sexy as sin, police detective. With her movie queued up in the DVD player, she placed her container of popcorn and her coke on the coffee table when a knock came.

At the door stood the tall, blond testosterone factory she’d been trying to forget. She sighed sliding the chain off and opening it. “What?” She shouldn’t be so aggravated by the guy who saved her from a lunatic clown and helped her when her chest felt like it was on fire, but she was. “I was just about to watch…”

He held up a battered shipping carton. “This was at your door.”

“Oh my,” she said, taking the package from Weasel and inspecting it. It was bent to pieces, smashed on the side, creating a gaping crack. “Did they kick it to my apartment from the truck?”

When she turned from him, she noticed that through the hole you could see inside, and there was the vibrator she’d ordered on a dare from Hannah. Her stomach dropped. Had Weasel seen what was inside? She turning around, needing to get the box hidden and fast.

“You know, I don’t require batteries, right?”

Heat radiated from her face and matched that coming off the burns on her chest. She closed her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Yeah, but I don’t have to listen to this talk.” She held her head up and rushed into the bedroom as fast as she could. There was nowhere to hide in her tiny apartment. The walk-in closet was her best bet.

From the other room, he called. “You need any help with that? If I hear any buzzing back there, I want in. It doesn’t bother me. We can play with it together.”

“Shut up,” she yelled from the closet and shoved the box underneath a pile of clothes.

She returned to the living area to find him at home slouched back on her couch with the bowl of popcorn in his lap. “Just one ground rule,” he said munching on her popcorn. “Nothing goes up my ass.”

“Oh my god,” she grabbed her bowl of popcorn away from him. “No more.” She set the bowl down on the coffee table and glared at him.

He eyed the bowl, disappointed, then his gaze shifted up along her body and locked on hers. “How is that better than a man?”

“Well, for one, I don’t have to answer questions. And two, no shaving required.” She put her hands on her hips.

A wicked smirk crossed his mouth. “No need to shave for me, either. I don’t mind it furry.”

She gasped and grabbed the decorative pillow from the couch and smacked him on the head with it; laughing he lifted an arm in defense. She hit him several times until her burns hurt, then she threw it at his skull. Picking up her bowl of popcorn off the table she plopped hard on the other end of the sofa.

Weasel retrieved the throw cushion from the floor and squashed it beside him on the couch. He leaned over and snatched a handful of her popcorn.

“So,” she said, “don’t mind it furry, huh? I suppose you’ll take it any way you can get it.”

He choked on the popcorn and coughed for a minute, and when he dislodged the kernel, he laughed until he coughed again. “Good one,” he responded with a smile shaking his head. “But, not even close.”

She couldn’t help but laugh and shot him a look of healthy skepticism.

“Seriously, you wouldn’t believe what people will offer to avoid arrest. So, no, definitely not any way I can get it.”

She wrinkled her nose. “No... Really? Even men?”

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