April 25,
2006
“Holy shit Martin, granny’s
dead!” Lyle took a step back from the passenger side door of the 1997 Toyota Camry
with out of state plates. He caught just the edge of the pavement with the toe
of his boot, and stumbled backwards as the rubber sole lost its grip on the
asphalt and left him standing waving his arms to regain his balance. “She’s
cold,” he added as he unconsciously slipped his hand down towards his holster.
Martin looked across the driver and over to the front passenger seat to the
grey haired woman.
“What?” Martin wasn’t sure
he’d heard exactly what his partner had said, but in the five years they had
been working together, he’d never seen Lyle’s face so pale. “She’s dead?” he
asked Martin, and then turned slightly to look at the driver. “Miss Tanaka,”
Martin said as his eyes caught on the driver’s pale face and frightened eyes,
“I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the car.”
Naoko Tanaka responded
quickly; she opened the car door and stood, silent and ghostlike in the light
breeze. Martin just let her stand there for a few breaths and visually checked
her for weapons, or anything else that his eyes might land on. She didn’t
appear armed, and didn’t give the impression of someone that might be ready to
run. She looked scared. “You aren’t headed towards a hospital Miss Tanaka,” he
said, and lifted his sunglasses with his left hand, letting them rest at his
hairline. “How long has this woman been…” he paused, considering which word to
put in, and settled on simplicity, “How long’s she been dead, and what in God’s
name are you doing with her out on US-30?”
posted by Jeremiah @ 11:35pm
