JК
Cerulean Sins :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 106 из 352He wouldn't do anything bad, just irritating.
I stumbled on the steps leading up to the small front porch. If Zerbrowski hadn't caught me, I'd have fallen.
"Jesus, Anita, you should be in bed."
"That's what I told Dolph."
He eased me through the door and found me a small straight-backed chair in the hallway. "I'll tell Dolph how sick you are and let the kid take you home."
"No," I said, though I did lay my forehead on my knees while the world steadied around me.
"Jesus, Anita, you're as stubborn as he is. Dolph won't take no for an answer, so you drag your ass out of a sickbed to come down here. I give you an out, where I'll take the heat from Dolph, but nooo, you're going to show Dolph that you're just as stubborn and bullheaded as he is. You planning to faint in his arms? That'll really show him."
"Shut up, Zerbrowski."
"Fine, you sit there for a few minutes. I'll come back and check on you, and I'll escort you through the crime scene. But you're being stupid."
I spoke with my face still in my lap. "If Dolph were sick, he'd still be here."
"That doesn't prove you're right, Anita, that just proves you're both stupid." With that he walked away, farther into the house. It was good that he left, because for the life of me, I couldn't have argued with him.
18
When Zerbrowski first led me into the room, I thought, there's a man levitating against that wall. He did look like he was floating. I knew that wasn't true, but for just a moment my eyes, my mind, tried to make that what I saw. Then I saw the dark lines where blood had dried on the body. It looked as if he'd been shot, a lot, and bled, but bullets wouldn't have kept him pinned to the wall.
Strangely, I wasn't faint, or nauseous, or anything. I felt light and distant, and more solid than I'd felt in hours. I kept walking towards the man on the wall. Zerbrowski's hand slipped away from mine, and I was steady on my high heels in the soft carpet.
I had to be almost underneath the body before my eyes could make sense of it, and even then, I was going to have to ask someone who was more tool-oriented if I was right.
It looked like someone had taken a nail gun, one of those industrial size nail guns, and nailed the man to the wall. His shoulders were about eight feet off the ground, so either they'd used a ladder, or they'd been close to seven feet tall.
The dark spots on the body were at both palms, both wrists, forearms just above the elbows, shoulders, collarbones, lower legs just below the knees, just above the ankles, then through each foot.
I stumbled on the steps leading up to the small front porch. If Zerbrowski hadn't caught me, I'd have fallen.
"Jesus, Anita, you should be in bed."
"That's what I told Dolph."
He eased me through the door and found me a small straight-backed chair in the hallway. "I'll tell Dolph how sick you are and let the kid take you home."
"No," I said, though I did lay my forehead on my knees while the world steadied around me.
"Jesus, Anita, you're as stubborn as he is. Dolph won't take no for an answer, so you drag your ass out of a sickbed to come down here. I give you an out, where I'll take the heat from Dolph, but nooo, you're going to show Dolph that you're just as stubborn and bullheaded as he is. You planning to faint in his arms? That'll really show him."
"Shut up, Zerbrowski."
"Fine, you sit there for a few minutes. I'll come back and check on you, and I'll escort you through the crime scene. But you're being stupid."
I spoke with my face still in my lap. "If Dolph were sick, he'd still be here."
"That doesn't prove you're right, Anita, that just proves you're both stupid." With that he walked away, farther into the house. It was good that he left, because for the life of me, I couldn't have argued with him.
18
When Zerbrowski first led me into the room, I thought, there's a man levitating against that wall. He did look like he was floating. I knew that wasn't true, but for just a moment my eyes, my mind, tried to make that what I saw. Then I saw the dark lines where blood had dried on the body. It looked as if he'd been shot, a lot, and bled, but bullets wouldn't have kept him pinned to the wall.
Strangely, I wasn't faint, or nauseous, or anything. I felt light and distant, and more solid than I'd felt in hours. I kept walking towards the man on the wall. Zerbrowski's hand slipped away from mine, and I was steady on my high heels in the soft carpet.
I had to be almost underneath the body before my eyes could make sense of it, and even then, I was going to have to ask someone who was more tool-oriented if I was right.
It looked like someone had taken a nail gun, one of those industrial size nail guns, and nailed the man to the wall. His shoulders were about eight feet off the ground, so either they'd used a ladder, or they'd been close to seven feet tall.
The dark spots on the body were at both palms, both wrists, forearms just above the elbows, shoulders, collarbones, lower legs just below the knees, just above the ankles, then through each foot.