Over the Darkened Landscape - By Derryl Murphy Page 0,40

shut off the light and went to bed, shedding clothes in the hall, utterly dejected, lost in this new body.

The phone rang at 7:30, waking him from an unsettled sleep. It was Simone.

“I talked to the captain, and he gave me an idea about how much more you’re going through. So I’m coming by with some sweats, and then we’re going out to get you some coffee and breakfast and then some new clothes.”

Mike rubbed his eyes. “Thanks, but I have to get down to the lab.”

“Captain’s orders. Have a shower, and I’ll be there in ten minutes.” She paused. “Besides, the captain will meet us with all the results, probably while we’re eating.”

“Right.” He leaned over and hung up the phone, then slowly pulled himself out of bed. When he was essentially vertical he realized he had to pee like nobody’s business, so he hurried into the john to relieve himself. After what seemed a crazily long time standing there—he was amazed that his body could hold that much piss—he flushed and then turned on the shower, climbed in while it was still too hot and danced around inside while he worried at the faucet, finally setting the temperature right only after alternately scalding and freezing several parts of his body.

When he was done he brushed his teeth in front of the misted-over mirror, ran a comb through his hair, then headed to the bedroom to put on underwear and a housecoat, stooping down with some effort to pick up last night’s clothes on his way. Then he sat on the edge of his bed and just waited.

Five minutes later there was a knock at the door. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them and went to answer. Simone stood there, grocery bag in one hand, smiling. She wasn’t dressed for work.

“Captain gave me a few hours off. I get to spend it helping you acclimatize.” She shoved the bag into his hands. “Here. It ain’t high fashion, but it’ll do for the diner. Go get dressed.”

“If you have some free time, shouldn’t you be spending it with your family?”

Simone rolled her eyes and pushed her way past Mike. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she said, “I said the captain gave me free time. To be with you, not to piss away my day pretending I still have a life.”

The look on her face told him to not bother asking any more questions, so he went to his room and changed. Basic gray sweats, loose sweater, then his own socks and sneakers. “Where to?” he asked as he opened the door to the outer hallway.

“The Ritz Diner. I’m having fried eggs and hash browns and coffee, lots of it.” The two of them climbed into her car, and she started it up. “You?”

He thought for a second. “Pancakes, side of sausage, OJ, coffee.” His stomach rumbled. He was hungrier than he’d thought.

They got a booth near the front of the diner. Mike watched Simone prepare her coffee—two scoops of sugar and one creamer—and copied her, found that it was more palatable that way. After the first jolt hit his system he leaned back and closed his eyes, almost smiling, picturing himself having a day off where nothing was weighing on his mind.

“You gonna stay with the case?” asked Simone.

He cocked one eye open, stared at her. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “You’ve already done what the captain asked you to do. You crossed the Line, checked out the evidence, there’s not much more you need to do, if you don’t want. I know that the captain has other people on the job now, folks who’ll stay safe on this side of the Line.”

He shook his head. “Are you saying I’m expendable? Now that I’ve done my bit and took away fifteen or twenty years from my life, now I don’t need to stick around anymore?”

Simone leaned forward and put a hand on his arm. “Cool down, Mike. I was just asking. The captain didn’t say nothing about you being pulled from the case. He just wanted me to make sure you were okay. I’m your partner, even if it’s only been a couple of days. It’s my job to look out for you.” Mike looked out the window, watching a mother and her three young children walking by. “You have kids?”

She took her hand away. “Used to. Jason was thirteen when he was hit by a bus, two years ago.”

Mike grimaced. “Jesus.

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