Robert Crane - Soulless

“I don’t know.” I pulled out my phone and pushed the button again. The screen flared to life, giving me a perfect view of the background, but there were no missed calls or waiting text messages. “We kind of had a fight.”

“Oh.” She turned to look at me, then swiveled her gaze back to the road. “What about?”

“Pretty much about what you and Scott were doing just before we left.”

“Sleeping?” She turned to me and then reddened. “Oh. Before that.”

“Yeah.”

She let the silence hang for a minute. “Because you guys can’t…?”

“Yeah.”

I think the edge in my response put her off, because she got quiet before she spoke again. “Not even a little? Like maybe being really careful, with some clothes on, and—”

“No.” I tried to end her inquiries, but I felt my frustration bleed over. “I don’t have much margin for error, Kat. A little unnoticed skin contact in the throes of passion and a few seconds later he’s dead.” I felt the breeze run through my hair. “That’s not really how I would want it to go. It’s not a turn-on, having impending death hanging over you during sex. Especially…” I swallowed heavily again, this time unrelated to that slightly sick feeling that was growing in me. “…you know. The first time. Or hell, any time.”

“I guess it sort of kills the romance, huh?” She looked at me again, and her face turned sympathetic, her eyebrows arched in concern. I found it annoying, especially since I knew she and Scott were having plenty of sex; scads of it, loads of it, probably every single night of the week, and I couldn’t even get a kiss in without worrying about hurting someone. “So, did you and Zack break up?”

“I don’t know.” I frowned. “We didn’t really resolve anything, and he hasn’t tried to talk to me since we fought, so maybe.” I looked over at her. “Why?”

She didn’t look at me, just shook her head, and when she answered, her tone was completely casual. “No reason. Just wondering.” She chanced a glance at me, then half-shrugged. “Well…you were kissing some other guy in a bar…”

“Oh.” I felt a dull pain in my head, and then I slapped myself right on the forehead. “Oh, damn.” How could I have been so stupid? “I didn’t even…it didn’t even occur to me about Zack. Damn, I have a boyfriend. Damn damn damn.”

“Well, maybe.” Kat wasn’t exactly reassuring, even though I knew she meant well, so I spared her the glare.

The trip passed uneventfully, though by the time we reached the sign indicating Red Wing’s city limits, I was feeling a little more ill and had the beginnings of a headache. We pulled up in front of a gas station that had a police car parked outside, lights still flaring. My feet hit the pavement and I steadied myself, my FBI ID already in my hand as I crossed the pavement to talk to the two cops that were standing behind the yellow tape that cordoned off the door.

“I’m Agent Clark and this is Agent Ahern,” I said, my ID wallet unfolded as I ducked under the tape and joined the officers behind the line. “What can you tell us about what happened here, Officer…” I let my eyes find the silver nameplate of one of them. “…Olmstead?”

The one I had spoken to was a bald guy, dark skinned. “We responded to a 911 call a couple hours ago from a customer that came into the station and found the clerk unconscious behind the counter. The guy had been smacked around pretty hard. We sent him to the hospital and started looking over the scene, but we didn’t find much of anything.”

“No forensics?” Kat chimed in, catching the attention of both officers, drawing it away from me. I hated how she could do that, but it was the least of my problems now.

“Nah,” Olmstead answered. “The store serves a couple thousand people a day during the summer, more on a weekend like this. There’s enough hair and fingerprints in this place to start a new civilization in a petri dish, but nothing we can tie to anybody.”

I looked over his shoulder and saw a camera hanging from the awning above the gas pumps. I pointed at it. “What about that?”

“Nothing,” he said with a shake of his head. “Perp took the recording and smashed the system. Most of these smaller stations don’t bother with off-site data backup because they use the cameras more for people who drive off without paying for their gas.”

“Thanks for your help, Officer Olmstead.” I smiled at him and he nodded back, slightly tense from what I presumed was being questioned by the FBI. “We’ll need the name of the victim and which hospital you sent him to.”

“Sure.” He pointed to the road we had just been on. “Hospital is that way. We only have one. Follow the signs and you can’t miss it. Victim’s name is Roger Julian. He was pretty messed up when they carted him away. Couldn’t remember a damned thing.”

I exchanged a look with Kat. “Nothing?” When I turned back to the officer, he shook his head. “How bad was he hurt?”

“Not bad,” Olmstead said. “Scrapes and bruises, lost consciousness for a while. Paramedics said he looked like he’d be just fine, but they wanted to get him an MRI because of the disorientation, the loss of consciousness and the head wound. Thought he might be concussed.”

“Uh huh. Thanks for your help, Officer.” I nodded at him, and Kat and I walked back to the car. I heard him say something under his breath to the cop that was with him about the FBI recruiting toddlers, but I pretended not to hear it. Once we were in the car, I turned to Kat. “Sounds like this one might have the same issue.”

“Yeah.” Kat started the car and put it in gear. “I’m not healing this guy unless he’s got major problems, but I’ll take a look and see how hurt he is. I’m guessing if he can’t remember anything about the attack, he’s suffering from the same kind of memory loss as the last guy.”

“You sure you can’t heal him, just to be safe?”

She let out a slow breath. “I don’t think so. I don’t want to push it. After we get to the hospital, we seriously need to find a place to crash for the night or else you need to take over driving.”

I did a little head shake of my own. I couldn’t tell if I was sober yet, but I doubted it. “We should just find a hotel. I’m not in any condition to drive yet.”

We went a little further down the road, turning when we saw a blue sign with a white H on it. After another mile, the hospital came into view and we parked. It was a predominantly brick building with white trim and an enormous, multi-story octagonal entry. I felt the warmth of the air as I stepped out onto the pavement. I looked into the car before I closed the door; Scott was still passed out in the back, snoring.

I shook my head to clear the cobwebs as I followed Kat across the parking lot and through the sliding doors. The hiss they made as they moved, coupled with the cool air conditioning hitting me in the face, gave me a half-second of disorientation. I’d started sweating, just a little, on the walk from the car. I wished this damned state would come to some sort of happy equilibrium in regards to the weather; but no, she bitterly clung to her extremes.

After inquiring at the check-in desk we were routed up a couple stories to the critical care unit. The tile floor clicked under Kat’s heels and I heard the squeak from the soles of my flats as we walked along. She had slowed her pace so that I would trail behind her. The air bore the familiar smell of disinfectants and I heard raised voices ahead of us. We came around a corner and found a nurse’s station with three security guards surrounding someone.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to—” One of the security guards stepped forward, blocking my view of the person that the three of them had surrounded. A couple nurses were behind the desk in the station, backing away.