Part 24 (1/2)

His eyes sought hers and his expression hardened. ”I'm doing my job here, Jade. You'd do well to remember that.”

Howie walked over to where we stood, our eyes locked.

”Hart had his pet zombie here, all droolin' and threatening me, right here,” Howie, the braniac, pointed to where we stood and expounded on his supreme intelligence, ”He threatened me. Can you believe this s.h.i.+t? He threatened me with death!” he snorted. Howie thought he was so funny, what with his supposed pun and all?

No.

But Garcia wasn't caring about the intellectual quotient that was Howie, that accusing stare landed on me like a ton of bricks.

He pressed the tip of the police-grade baton into the tender spot in my throat.

”Nah, Garcia. Do ya see any dead people?” I said out of my half-closed mouth.

Garcia gave a tight smile. ”Why would this guy lie?” he asked, jerking his chin in Howie's direction.

Seriously? d.a.m.n... why wouldn't he? Had Garcia taken a look around the digs here? h.e.l.l, it was Planet Dysfunction.

”He was here! I swear!” Howie said, throwing out his hands, trying his best to look sincere.

He wasn't doing half-bad considering he was telling the truth. I'm sure it wasn't normal for him but whatever.

Garcia straightened, removing the hardness of the piece from under my chin. I fought not to rub it. His stare turned to Brett and Jade. ”I'm going to ask this question once: was Clyde the zombie here today, threatening the victim?”

”Who Howie?” Brett asked with surprise. ”He's the victim?”

Garcia nodded slowly. ”He looks like the victim,” his gaze took in Jade. ”Did you see the zombie?”

Jade gulped when he pointed the nightstick at her.

I didn't like that one little bit.

She shook her head.

Garcia stepped toward her and I did the dumba.s.s again and grabbed his forearm. He whipped that stick around and caught me under my knee.

”d.a.m.n man!” Brett yelled. ”You're a cop! You can't whale on him like that!”

I folded where I stood. I hadn't liked him going toward my girl like he meant harm.

I noticed he wasn't responding to things neutrally anymore, the back of my leg was one big throbbing inferno of pain.

”Raul!”

I knew that voice. I went ahead and puked on the overgrown and weedy Frazier lawn. I guess the hit to my jaw along with the bludgeon to the back of the knee had done me in.

A concussion was looking probable about now.

Gale ran to me, jerking me up to my feet. I turned away from her, puking some more. With any luck I'd get some on that tard, Howie.

I swayed and she said quietly, ”Clyde sent me.”

Well d.a.m.n, that was fast.

Garcia pivoted in his s.h.i.+ny cop shoes and strode to her. It cleared my head immediately.

Nothing like a Chick In Danger to set a dude on point. Even a chick that was a cop.

Former cop.

Jade came jogging after him with Brett on her heels.

He moved to stab a finger in Gale's chest and I swung her behind me, my leg screaming in protest at the pivot.

”Hey Caleb!” she said loudly, ”I've got this!”

His manic gaze swung to mine and he said quietly, ”Get out of my way. As it is, you're in a boatload of trouble young man.”

”You deck your former partner in front of four witnesses and you'll be on the same boat.” I looked over at Howie who scowled at me. ”Three witnesses,” I corrected.

That clown couldn't tell something straight if he had a gun barrel pressed to his forehead.

His expression darkened and he opened his mouth to say something.

”Shut up, Frazier,” I said preemptively.

Gale had weaseled her way around me and stood shouting at Garcia. Jade and Brett slid to a stop at the edge of the ragged brown gra.s.s. I couldn't believe the entire neighborhood hadn't gotten out of their houses to see what the noise was about.

Guess it was pretty typical.

I spit a mess of puke and spittle out on the gra.s.s where no one stood and met Garcia's eyes.

He moved to go around Gale to get to me and she grabbed his forearm to restrain him and he swung the nightstick around, lifting the club above his head, I had a second to react and it wasn't enough.

Gale was trained in hand to hand but not hand to baton. She lifted her forearm to defend her face when the wrist that held it was clamped like a vise.

Clyde was back and things went from bad to worse in a hurry, landslide style.

Garcia, who had lost all sense of justice, his badge winking in the early morning light swept his free arm into Clyde's temple. The knuckles of his index and middle fingers jabbing the tender side of Clyde's head. Clyde stumbled and loosened his hold suddenly.

Garcia tightened his grip on the baton, turning on Gale again in a rage. The face that I'd known before, changed irretrievably into a mask of hate.

Clyde shook his head and charged Garcia. He took him in the gut and they flew, landing onto the patch of gra.s.s that was alarmingly close to my puke.