Bad Karma

number when we get back to the hotel and you can try him tomorrow.”

“Les Hasherford,” Shannon repeated. “His name’s familiar.” He hesitated, his eyes squinting as he concentrated. “I think he consulted on a case in Watertown when I was on the force. If I remember right he helped find a little girl who had been buried in some perv’s basement. He saved her life.”

Susan nodded, her eyes misting. “He told me about that when he found out I was from Cambridge. You don’t know what it means to me to be able to have this type of impact on his life.”

“I’m proud of you, darling,” Shannon said.

“I know.” Her eyes turned liquid as she closed them part way and flashed a smile that made him weak in his knees. “Right now I wish we had ordered room service,” she said, her voice a soft throaty whisper.

Shannon nodded silently. He dropped twenty dollars on the table to cover the bill, then walked Susan out of the restaurant. Eddie had packed up and left his spot under the streetlamp and the rest of Pearl Street seemed desolate; the few college kids and transients they had passed earlier having already called it a night. Susan held him close as they walked, her thin arm wrapped tightly around his waist. In the cool night air he could feel her body shiver. It was so quiet and still out, as if they had all of downtown Boulder to themselves. When they got back to their room, Susan took hold of his hand and led him to the bed. He watched as she undressed and then he joined her. There was so much emotion in her, so much passion as her body buckled wildly under his, her breath hot against his face. It was a long time before they were done.

Afterwards, Susan fell asleep quickly, her head nestled against his shoulder, her legs lying over his, one of her arms stretched across his chest. There was a contentment in her as she slept. Shannon had an arm around her side and could feel the rising and falling of her ribs as she breathed. He let his hand drop so that his fingertips touched her small hip and felt the coolness of her skin. He felt relaxed as he lay there, as if he could drift off easily. He almost did several times, but he tried to stay awake and concentrate on one of the lucid dream exercises Eli had given him. It was hard, though, his thoughts drifting away while his own breathing grew more shallow.

Then he was simply drifting along, his body bobbing up and down as if he were riding waves at the beach. After a while he saw her in the distance. A shawl draped over her shoulders covered her as she sat with her knees bent to her chest and her hands clasped together around her legs. She looked so small and frail sitting alone, almost like a porcelain figurine. Long blond hair fell past her shoulders and ran halfway down her back. She turned to face him and he recognized her. Reluctantly, he accepted that he would have to talk to her. The next thing he knew he was no longer floating peacefully in the current he’d been caught up in, but now had his feet rooted firmly on the ground as he stood next to her. He saw the headstone by her elbow, then all the others. As he read the words carved on the polished black granite stone next to her, he realized she was sitting by her own grave.

“Linda Gibson?” he asked her.

She nodded, her eyes glassy as she looked up at him. Her face was as expressionless as a doll’s. She pulled the shawl tighter around her.

“The police are investigating your father now.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“Did he kill you?”

She shrugged weakly. “What do you think?”

Shannon found himself shaking his head. “Your mother?”

“No.”

“But your father-he did abuse you?”

“Yes, he did. Since I was twelve. He didn’t stop until I was fifteen. When I went to college he started on Gloria. There was no one to protect her after I left.”

“Is that why your mother sent her off to France?”

“No. Mom did that after I confronted her and Dad over Thanksgiving. Before that I don’t think it much mattered to her.”

“Your mother knew what he did to you?”

“She knew. I told her dozens of times, but she always acted as if I were making it up. She knew, though. It’s why she wouldn’t let me see a gynecologist until he stopped. She didn’t want anyone seeing the bruising and swelling that he caused.”

“I’m so sorry, Linda.”

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for.”

“I’m still sorry that had to happen to you.”

She nodded, her expression still little more than what could’ve been painted on a doll’s face.

“Linda, who killed you?” he asked.

She stared blankly at him, didn’t answer.

“Can you at least give me a clue?”

Her lips twisted into a slight smile. “Mit vergnugen,” she told him.

He woke up then. For a minute or so, he tried to hold onto the peacefulness he’d felt when he’d been floating in his dream. It was gone, though, no remnants of it remained for him to grasp onto. Grudgingly he gave it up, and instead thought about the conversation his dream-self had with Linda Gibson. He decided that she was nothing more than the manifestation of his subconscious, brought up so he could work out his thoughts about her and the events of the past day. He got up, scribbled down some notes, then went back to bed. After a long time he drifted into something close to sleep.

Chapter 11

Shannon was up before the alarm clock rang the next morning. While he’d slept restlessly most of the night, he felt physically better than he had the last couple of days-less stiff and almost no pain cutting through his ribs when he sucked in air. Still, he couldn’t shake an overall feeling of uneasiness. Before leaving, he kissed Susan on the cheek and whispered to her that he was meeting Eli. She stirred, half awake, moving so she could brush her lips against his.

“Busy day?” she said softly, her eyes barely open as she looked at him.

“I think so. How about you?”

“Mostly free. One appointment this afternoon.” She stretched her slender body in a way that reminded him of a cat. “It will give me time to shop for a pair of pom-poms. We’ll meet back here for dinner?”

“I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” she said, her voice drowsy and tailing off into a low murmur. She rolled onto her side, her eyes closed as she seemed to drift back to sleep. Shannon reached over and kissed her forehead, then left the room.

When he got to Juiced Up, he found Eli standing in front of their usual morning haunt, his arms crossed and his eyes drooping half-closed as if he were falling asleep. He gave Shannon his typical deadpan stare and told him that the store was late opening up, then rapped a heavy set of knuckles against the glass door. A college-aged girl inside with red frizzy hair held up a finger to indicate one more minute.

“Intolerable,” Eli muttered, grimacing to show his perceived injury. “They’re supposed to open at six thirty. It’s almost seven.”

Shannon laughed. “Maybe if you weren’t decked out like a gang member she would’ve opened up already.”

He gave Shannon a quick sideways glance and flared a nostril to show that a response would be beneath him. He then asked brusquely how Wichita was.

“Flat.”

“I would expect so,” Eli said, a bare trace of a smile ruining his deadpan expression. “You know full well I was asking whether it was eventful.”

“In that case, I’d say so. Best apple pie I’ve had in years.”

Eli turned and stared at him as if he were an idiot-or worse, that Shannon was once again trying to argue that the ’04 Red Sox were a better baseball team than the ’98 Yankees. The redhead working in the store interrupted them by unlocking the door and letting them in. Shannon stopped to tell her his theory on why she left Eli standing out on the doorstep. “But once I came along, one look at my mug and you knew it was safe,” he added. She laughed at that. “That’s right. His NY Yankees jersey and baseball cap screamed gangbanger-even though I’ve been