Bones to Ashes

Breathe!

A shape crouched beside me. A hand patted my shoulder.

Breathe!

Slowly, the spasm eased its grip on my lungs. I drew air. The droning in my eardrums began to fade.

“—Doc, you sick?” Hippo. Anxious.

I wagged my head.

“You want I should—”

“I’m OK,” I choked out.

“You fall, or what?”

“Pushed.”

“Someone shoved you?”

I nodded. Felt a tremor under my tongue. Swallowed.

“Where were you?”

“Cormier’s studio.”

“He still in there?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t know.”

“Did you get a look at him?”

I probed my addled brain. The man’s back had been to me. Then the attack had happened too quickly.

“No.”

“I didn’t see no one.” Hippo’s tone was hesitant. I knew he was torn between attending to me and dealing with my attacker.

Why had I been attacked? Was I recognized, targeted specifically? Or had I been incidental, an impediment blocking a getaway? Whose getaway?

I lifted both arms, indicating I wanted to get to my feet.

“Hold on.”

Hippo dialed his cell, described what had happened, answered questions with a few crisp oui. When he clicked off our eyes met. We both knew. A patrol unit would come and cruise the street, canvass neighbors. With no witnesses, the odds of catching the guy were a notch north of zero.

I flapped my hands.

“Moses.” Hippo arm-wrapped my waist and hoisted.

I rose, legs trembling.

“Gotta check upstairs,” I said.

“Maybe you should let a doctor—”

Grasping the rail, I climbed to Cormier’s studio. Hippo followed. Murky light oozed from a gap between the door and the jamb. Motioning me behind him, Hippo drew his weapon.

“Police!”

No response.

“Police!” Tension curdled Hippo’s speech. “On defonce.” We’re coming in.

More silence.

Raising a “stay here” palm, Hippo kicked out. The door slammed inward and ricocheted. Elbowing it back, he moved forward, weapon gripped two-handed at the side of his nose.

I heard footsteps as Hippo moved through the flat. A minute later, he called out.

“Clear.”

I entered.

“Here.” Hippo’s voice came from the bathroom in which I’d spotted the intruder.

I hurried down the hall and peered in. This time I took in details that had escaped my earlier quick glance.

The overhead pipes were concealed by a drop-ceiling arrangement of twelve-inch panels framed in thin metal strips. Several panels had been ripped free and tossed into the sink.

Hippo was standing on the commode, shining his flashlight into the newly created breach.

Anger overpowered the pain in my head. “How could someone just waltz in here?”

Hippo raised up onto his toes.