PsyCop 4: Secrets Read Online Free PDF Page B

in boxes, with a bunch of really dinky white furniture shoved against one wall, and Jacob’s big, majestic pieces placed randomly throughout the room.
    I clutched at the railing and closed my eyes. It was all too much: the move, my Internet-nonexistence, and now this fucking housewarming party.
    I decided to unpack. Not because I was planning a get-together, but because I figured it was a logical thing to do since I’d just moved. Even though I had no intention of opening my house up to the rest of the precinct, my conversation with Betty kept on drifting   through my head as I opened boxes, stared at their contents, and realized that unless it belonged in the kitchen or bathroom, I had no idea where to put anything.
    Did I need a fake bedroom? It seemed like a real waste, since although the loft was big, it didn’t have many separate rooms. It could be a guest room. But who would stay over—Jacob’s parents? Maybe. Or Lisa, if she ever spoke to me again. And since I hadn’t heard from Lisa since she changed her phone number on me, I wasn’t going to hold my breath.
    I carried the box with Jacob’s computer stuff upstairs, realized that there was no way to hook it up to the Internet up there, and brought it all back down. I considered stowing all my furniture in the basement. But since that would involve me going down into the basement , I decided against it.
    I stared at the mess all around me and felt useless. I rummaged through some coat pockets, a briefcase and a duffel bag, and located a few stashes of Auracel and Seconal and a stray tab of Valium. I considered calling it an early, early night with the help of my prescription friends, but I decided it was really too pathetic for me to go to bed before it was even dark out.
    I went into the kitchen, opened up my laptop and signed in.
    The virus definitions didn’t start downloading. Amazing. I wondered if I’d broken it the night before. And then a little box popped up.
    Ash Man: hey psy-pig - what r u wearing?
    Huh? I stared at the box.
    Ash Man: cat got ur tongue - or is mr perfect right there?
    Crash had figured out yet another way to insinuate himself into my life. Great. I put the cursor in the box, typed something back and hit enter.
    LETS69: what did you do to my computer…is it ok…i’m not on any search engines…either is maurice hardly
    What the fuck was “LETS69” supposed to be? Was that me? Cute, real cute.
    Ash Man: doesnt ur comp work faster now? i can cum over if ur still having trouble
    LETS69: don’t come over
    Ash Man: ok lets just cyber then - i promise it doesnt count as cheating -
    what r u wearing???
    I closed the laptop’s lid. It didn’t make that annoying beep again like it had the previous night. Not bad.
    I made myself a sandwich, ate it, and considered making another. My cell phone rang.

    Good thing I have caller ID. Otherwise, I would have said something stupid, like, “Quit bugging me.” Because if Crash was desperate enough to try to have cyber sex, no doubt he’d be persistent enough to try phone sex, too.
    It wasn’t Crash on the line. It was Carolyn.
    “Hello?”
    “Hello, Vic? Is Jacob around? He’s not answering his cell.” I looked around the room as if he would just appear there. He didn’t. “He’s not with you?”
    “We left fifteen minutes ago. Are you at home? I don’t have the number for your land line.”
    The carbonless form was sitting right where on the countertop, just where I’d left it. One corner of it had gotten wet and then dried wrinkly, with the ink smudged in a snowflake pattern. I read the land line number to Carolyn, and thought about writing it down somewhere for myself. But then, I didn’t see a pen anywhere, and promptly forgot.
    “Tell Jacob to call me. He’s not feeling very good about this case.” Could anybody feel good about a case in an old folks’ home? “What’s going on? Anything I can help you with?”
    “You know I can’t discuss the particulars with