inside of the police car smelled good. Ramirez’s cologne, or maybe just him. Fuck. It had been way too long since Jimmy got laid. He wasn’t starving for a fuck all the time, like when he was a kid. Then he used to hook up wherever and whenever he could and jerk off when he couldn’t. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have welcomed a nice, hard body against his.
But not a cop’s. Obviously. Jimmy shifted slightly in his seat.
As if cued by the movement, Ramirez spoke. “I am really sorry for the inconvenience, and I appreciate your patience. You did the right thing.”
“I didn’t do anything but not leave.”
“That’s not what I mean. Although I am glad you didn’t run off. I mean, you offered a ride to a man who needed one, and when he died, you called us. Thank you.”
Jimmy shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. Did you find his son?”
“After a little trouble, yes. We were looking for Shane Reynolds instead of Shane Little. He has a different last name than the deceased. But Rattlesnake’s a pretty small town, and the police there helped us track him down.”
“Congratulations on the outstanding detective work.” They were stopped at a light, so Jimmy shot Ramirez a quick grin.
But Ramirez didn’t smile back. “The son didn’t want anything to do with him, not even dead. It’s too bad.”
Jimmy’s gut twisted a little. “So Tom’ll end up cremated, huh? No funeral or anything.”
“Yeah. But you know what? He spent his last hour or so warm and comfortable, and he didn’t die alone. That’s something, I think.”
Maybe. And it was probably the best Jimmy could hope for when he croaked. He hoped nobody ended up stuck at the Comet Motel someday because of him.
There was paperwork, so getting access to the Ford took time. But finally Jimmy held the keys. Ramirez shook his hand. “Thank you again, Mr. Dorsett. Um, we’re just going to pretend you showed me proof of insurance on this thing, right?”
Jimmy hadn’t even thought of that potential problem. Of course he didn’t have any proof because he didn’t have any insurance. “I’d be grateful for that, Officer.”
“Well, drive carefully, then. If you hit someone, do it outside my jurisdiction.”
“Agreed,” Jimmy said, smiling. “No crashes until after I pass the city limits.” With a final handshake, he climbed into his car. The two plastic bags were already in the backseat, along with the duffel. That was all he needed. He waved and pulled onto the street.
He didn’t have a destination in mind, so he let the car take him where it willed. That wasn’t enough to placate the Ford, though. It sounded worse than ever, wheezing and clattering. When he turned north on Highway 99, he managed to get the car up to freeway speed, but barely. And he felt closed in and trapped among the eighteen-wheelers and SUVs and pickups. Driving at night was so much better. It gave him room to stretch.
What truly began to bother him, however, was the passenger seat. It was still reclined, exactly as Tom had left it. And although Jimmy was not a particularly imaginative man, he could almost see the old man lying there, taking his last breaths.
Ramirez had told him the medical examiner’s findings—that Tom had died suddenly and peacefully, probably without even waking up. He had cancer, his liver was shot, and his lungs were a mess, but it was his heart that did him in. Which made sense for a man who’d obviously lived a hard life, and in a way, it was a blessing. When Jimmy’s turn was up, he hoped to go fast too. He didn’t want to linger, maybe stuck in some charity hospital bed with the doctors and nurses impatient for him to croak.
So even if he believed in ghosts—which he didn’t—he saw no reason for Tom to haunt him. But the seat was there, and there was something… expectant about it. Or maybe something demanding.
“Fuck this,” Jimmy grumbled. He took the next exit, which put him at a nowhere crossroads surrounded
But not a cop’s. Obviously. Jimmy shifted slightly in his seat.
As if cued by the movement, Ramirez spoke. “I am really sorry for the inconvenience, and I appreciate your patience. You did the right thing.”
“I didn’t do anything but not leave.”
“That’s not what I mean. Although I am glad you didn’t run off. I mean, you offered a ride to a man who needed one, and when he died, you called us. Thank you.”
Jimmy shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. Did you find his son?”
“After a little trouble, yes. We were looking for Shane Reynolds instead of Shane Little. He has a different last name than the deceased. But Rattlesnake’s a pretty small town, and the police there helped us track him down.”
“Congratulations on the outstanding detective work.” They were stopped at a light, so Jimmy shot Ramirez a quick grin.
But Ramirez didn’t smile back. “The son didn’t want anything to do with him, not even dead. It’s too bad.”
Jimmy’s gut twisted a little. “So Tom’ll end up cremated, huh? No funeral or anything.”
“Yeah. But you know what? He spent his last hour or so warm and comfortable, and he didn’t die alone. That’s something, I think.”
Maybe. And it was probably the best Jimmy could hope for when he croaked. He hoped nobody ended up stuck at the Comet Motel someday because of him.
There was paperwork, so getting access to the Ford took time. But finally Jimmy held the keys. Ramirez shook his hand. “Thank you again, Mr. Dorsett. Um, we’re just going to pretend you showed me proof of insurance on this thing, right?”
Jimmy hadn’t even thought of that potential problem. Of course he didn’t have any proof because he didn’t have any insurance. “I’d be grateful for that, Officer.”
“Well, drive carefully, then. If you hit someone, do it outside my jurisdiction.”
“Agreed,” Jimmy said, smiling. “No crashes until after I pass the city limits.” With a final handshake, he climbed into his car. The two plastic bags were already in the backseat, along with the duffel. That was all he needed. He waved and pulled onto the street.
He didn’t have a destination in mind, so he let the car take him where it willed. That wasn’t enough to placate the Ford, though. It sounded worse than ever, wheezing and clattering. When he turned north on Highway 99, he managed to get the car up to freeway speed, but barely. And he felt closed in and trapped among the eighteen-wheelers and SUVs and pickups. Driving at night was so much better. It gave him room to stretch.
What truly began to bother him, however, was the passenger seat. It was still reclined, exactly as Tom had left it. And although Jimmy was not a particularly imaginative man, he could almost see the old man lying there, taking his last breaths.
Ramirez had told him the medical examiner’s findings—that Tom had died suddenly and peacefully, probably without even waking up. He had cancer, his liver was shot, and his lungs were a mess, but it was his heart that did him in. Which made sense for a man who’d obviously lived a hard life, and in a way, it was a blessing. When Jimmy’s turn was up, he hoped to go fast too. He didn’t want to linger, maybe stuck in some charity hospital bed with the doctors and nurses impatient for him to croak.
So even if he believed in ghosts—which he didn’t—he saw no reason for Tom to haunt him. But the seat was there, and there was something… expectant about it. Or maybe something demanding.
“Fuck this,” Jimmy grumbled. He took the next exit, which put him at a nowhere crossroads surrounded
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