Free Deadly Expectations by Elizabeth Munro Page B

I’d ever seen but that wasn’t it either.   I stared mesmerised even though it was out of sight behind the plastic side of the tub only a tiny bit aware of my body heat melting the snow I sat in so it soaked through my pants.
    “Anna?” It was Ray’s voice from inside the big garage.   “Anna?”
    I heard him trudge over the footprints I’d left in the snow no longer caring if I got caught.
    “Are you okay?” Ray asked.   I shook my head.   “Hurt?”
    I pointed at the tote.
    “Shit,” Ray sighed under his breath as he tried to pull me to my feet.   I wrapped my arms around my legs refusing.   I wasn’t leaving without an explanation.   Ray took out his radio instead of trying again.   “Victor Whiskey.”
    “Whiskey Victor,” Paul’s voice replied after a minute.
    “Ten twenty-five Station Two,” Ray said.   God, I wondered if he was going to take me to the house in the back seat of a car.
    “Copy Victor, Whiskey out.”
    “Come on Kiddo,” Ray tried.
    I shook my head.   Ray squatted down in front of me to block my view so I stared through him.   Our stalemate continued until Paul arrived.
    “She okay?” he asked with concern at seeing Ray kneeling over me.
    “Tote.”
    “Ah fuck,” Paul said.   “Sugar, I need you to get up and come with me.”
    I looked up at Paul as I slowly clued in.   As I took in the man in charge who made the decision to put the dead man in the box anger and queasiness vied for my attention.   My hands came up as I stood and took a step back from both of them.
    “Why?” I demanded mentally digging in to challenge him.
    “Because I’m asking,” he said.   Your tone wasn’t asking at all, I thought.   I glanced between them at the tote. The jacket and helmet stuffed in with him I recognized.
    “He tried to run me into a car.”
    Paul’s face started to twist into a menacing grimace as one hand absently dropped to his knife and the other took my elbow.   Only his voice was calm.   “Then I don’t want you near him.”   Knuckles whitened around the handle.   I had no doubt the death grip on the hilt wasn’t meant for me, the hand on my elbow remained relaxed.
    I stuck my chin up at him mostly in defiance but also to help keep lunch down.   “Why is he with the garbage?” I hissed through my teeth.
    He looked incredulous.   Shaking his head he let go of the knife, furiously stabbing his finger at the dead man for emphasis.   “He tried to put my girl and my baby through a windshield!   He is garbage!”   Paul was turning a colour you could only get by mixing red with blue.   “Then he brought a gun to my house and tried to shoot one of my men.”
    I started to nod in understanding.   This was nothing but petty punishment that wasn’t hurting the dead man at all.   I shook free of him.
    “What’s on his hand?” I demanded.
    He looked over then back at me.
    “The shiny round thing?”   That was what upset me so much.   He shook his head.
      “He stopped being garbage when he died Paul,” I said quietly as I tried to calm us both down.   The madder I got the closer I got to throwing up on him.   Paul crossed his arms and looked away.
    “Somewhere there is someone just like me who’s thinking about him every day.   You can just bet she wasn’t on a motorcycle on the highway with me.   She had no idea where he was or what he was doing.”
    I glanced at Ray a few feet away and stepped closer to Paul.
    “You dumped me so I wouldn’t be that woman,” I whispered trying to speak as privately as I could.   “Now you’re fucking over someone else’s wife.   Nice work garbage man.   You’re being an asshole.”
    I staggered off shivering in my wet jeans and shaking with nausea making it half way down the alley before lunch landed in the snow.   A hand rested on my back and I recognized Ray’s legs.   When I finally stood I held my head high and walked away back to the house.   Paul hadn’t turned up by the time