Free Serial Date: A Leine Basso Thriller by D.V. Berkom Page B

horror. “No!”
    Peter was at a loss. He would have to make an appointment with Doctor Shapiro, find out if the blackouts could be controlled with new medication. Of course, he'd need to figure out a way to make sure Edward took it. Whenever the blackness won, Edward would have no memory of anything he did. Like when Peter found him standing over their stepfather. He adamantly denied having beaten him to death, even though his blood soaked clothes and the pieces of brain and bone on the bat in his hands told a different story.
    As for the letter, Peter figured Edward wouldn't remember writing the disjointed, rambling manifesto. It didn't sound like him, but Doctor Shapiro suggested his personality had splintered from some childhood trauma. Shapiro didn't know the half of it.
    At a loss, Peter leaned the shovel against the fence and held out his hand. Edward looked up, a hopeful smile on his face.
    “Come on, Eddie. Let's go make us a grilled cheese sandwich and watch some Stooges, okay? You've had enough excitement for one day.”
    Edward grinned and clapped his hands. “Yes—the Three Stooges. I like the Three Stooges.”
    Peter took him by the hand and they walked into the house together.
    “Hey, Moe!”
     
     
     
     

 
     
    Chapter 13
     
     
    “ You hungry?”
    Jensen poked his head out of the bathroom door. Leine corrected herself: Santiago. They'd just had an evening of wild, no-holds-barred sex. Calling him 'Jensen' seemed somehow too removed from what they'd done to each other.
    “Not really,” she replied. “Hey—what do your friends call you? Santiago is nice, but it's a mouthful.”
    Jensen grinned. “Putnam calls me Santa. My mother calls me Santiago Reynaldo Tomàs Jensen, but that's usually when she's mad.”
    “I'll stick with Santiago, or maybe Jensen. Or how about Snookie-wookie-buns? Would that work?”
    He laughed as he came back in the room and crawled into bed. “Yeah, that'd go over great with the guys.” His brilliant green eyes bored into hers. “As long as you call me.”
    She could swear her knees melted. Good thing she was lying down. Jensen bent his head and nipped at her shoulder. He slid down to nuzzle her neck, followed by a slow, leisurely lick of her right nipple. Leine felt a shiver dance down her back.
    “Are you ready for the red-hot tamale grandé?” he asked between nips, his voice husky.
    Leine rolled her eyes and sat up. “Look, Santa baby. It's late, and I've got to be at work in less than an hour. Not that I wouldn't love to stick around, but I need to swing by my place, see if April got back all right.” She sighed. “Hopefully she's calmed down and we're on speaking terms.”
    Jensen lay back with a smile. “No problem. But remember what's waiting for you,” he said, sliding the sheet off his impressive erection.
    Leine laughed as she climbed over him and padded into the bathroom. “Believe me, it'll be tough enough to function today without having that picture in my head.”
     
    ***
     
    Leine kicked the door to the bungalow closed and dropped her purse on the chair by the fireplace. The key was gone from under the pot on the porch. A vase of Black-eyed Susans stood on the counter, along with a twenty-dollar bill. She walked over to the fridge and opened the door. A half-gallon of two percent milk, a block of cheddar and a head of romaine took up residence on one shelf. Several cans of Red Bull stood on another.
    Leine moved down the hallway and stopped at the closed door to the guest bedroom, hesitating to knock. She didn't want to wake April if she'd gotten in late. Thinking better of it, she went to her room, picked out some clean clothes for the day and headed to the bathroom to shower.
    Showered and dressed, she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. The guest room door was open and the bed made. Not sure what mood her daughter would be in, Leine walked to the kitchen, bracing for anything. April sat at the counter, wearing the skull