Free A Killing Rain by P.J. Parrish Page B

collar of his jacket against the cold of the freezer and started toward the door. Joe zipped up the body bag and came out into the hall, where Louis was waiting.
    Louis rubbed a hand over his bristly face. He leaned back against the cold white tiles and let out a tired sigh.
    “I don’t know where to go next,” he said.
    “Sometimes there’s nowhere to go,” she said. “At least for the moment. If you want to hang around until tomorrow, you can help canvas the area around the office. See who saw what.”
    Louis glanced up at the clock. It was five-thirty-five a.m. No way could he make it back home across Alligator Alley without falling asleep. And he wanted to stay. He wanted to know more. He wanted to be the one to find Benjamin, if he was here.
    He nodded slowly. “All right” he said.
    He followed Joe back outside, still shivering from the cool air in the morgue.
    “You remember how to get back to your hotel?” she asked.
    Louis glanced to his right, seeing in the foggy distance the fuzzy headlights that dotted the freeway. Shit. He had no idea. But he wasn’t about to tell her that.
    “You take a wrong turn down here, you’re a dead man before dawn,” she said.
    He looked at her.
    “My apartment is only a few miles. Come with me. Grab a few hours sleep and I’ll take you back to Eighth Street in the morning.”
    He glanced at his car.
    “It’ll be safe here. The employees start showing up at six.”
    “You got any food?” Louis asked.
    She laughed softly. “Food and a couch.”
    He climbed into her red Bronco, the cold rippling through him. She saw it and turned on the heater.
    “Damn, it’s cold,” he said.
    “It snowed here once —- 1977,” Joe said. “I came out that morning and there was friggin’ snow on my windshield.” She put the car into reverse. “Thought I left that shit behind when I left Ohio.”
    She swung the car onto the empty road and accelerated so quickly Louis was pressed back against the seat. He took a moment to close his eyes but his mind was awake, alive with images of what he had seen today. He pushed them away, but now he was seeing Susan, sitting on her sofa, phone in hand, eyes reddened. He flashed onto another woman, a faceless mother somewhere who was crying for the boy back in the freezer.
    “I need to call the mother,” Louis said.
    “Not a problem,” Joe said, turning into an apartment complex parking lot.
    She led him up some stairs, pausing outside a heavy door that read: 3C. She opened the deadbolt first, then the lock above the doorknob, and shoved the door open with her hip.
    He followed her inside. There was a light on in the corner. It was a small apartment, with a kitchen separated from the living room by a bar and a sliding glass door that opened onto a small balcony. He could see a sleek ten-speed bike out on the balcony.
    He heard her snap shut the two locks, then she moved by him, slipping off her scarf and jacket. She dropped both on a chair, heading to the kitchen. She was wearing a thin gray shirt with short sleeves. Her skin was pale and Louis could see a small tattoo on her upper arm. It was a lizard.
    A calico cat appeared in the hall, let out a cry, then followed her to the kitchen, jumping up on the counter. She cupped its face in her hands to rub noses with it. She was talking to the cat like it was a baby.
    She reached for the bag of cat food and shook it. Another cat strolled out, and the room filled with hungry cries as she fed them.
    “Two?” Louis asked.
    “I used to have seven.”
    She flicked on the coffee and opened a cupboard, bringing down two mugs. From the refrigerator, she took out two containers and set them on the counter.
    Louis took off his jacket and came forward, picking up one of the containers she had set out. Dannon blueberry yogurt. This was food?
    He heard her laugh and looked up.
    “You should see the look on your face,” she said.
    “I’m sorry. I guess I was expecting eggs or... something.”
    She