“I… It happened fast. And slow.” I let Baxter chew on that comment for a moment and wasn’t disappointed when he clarified. “The attack came quickly, but I didn’t die quickly. It was… It hurt.”
“I’m sorry,” Boone said before I could.
Baxter grunted something unintelligible.
“Do you know who attacked you?” I asked.
“No.” One simple word that sank my stomach. “I was in my house, scrolling through social media. I like checking out the new photos Clarissa posts. I remember being pissed because there was a guy I didn’t recognize in one of them, and the next thing I remember is pain. Everything was dark and swirly. I… That’s all I can remember. Fuck it hurt.”
Boone leaned over, his hand fisting in his shirt. Mouth open, soft pants exited his mouth as he drew in harsh breaths.
“Boone?” I grabbed his shoulders, my worry skyrocketing. I rarely saw him this reactive.
“I’m okay. It’s just… The pain is really his overriding emotion. It’s so vast. I don’t think Clinton can really distinguish much more.”
“Okay.” I carded my fingers through Boone’s hair. “Let him go.”
Boone’s neck twisted, his bright green eyes questioning. “Are you sure? I can hold on longer. It’s just memories of his pain, not truly my own.”
“Yours or his, right now I doubt there’s much to distinguish the two. I got what I needed. Let him go.”
Boone’s eyelids slid closed, and his mouth pulled tight before he said, “Clinton Timothy Baxter, I release you. Go in peace.” The relief softening Boone’s expression was instantaneous.
Digging in my pocket, I produced a lemon Jolly Rancher and slid it between Boone’s lips. He didn’t question the action and simply took the piece of candy into his mouth. I didn’t like thebead of sweat sliding down his brow. We still had five more souls to go.
“Dr. Stowe, would you mind calling reception and asking if we can get some food and sodas delivered?”
“It’s already ringing,” Dr. Stowe answered.
I moved Boone to a nearby chair, easing him into it. “We can stop here,” I offered.
As expected, Boone adamantly shook his head. “You need answers.”
“I won’t argue that point, but I can get them the old-fashioned way.” It would take more time, but before I’d met and gotten close to Erasmus Boone, I’d worked homicide cases just like nearly every other human in the country. While I’d never claim to be the best homicide detective out there, I was no slouch either.
Boone offered an understanding grin. “I know you can. But you know me. I like to help when I can.”
“I do know that. What I also know is that you’ll run yourself into the ground doing it.”
Boone’s grin turned into a full-fledged smile. “Pot, meet kettle.”
I started to protest, but the words died on my lips. “We are a pair.”
“That we are.” Boone leaned his head against my thigh. “And I wouldn’t want to be paired with anyone else. This pot is very happy with the kettle he found.”
“Food’s on the way,” Dr. Stowe announced.
Hands pressing against the chair’s armrests, Boone pushed himself up and walked toward the next set of bones. “Come on, Franklin. Momma always said, ‘The sooner you start, the sooner you’re done.’”
Not one to argue with Momma Boone, I dutifully followed Boone, my hand comfortably resting at the small of his back.Eyes slipping closed, Boone said, “Edwin Jonathon Clark, I call your soul back to your body.”
Head tilted back, I stared at the ceiling. John Doe number two now identified. It was Gladys Clark’s son.
Chapter
Nineteen
Erasmus
