Karma: A Blayne Mitchell Novel

8

Chapter 8

Bad decision, not sleeping. Sleep deprivation is one of the leading causes of mistakes and idiocracy in the world. Apart from natural genes. And mistakes and idiocracy are not the best traits when trying to solve a homicide case. Not at all.

I woke up with a pounding headache and an aching brain. Not the best either. I stumbled into the bathroom, took a cold shower to wake up, and tripped at least three times before making it back into the bedroom. I then proceeded to walk outside. And I realized I had no shirt on. I bolted back into the hotel room, threw on a shirt, then strolled back outside appearing as if nothing had happened. After confirming that nobody had witnessed, I headed for the Applebee's

"Hey, dipshit!" A voice shouted after me. I whirled around to see Andrew leaving the hotel. I stopped to let him catch up, and to think of a comeback. None came.

"The food will be gone from there by now." He smirked.

"I know." I lied sheepishly, "Just going to scout around for another place."

Andrew snorted sarcastically, "'Course you were." I averted my eyes and kept walking. He fell into line beside me.

"Did you get any sleep last night? He asked. I paused, "Some. Why?"

"Your shirt's on backwards, and I heard you trampling around in your room. Honestly, either the walls are paper thin, or you became the hulk. It was loud." He said, and I blushed. I checked the tag, and indeed, the shirt was backwards. I blushed harder and turned it around.

"Happy?" I snapped, "And I haven't the faintest idea why you picked a room so close to mine."

"Maybe it's the primeval fear of being alone in an abandoned hotel." He proposed.

"Oh, yes." I rolled my eyes, "They obviously had hotels in primeval times."

"You never know, man. Those neanderthals were creepy. And wicked smart." Andrew mimed fear, and I chuckled. We continued the stroll up Grannis Road in silence, not really going anywhere, not really wanting too.

Marysville was a very plain town so far. It seemed like the architects had liked the first square mile, so they had just copied it until, voilá!, the town of Marysville was made. I guess it was livable, but the tall shadow cast by Seattle dwarfed the town.

We crossed the road and followed 88th Street past the Applebee's. About exactly across from Applebee's was a Starbucks that we decided to stop by and forage. The power was still on so I made myself tea, and Andrew made some complicated, modified form of coffee. He navigated the machines flawlessly. I had trouble figuring out which buttons correlated with the chai tea. In the end, we sat down with our drinks and some leftover food. His coffee had a perfect swirl of cream on top. Mine looked like a two-year old had sprinkled peppers and leaves in water and mashed them together. A pretty good approximation of what tea was.

"Get a response from the DMV?" Andrew asked. I shook my head and took a sip of the drink.

"Forgot to check voicemail. Do hotel phones have voicemail?" I said.

"No idea. I would think not, but maybe this one does. Who do you think the car belongs to?" He asked back.

"Vance, for sure." I answered.

Andrew sipped his coffee and knit his eyebrows, "Then why call it in?" I shrugged.

"Precautionary. Always double check or triple check when you can. And I wanted to track the plate, too."

Andrew shrugged back, "If he's smart like you, he'd have ditched the car or changed his plate." I chuckled, "That's a pretty big if."

One moment, Andrew and I were peacefully eating breakfast. The next, we were speeding in Garrett's cruiser towards the department. No playful banter, or any words for that matter, were exchanged. Just the chilling silence of tragedy stalked the drive. Garrett drove into the empty lot, and we all climbed out reluctantly. Dread weighed in our hearts like cold stones and our feet were hesitant with dismay. Dunphy was visible through the window, pacing restlessly.