Life in Shadows (9 page)

“OK,
you get the clothes he just took off in the bathroom. And the towels, too.”

“What?”
hissed Onyx. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

Molly’s
huge grin impacted her credibility as she said, “I wouldn’t kid about something
like this. We need the bath towels, too, or he could walk outside with one
wrapped around him.”

“How’s
he gonna dry off?”

“Leave
all the hand towels,” Molly snickered. “Anyway, you gotta go up there and get
‘em before he gets out of the shower!”

“Me?”
Onyx fairly shrieked. She lowered her voice to a hiss when Molly shushed her,
but didn’t lose her intensity. “Why the fuck do I have to go up there?”

“Because
I don’t want to risk seeing my uncle naked in the shower!” Molly hissed back.
“You’re the stealthier one, anyway. Now go! I’ll start moving the rest of this
into the car.”

Onyx
struggled for a counter-argument, but failed. Deep down inside, she had to
concede this was hilarious. And fun. She looked to Attila for support. “This is
crazy, isn’t it?”

The
cat didn’t respond. “He doesn’t see a problem with this,” Molly said. “Go.”

Onyx
threw her a glare, then turned away and started up the stairs. She paused to
say over her shoulder, “You’re sending me into a room with your naked uncle.”

Molly
shot a glare right back at her. “I’m gonna screw you until you can’t even
remember me having an uncle,” she threatened.

Onyx
grinned. “Awesome,” she said, and rushed up the stairs.

The
sound of the shower reassured her as she entered the bedroom. Onyx crept up to
the bathroom door, nudging it open carefully and looking inside. Sure enough,
Kevin had only half-closed the shower curtain. She had a great view of his
naked backside.

She
bit down on her fist. Despite her relentless teasing, she wasn’t
that
hung up on him. But he was awfully nice to look at: a nice face and body,
intriguing scars, the paratrooper tattoo behind his shoulder and that adorable
ass. He was a great topic to tease her lover over.

Onyx
thought about the bad run of luck he’d mentioned downstairs. Some of that had
been the alcohol talking. Kevin generally wasn’t one to mope or feel sorry for
himself. Still, she couldn’t help but pity him a little. She felt a slight pang
of guilt for the prank she was pulling, too. It wasn’t remotely enough guilt to
overcome her amusement or change her mind on the whole thing, but she opted to
try to make up for it.

She
whispered the words of a charm for luck, concentrating her thoughts on Kevin as
she softly sounded out the incantation. One could never really know if such a
spell worked, since luck was always subjective. Who’s to say what trouble might
be avoided by staying home and doing nothing? Perhaps not getting hit on the
head by a meteor on Thursday was luck and one simply didn’t know any better.

She
finished her plea to the universe, then slipped inside, gathered up his pants,
his shirt, his socks and underwear and the larger towels off the rack—and took
another gleeful look at his glutes before she made her escape.

*   *   *

Kevin
awoke to Attila pushing head-first under his arm. Satisfied that his human was
now cuddling him, intentionally or not, Attila settled back down again. Kevin
gave a little smile. Attila was a good cat.

Kevin
lay on his belly with his head hanging halfway off the side of the bed, which,
now that he was partly awake and considering it, seemed a little odd.

Sensory
information pushed his brain along. He wasn’t cold, but he wasn’t exactly warm,
either. He must’ve kicked off all the covers. Kevin shifted and realized he was
utterly naked.

The
sun was up, but that meant nothing. It was probably only five-thirty, if even
that. The problem with Seattle summers was the ridiculous length of the day;
sleeping late became a challenge because the sun went down so late and came up
again so goddamn early.

He
wasn’t late for work, though. No, it wasn’t that. His alarm didn’t go off.
Plus, he remembered now, he wasn’t supposed to go in anyway. He was on leave.
He’d shot someone yesterday. Two someones. Right.

The
bar. Shit. Molly and Onyx. Hopefully they had left before he took off all his
clothes and fell on top of his bed naked. After the shower. Right. He vaguely
remembered that part.

He
must have been really drunk, too, because he remembered using the hand towels
to dry off, as if he couldn’t find his regular towels. That was stupid. How
drunk do you have to be to lose your bath towels in your bathroom?

He
risked turning his head, not quite lifting it off the mattress, to look at
Attila. The cat’s eyes were already closed, but his ears twitched in obvious
disapproval of any disturbance. It was a necessary experiment. The movement did
nothing bad to his brain. “Well, ‘m not hungover,” Kevin mumbled. “That’s
good.”

Attila
had nothing to say in response to this. He never did, and it would freak Kevin
the hell out if that ever changed, but Kevin talked to him anyway.

“I
gotta hit the bathroom,” Kevin muttered. “Sorry, buddy.” He fumbled and crawled
upright, leaving Attila to once again fuss around for a comfortable position on
the bed. As he staggered to the bathroom, he stepped on a damp hand towel, and
then another. “Must’ve been really fucking drunk,” Kevin mused as he staggered
into the bathroom. His eyes hardly opened during the whole process. They even
remained closed as he washed his hands. It was the unexpected difficulty in
drying them that forced him to look around.

There
were no bath towels at all. None on the rack, none on the floor, or hanging
over the shower curtain rod. “What the hell?” He shuffled out into his bedroom
again, picked up one of the hand towels to dry his hands off, and then noticed
how out of place things were.

His
closet was open and largely empty. The drawers were missing from his dresser.
The realization that he might have been robbed woke him up instantly. Kevin’s
eyes took in the whole room. His wallet was still on the dresser, as were his
keys, but his phone was gone. He rushed to the closet, found his uniform belt
still hanging there with all his equipment. His gun safe was undisturbed. The
dirty clothes hamper was gone, though. So were his spare bed sheets. What the
fuck?

A
moment later, Kevin found the note taped to his doorframe. It was a simple,
folded-over piece of computer paper with his name on it, written in black pen.

“
Dear
Kevin: You said you needed something to get your mind off yesterday. Hope this
helps. Your clothes, towels, sheets, laptop and phone are safe with us. We
checked to make sure you have plenty of food. We’ll play answering service for
you if anything comes up and we’ll be back late tomorrow evening with your
stuff. Chill out, play video games and watch some porn or whatever it is guys
do when they hang around the house alone and naked. Love, Molly and Onyx
.”

His
eyes flared. He looked around his room again twice to make sure he wasn’t
dreaming. His bed contained only pillows, a bottom sheet, and a cat who looked
up at him like he might be crazy.

Kevin
flew out of his bedroom and headed downstairs. Maybe they were still there.
Maybe that was the prank. Screw it; if they wanted to see him naked, then here
he was, naked, and if he saw a single solitary camera he’d take it and—

No.
Nobody home. The place was completely quiet. The drapes were drawn shut. The
lights were all off. Kevin stood naked in his silent, peaceful home. Naked and
alone.

Except,
that is, for the cat. Attila followed him downstairs and headbutted his ankle
with a purr to remind Kevin that as long as he was up, he could always
replenish the food dish.

*   *   *

He
cooked his breakfast naked. On a normal working day he didn’t have time for
this, but he had about as much to do today as he had clothes to do it in. He
threw together toast, scrambled eggs, and thick bacon, catching more than a few
tiny drops of spattering hot grease on his naked chest and stomach along the
way. It wasn’t as if he had an apron. Even if he did, Kevin doubted he would go
so far as to wear an apron with his naked ass hanging free in the back. Not
without someone to impress or at least amuse, anyway.

He
ate naked, too, sitting at his small dining nook table wondering what he was
supposed to do with himself today. Well, he could do
that
with himself,
of course, but what about the rest of the day? Obviously he wouldn’t be hitting
the gym.

Kevin
tried to at least knock out some naked calisthenics. Stretches were no problem.
Sit-ups were fine. Push-ups were a little weird, what with his dangling junk
hitting the floor again and again, but whatever. He realized, finishing up his
reps, that jumping jacks were right out.

He
showered and shaved, taking his time with both, though he wondered why he
bothered with the latter. It seemed like something to do. Drying off with only
hand towels was a bit of a pain, but he didn’t feel like dripping dry.

He
straightened up the living room. Unloaded the dishwasher. Cleaned up after
breakfast. Stood and stared at his home again. Naked.

“Fine,”
he said to no one in particular, and then to the cat who sat on the couch
staring at him, “fine!” He stomped over to the couch, picked up his Playstation
controller and fired up the console. “Whatever.”

He
remembered, then, that the console connected his television to the internet. He
could get email after all, at least… but then what? Email Tyrone and ask him to
bring over some clothes and have to explain this? Or one of his other friends?
Send a nastygram to Molly and give her even more of a laugh than she was
already having?

Kevin
stared at the screen, growled, and kicked the cursor over to his video game.
There were aliens to kill. He could always save the galaxy again.

Naked,
this time.

*   *   *

“So
this guy has the highest record—the highest record, bar none—of use of force of
any cop in the city of Seattle for the last two years running.”

Kevin
wiped away the last of the spots on the stove top, glaring at the old clock-radio
on his counter. “
Somebody’s
gonna have the highest record,” he grumbled.
“That’s kinda how numbers work.”

“Let
that sink in, people: he’s been a cop for all of two years, and in those two
years he’s racked up a higher count of injuries and deaths inflicted on our
citizens than any other cop!”

“Yeah,
and I go home and open a beer and celebrate it every day. Naked.”

“And
now we’ve got two more dead at his hands. Two suspects out of five, right? The
cops believe there are five guys in this home invasion murder-robbery ring, but
now they don’t have anyone to question, because Officer Murray has to go off
and shoot both of them!”

“Oh,
fuck you!” Kevin snorted, glaring at the radio. Attila hopped up on the
counter. “No, not you, buddy.”

“You
know what he did on his first night on patrol?”

“Watched
my training officer get his car stolen by high school kids while serving a
noise complaint at their party?” Kevin asked over the rhetorical answer of the
other guy on the radio.

“No!
No, he punches out this woman in a nightclub, one Cassie McClintock—”

“After
she stabbed me with a four-inch knife!” Kevin said, throwing the sponge over
his shoulder. “Jesus, I wasn’t even talking to her when it happened!”

“So,
why’s he still out on the streets?” asked the program host.

“Technically
he’s not right now,” pointed out another, more reasonable guest. “He’s on
administrative leave after yesterday’s shooting.”

“They
do that to give everyone time to circle the wagons and protect each other,”
said the first guest. “They did it with Sergeant Machado—”

“Actual
douchebag,” muttered Kevin.

“—Officer
Levy—”

“Racist
douchebag,” Kevin nodded.

“—who
didn’t shoot anyone, but the arrest was still considered violent enough to
warrant a similar response, and they did it after that pursuit that led to a
fatal crash involving Officer Fenwick.”

“Reckless,
racist douchebag,” said Kevin to the radio. “Those are all bad cops! Why are
you lumping me in with them?”

“But
we should point out,” said the host, “in Murray’s case, or cases, all of his shootings
have been against armed suspects who fired other shots. The department released
dashboard cameras and other video.”

“Yes!”
agreed Kevin. “And there’s video this time, too! And witnesses!”

“They
haven’t released it this time.”

“Argh!
It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours!”

“But
just for the sake of argument, let’s say this time, once again, the suspects
were armed and they did shoot at him as reported. Even so, with three shootings
in two years and these other incidents, doesn’t that say something about his
practices? Doesn’t that leave us to question the approach that gets him into
these situations? Why are all these people attacking this one cop?”