Pietro was silent for a moment. “I am very old,” he finally said. He looked up at Marcus. “Far older than you suspect, I am certain,” he told Marcus. His gaze shifted to me for a fraction of a second, but in that instant it was as if he dropped a veil. Suddenly I could feel the immense weight of years and experiences and accumulated triumphs and grief. Then he looked away and the sensation was gone.
This dude has been a zombie a helluva lot longer than thirty years, I realized.
“Over the years I have been careful to cultivate influence,” he continued. “Kristi was right to be wary of my anger, and I’m certain that she was careful not to ‘cross the line,’ so to speak, until she was positioned with influence that she hopes can match mine.”
I kept the icy look on my face and didn’t respond.
He let out a soft sigh. “Yet having experience and influence has not saved me from doing some colossally foolish things.” He met my eyes again, but I didn’t get the “holy crap, he’s been around a long time” vibe this time, to my relief.
“I behaved utterly heinously to you,” he said. Then his mouth twisted in a grimace. “Marcus has expressed his displeasure quite vehemently.” He paused. “Quite vehemently. But he has stated that his forgiveness of me is entirely conditional on you, and whether you can accept my apology.”
Well, whaddya know. Marcus was letting me control my own damn life. I slid a look toward him, but he was doing that stony-impossible-to-read face thing. He was so damn cute when he did that.
“I’m a lot like my dad,” I said to Pietro. “I can hold a grudge like nobody’s business. And as much as it would be great and awesome for everyone to forgive each other, and we all have a big group-fucking-hug, I can’t tell you I forgive you until I actually feel it and believe that you really do regret what happened and that you’re not just blowing smoke up my ass.”
The barest hint of a smile curved the edge of Pietro’s mouth and he gave a grave nod. “That seems eminently fair.” He turned his attention to Ed.
Ed held up his hand before Pietro could speak. “We’ll talk later,” he said, eyes dark and haunted.
“Of course,” Pietro replied, subdued.
“So, um, here’s what I don’t quite get,” I said, eager to bust up the sudden weird tension. “How did she get the head of security at the lab to do all of her dirty work, including killing several people? And why didn’t she simply get McKinney to get the zombie heads she needed?”
“I did some research on him after he snatched you,” Ed said. “With the help of Pietro I found out that his real name is William Rook and he’s, well, like an evil Jason Bourne-type. Super spy, assassin, mercenary type of dude, rumored to be involved in any number of covert government operations. In other words, he pretty much specializes in doing the dirty work.” He paused as the waitress came by to refill coffees. We all gave her friendly smiles, then immediately leaned in close again as soon as she walked off. “And Dr. Kristi Charish hired him less than a month ago. After she was able to prove that her zombie soldier concept had some merit.”
“Oh, I get it,” I said. “He wasn’t doing her dirty work. He was keeping an eye on her and doing what was needed for this whole government conspiracy zombie project thing.”
“Correct,” Pietro said. “He is a very dangerous man.” A pained look flashed over his face. “I wish I’d thought to have him checked out sooner, but Kristi assured me that she’d investigated him thoroughly and that I could trust him.” He didn’t say more, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Pietro had used McKinney for some dirty work of his own.
“Yeah, well I ate his brain.” I leaned back and laced my fingers behind my head. “Motherfucker shot me. I couldn’t let that shit slide.” I killed a man. Shouldn’t it bother me more than this? Yeah, sure, he was a really bad man, but still…
I straightened abruptly. “Shit. What day is it?”
Marcus tipped his wrist to look at his watch. “Well, in about an hour it’ll be Tuesday.”
“Oh, whew,” I slumped back in relief. “I didn’t miss it.”
“Didn’t miss what?” he asked.
I gave a rueful smile. “My meeting with my probation officer.”
Ed snorted. “Seriously? You’ve just survived a secret government zombie lab and that’s what you’re worried about?”
“Exactly!” I shot back. “I just survived a secret government zombie lab, so it would suck pretty damn hard to go through all that and then end up back in jail because I missed a simple meeting, right?”
He blinked. “I can’t argue with that.”
“Don’t, man,” Marcus said fervently. “Don’t argue with her. It’s much better that way.”
I smiled and sipped my coffee.
Chapter 30
And then Marcus took me home. My dad and Ed had retrieved my car and someone had paid to replace the tires. Considering that the old tires had been dangerously bald, I was pretty pleased at how that worked out. I suspected Pietro had something to do with it, since I knew my dad didn’t have that kind of money. Also, miraculously, my purse and its contents were still in the car, which saved me a buttload of hassle.
Dad gave me such a long embrace that I wasn’t sure he was ever going to let me go. I didn’t mind.
“Someday you’ll tell me what that was all about, right, baby?” he muttered, voice rough.
I gulped and nodded. “I will. I promise.”
He finally released me and gave me a wavering smile, then lifted his head and looked to Marcus. “Thank you for keeping her safe and bringing her back.”
“She kept herself safe, Mr. Crawford,” he replied. “She’s a tough chick. All I did was give her a ride.”
“Yep,” I said as I rummaged through my purse to make sure everything was really there. “Just call me the Angel of Kicking Ass.” I gave him a wink.
My phone was dead, but as soon as I plugged it in it lit up like a Christmas tree with missed calls and text messages—almost all from Derrel, with the others from Nick and Monica. I skimmed through the text messages, confusion growing. From Derrel I had: Call me. And: Where are you? You need to watch the news. And: Call me! Where the hell are you? From Monica simply: Yay! I’m so happy for you! Then, from Nick: You’re late for work. And finally, from Derrel again: I’m going to kill you if you don’t call me!
The last text message from Derrel was from only twenty minutes ago, so I went ahead and called him back.
He answered with, “Don’t you ever check your messages?”
“Um, I’ve been a little busy. I was sorta out of town. What’s going on?”
“You need to watch the press conference Dr. Duplessis gave yesterday. It was on channel five news and it’s on their website.”
I started to remind him that I didn’t have a computer at the house, then spun to Marcus. “You have a smart phone, right?” At his nod I told him, “Derrel says I need to watch the coroner’s press conference from yesterday on channel five news.”
“Okay,” I said to Derrel after Marcus pulled up the video and started it. “I’m watching it…Wait. What the hell?”
Derrel chuckled. “Keep watching.”
Dr. Duplessis was standing in the conference room behind a lectern, still wearing the damn bowtie.
“When Angel Crawford was nineteen years old she made a mistake—an error in judgment. No one was hurt, and any damage to property was minimal. In due order she was brought before a judge where she received a suspended sentence and probation.
“Our justice system is intended to rehabilitate offenders, and if we do not allow these people who wish to improve themselves the opportunity to do so, then we have failed them and failed ourselves as a society.