Aston's Story (Vanish #2) Read Online Free Page B

the
man keeps dragging himself around like it was yesterday. Sometimes I feel
guilty, until I realize it’s the way the world works. The meek will never
inherit the Earth. “Is there enough to nail him?”
    His thin lips perk at their edges, threatening to smile.
Somehow, I amused him. “What, like forensic evidence? Not likely. Most murder
cases in Westwood Valley solve off of eyewitness accounts. We don’t have many
people premeditating around here.”
    “Ballistics? Gun powder? Anything?”
    He just shakes his head. I want to swipe at it, but at the
same time, I just want to buy the sad sack a drink. I do, frequently. When he’s
drunk, he likes to talk about when we were young. He was more lively then, but
still just as quiet and unassuming. He wound up on the force by way of
suggestion as opposed to the perceived obligation of duty. It’s what made him a
good friend all these years, and especially since I started selling. I’m still
at the start line, though. My first package, totally fucking bungled.
    Light flashes over the face, for a moment I think he’s
coming back to life. Then I look behind me at the blinds as they sway, passing
the incoming bars of streetlight over the decrepit residence and slipping along
his dull expression. He’s only dead. I think for a moment what I would look
like after a perfect headshot like that. My shivering hand grows cold and I
squeeze my fingers together to warm it back up.
    “Al,” I say, I guess in contempt, but partly also in awe.
He’s a true beast, I’m coming to realize. I’m facing the abyss of humanity now.
While I embrace the truths found in our shadows, I do believe in ethics. This,
this shit, fuck. The reeking, festering, violent stage sprawled out before me
showcases his depravity and the willingness to commit again. I have to stop him
and prevent any further damage. I have to stop him before he reads my
suspicions as threats and turns his snarling bite on me.
    I feel a pressure nudge against my shoulder. I shake my head
and turn to the side. Nathan’s grinning at me. “Was that it? Did you want to
say something?”
    “Huh?” somehow escapes my lips, like some halfwit. I’m lost
in thought.
    “Al. You said Al. What about him?”
    The rage returns my thinking’s coherency. “He’s screwing
more people over. This must’ve been a bait and switch. He took my drugs to a
low level dealer, but by the time it was going to change hands, he thought he’d
take the money and the drugs. That bastard needs to be stopped.”
    Nathan steps into the room, careful in his steps not to
tamper with potential evidence. Or mostly to avoid piles of trash, and the
corpse. “You’re so convinced. Because you want that bouncer to be this big bad
guy, you can’t help seeing his name all over this.” He pauses on the other side
of the room and hangs his thumbs in the loops of his   blue uniform pants. “You don’t know anything for sure here.”
    I make an emphatic gesture with my hands and raise my voice
for the first time, “Then why’d you call me?” It’s a burst I feel immediately
foolish for, I must be blushing.
    His eyes are full of something condescending, like a
teacher, or a parent, eager to see me learn their lesson. It pisses me off.
“Show you what you’re entering, Aston.”
    “You interrupted a very pleasant evening with Auna,” I say,
before I have time to edit. I shouldn’t have said her name. I shouldn’t utter
it in a place so foul.
    “Ah,” is all he replies. Then, after a length of time, “You
should probably head out, I’ll have to call this in now.”
    “Sure,” I say, turning back towards the door.
    “Knob,” he warns.
    “Thanks,” I say, using the tip of my shoe to wedge into the
open crack and ease the door open. I step out onto the wooden porch and turn my
head over my shoulder. Nathan’s already lifting his radio to his lips. He
pauses when he sees me. We have an exchange, a meeting of stares that display
the men we are. I