The End Of Desire: A Rowan Gant Investigation Read Online Free

then twisted the cap
from it and took a swig. Wandering back around to the end of the
bed, I rooted through my carry-on and extracted a container of
aspirin. Popping the cap, I poured some into my palm, nudged the
excess back into the neck of the bottle, then tilted it and allowed
a couple of them to fall back into the pile again. I didn’t count
them so much as look at the size of the heap resting in my hand to
judge the self-prescribed dosage accordingly.
    The exercise was probably futile in and of
itself. I knew the pain in my head wasn’t one that could be
remedied with over-the-counter medications—or prescription drugs
either for that matter. It was born of an ethereal source and for
the most part would remain staunchly unaffected by the
pharmaceuticals of the mundane world.
    I also knew my stomach was going to hate
me—fact is, it already did since I’d been more or less living on
the bitter analgesic and coffee for close to a week. Now that I
thought about it, I would probably need to avoid any serious
injuries as well, lest I bleed out, given the amount of salicylate
coursing through my system and thinning my blood. Still, aspirin
itself seemed to be the only thing that would at least take the
edge off, and I had to do something in that respect. Right now my
head was pounding just as it had been ever since the plane touched
down. Actually, it had been for the past few weeks, but arriving
here had made it thud even harder. If I was going to stem my
exhaustion, I was going to need to dull the pain enough to get some
sleep. Something else of which I was severely lacking.
    Of course, that might not even be possible
with the continuous traffic next door. I suppose I should be
grateful that this room was at the end of the complex. Otherwise
there was no doubt in my mind that the strictly adult soundtrack
would have been in stereo.
    I popped the handful of pills into my mouth,
gave them a quick chew and then took a swig of water and swished
them around before swallowing. My hope was to get them into my
system a bit faster than they would by simply swallowing them
whole. The acrid bitterness caused my mouth to pucker
involuntarily, so I took a fresh pull from the water bottle and
swished again, trying to rinse the residue if not the taste from my
tongue.
    Replacing the cap, I regarded the drink
silently and wondered to myself if I should have picked up a bottle
or two of antacid to use as a chaser instead. I didn’t get much
time to ponder the thought, however, as my cell phone began to
trill, softly at first then ramping up in volume as it continued
its quest for my attention.
    Turning, I wandered back to the dumpster
refugee that was masquerading as the side table and scooped the
device from its surface, making the piece of furniture rock yet
again. Glancing quickly at the incoming number on the LCD, I
flipped open the phone and put it up to my ear.
    “Yeah, Ben,” I grunted.
    “Your goddamn finger broken?” he replied,
more annoyance than concern bolding his words.
    “Do what?”
    “You were s’posed ta’ call when ya’ got
there. I been sittin’ here waitin’ all friggin’ night.”
    I glanced at my watch again. It was
definitely after midnight, so I couldn’t logically dispute what
he’d just said, on either count. Technically it was morning, and
besides, he was correct. I had in fact made that very promise.
    “Oh, yeah,” I replied as I reached up and
rubbed my forehead. “Sorry about that.”
    “Yeah, well, ya’ oughta be,” he
countered.
    “I’m a grownup, Ben. I can ride an airplane
all by myself. I’ve done it several times, believe it or not.”
    “Don’t be an ass, Row. That’s not what I’m
talkin’ about. It’s not like this is a normal trip, an’ you know
it.”
    He was correct yet again. There’s very little
one can consider normal about catching a last minute flight bound
for a distant city to go in search of a serial killer. Especially
one who has most likely been dead