Page 97 of Slow Burn

The truck made a deafening skull-grinding beeping noise. Julian looked up, startled, just as the first wave of sand spilled out.

It didn’t seem like much until the second wave hit, deep enough to come up to Julian’s knees, deep enough to cover Velvet’s head. She clawed her way to a sitting position and tried to get up. The sand dragged like little hands.

The third wave knocked her flat. She tried to scream, but sand was everywhere, in her mouth, her nose, a dusty flat smell in the back of her throat. The weight crushed her.

Her good hand clawed for the surface and found cold air.

Found warm skin. She grabbed on and pulled blindly.

It was Robby’s elbow she’d grabbed. Velvet spat sand and gagged and blinked enough to see Robby sitting spread-eagled on top of the sandpile, naked except for a thin pair of panties, hands still cuffed behind her.

“What—” Velvet choked and coughed, sand spraying in ripples under her chin. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Pulled every lever I could find,” Robby said. She looked dazed and apologetic. “I couldn’t get the gun. I tried.”

A man’s foot, still in an expensive leather shoe, poked out of the sand near Velvet’s face. It trembled two or three times, then went still.

“Honey,” Velvet whispered, “you did just fine. Just fine.”

With another tug on Robby’s arm, she dragged herself out of the sand and gave the woman a big long one-armed hug, never mind the red lacy rash all over Robby’s body. Pain had made her strangely happy. Velvet found her coat near the truck and draped it back over Robby’s shoulders and hugged her close for warmth, rocking a little.

The sleet kept coming, steady knives of ice. It didn’t matter anymore.

They were still sitting there when the Highway Department supervisor pulled his truck into the lot and said, “That your Mercedes out there on the street?”

Robby laughed. Velvet hugged her closer with her good arm and said, “Absolutely.”

Chapter Forty-four

Martin

Strangely enough, when he saw the line go flat on Sally’s monitor, he didn’t feel grief at all, only sadness. He stood while the nurses silently disconnected the monitors and the tubes and left him with her wasted little body.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, and touched her skin. She still felt warm, still felt alive. She’d been dead for years, but she’d alwaysfeltalive. “Daddy’s so sorry.”

He found he didn’t want to cry, but he held her limp light hand for a while and watched the sun set behind clouds. The nurses stayed out of his way. When the sun was down, he put her hand back at her side and pulled the sheet over her face. She looked smaller than he remembered.

“Martin?” Adrian Carling’s whisper was silk. He didn’t turn to look at her, or betray any surprise that she’d come to see him.

It had been two weeks since he’d woken up in the hospital to find that she’d been moved to another, more secure facility. One week since he’d received an arrangement of yellow roses and a card that saidBe patient, Marty.He’d been patient. He’d had no choice.

“She’s gone.” It was the only thing he had to say, really. The only thing that meant anything.

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and stood up. Carling looked pale and thin, but she was okay, getting physically stronger every day. Of course, she’d always been strong in spirit. Not like him.

“Do you want me to help with the arrangements?” she asked.

“What? Oh, no, I made them years ago. They kept thinking … it was just a matter of days. But she hung on. She was strong.” He met her eyes. “All I have to do is sign a form.”

“Will you be okay?” she asked. He noticed she did not ask,Are you okay, she knew the answer to that.

“I think so.” He sucked in a breath deep enough to ease the tension in his chest. “I’ve been patient.”

“I know. Thank you.”

God, so much to say, but he couldn’t think of any of it. He settled for information. “Any word on the two women who killed Ed Julian?”

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