Shutter(75)

My head throbbed. I pressed my hand against the gushing hole in my thigh, but the blood was coming out in pulses. I could feel myself fading.

This was it. This was my end. I was going to die on the floor surrounded by drug dealers, crooked cops, and cartel lieutenants.

As I drifted from life, my weightless, painless body hovered high above the room. I could see why people would surrender to death. That was the best thing, the painlessness. My leg, my head, and every part of my body felt soft. An untouchable warmth enveloped me. It was the smell of my grandmother’s house, the sound of my mother’s laughter, the sight of my cousin Gloria’s smile. I willed my way toward that light and warmth. I was ready to not be a part of this world anymore.

My body jerked upward, the pain returning the instant I took a breath. I could hear and feel the EMTs working on me, their hands on my body, shining their lights in my eyes.

I don’t know what I thought—maybe that if I kept my eyes closed, I wouldn’t have to face the reality of being back in this world. When I finally opened my eyes, I could see all the dead men in that room, watching themselves drift from life just as I had moments before.

Garcia screamed at the men working on his chest. The more they pushed, the more blood gathered on the floor. Garcia was dead. He looked up from his corpse to find me staring at him from the gurney. He was in my face in an instant. “What makes you think you’re going anywhere, you bitch?”

His cold arm reached inside of me. I could feel Garcia’s grip on me, a vice of hate. I was beginning to drift away again.

That’s when I saw Erma. She pulled Garcia’s soul from me like a slab of tar. She lit up that upholstery shop so brightly that it burned Garcia into the white. Erma reached down and grabbed my hand as a flood of souls swarmed past her and into the light. When the last one had moved through, she let go. I wanted to go with her. I wanted to feel that warmth.

Instead, I felt metal on my chest and a jolt that shook through it like liquid light. Adrenaline. Going back into my body was a slap, a quick and magnetic pull.

I was alive. I was alive because Erma wanted me to be, because somewhere on this planet people were praying for me. Even if I didn’t want to believe it.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

f/2.8

I HAD BEEN in the hospital for four days before I opened my eyes again. Machines murmured and beeped in the room. The open window showed the world as it was, moving onward just as it had before. A sting and ache in my left leg brought me back to what had happened. I barely remembered it all, but I knew Garcia was dead.

I looked around the room, half expecting Erma to offer some of her witty banter or scream at me to get out of my bed. But there was no one but me.

No—I spoke too soon.

A nurse in cartoon-covered scrubs pushed open the door, calling out a cheerful “good morning” as she pulled back the blankets on my bed. “The leg is doing great. You’re a lucky girl. Not everyone survives a shot to the leg like that. Just missed an artery.” She wrote furiously on some paperwork. “I’ll let your family know that you’re awake. They’ve been here waiting for days. Your department chief asked me to call when you woke up, so I hope you don’t mind if I let them know.”

“No need.” Angie was standing at the door.

“Angie.” My voice was weak and raspy.

“Save it, Rita.” She walked over to my bedside. “I don’t know what to say. You tried to tell us.”

“Please tell me he’s gone.” I could feel the fear in my throat even though I had seen his soul being sucked out of the world.

“He’s gone, Rita.” Angie squeezed my hand. “We reinstated you while you were out. You know, for the insurance.” She laughed. “Remember what I told you. It’s okay to quit. Don’t think you have to come back to this if you don’t want to.”

I stayed silent.

“I’ll leave that up to you.” She smiled at me. “Lieutenant Declan is probably going to want to talk to you too. He’s closing up the case.” There was a long pause. “Your work had everything to do with that.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” I admitted. Everyone was dead.

Grandma was already at the door with Mr. Bitsilly, and before I knew it, they were by my bedside, hugging me.

“We’ll talk more later, Rita.” Angie shook hands with Grandma and Mr. Bitsilly on her way out.

“Are you two okay? How long have you been here?”

“Just long enough,” Mr. Bitsilly said. Grandma was quiet, tears in her eyes. “I hope that this is it. You’ve solved the case. The spirits are gone. It’s time to stop. If—”

“I know, Mr. Bitsilly. If I let them in, they’ll never leave me alone. Erma is gone. I was here to get her justice. And she got it.” I smiled at them both. “She’s on her journey now.”

“Are you still seeing them?” Grandma broke her silence, a quiver in her voice.

“Not anymore, Grandma.” I held her hand.

“Your two friends are good friends. They’re helping clean up your apartment.” Grandma tried her best to tame my sticky, unwashed hair. “I was hoping you would come home.”

“We were hoping you would stop doing this job. Stop letting this evil into your life.” Mr. Bitsilly handed me my tádídíín bag. It had been tied to a string on my window shades, untouched for quite some time, and he knew it.