Passions of the Dead (A Detective Jackson Mystery/Thriller) by L.J. Sellers

owned Pacific Pool & Patio, and Carla could imagine that people were spending less money on backyard luxuries.
    “My business has plummeted in the last two months,” Kevin said, coming out of the sliding glass door. “So if you’re thinking of asking us for money, please don’t. I have employees and health insurance premiums to pay no matter how few hot tubs I sell.”
    A long moment of silence followed. Carla ached for Jared. She could feel his humiliation and she wished she hadn’t pushed him to make the request. “I’m sorry to hear your business is down,” she said to Kevin, giving him an appropriate look of sympathy. “I hope it’s temporary.”
    Jared asked about a basketball game coming up and Carla excused herself. Someone was in the hall bathroom, so she rushed through the master bedroom and into the private bathroom, closing the door behind her. She needed to be alone for a moment. Sitting on the edge of the tub, she pulled in long slow breaths and tried not to cry. Unemployed, broke and pregnant. How could her life have turned to such shit so quickly?
    Without a job, she didn’t even have health insurance. She couldn’t afford to see an obstetrician, let alone a hospital stay. She had to get an abortion. As much as the idea appalled her, she had no choice. By the end of the summer, they could be living out of a van parked on some side street. She couldn’t bring a child into such circumstances. She couldn’t even take care of the kids she had now. How would she pay for an abortion? It would take every dime they had in the bank. Then what?
    Carla took more deep breaths and willed herself to go back out there, smile, and pretend everything was okay. As she crossed the plush-carpeted bedroom, the top shelf of a small bookcase caught her eye. Five baseball cards, each encased in a plastic frame, were proudly displayed. Valuable baseball cards. She’d heard Kevin talking about them. One in particular was worth several thousand dollars. Carla peered at the cards. They seemed rather inconsequential.
    Without thinking she grabbed the card in the middle, stuffed it into her purse, and bolted from the bedroom. Her legs trembled and threatened to collapse as she hurried up the hall. Good God, what had she done? She hadn’t even formed an idea about stealing the card. It just happened.
    Carla stopped in the crossway. She had to put the card back. This was insane.
    “Carla? We’ve got to go!” Jared called to her from the dining room. “I’ll get the kids, while you say goodbye.”
    Carla stood frozen. Their hosts followed Jared into the house. As her husband barreled down the hall calling for the kids, Tracy gave Carla a hug and whispered, “I’m sorry.” Carla squeezed her back, unable to speak.

Chapter 10
     
    Jackson bought coffee on his way back to headquarters, then sat in the small conference room waiting for the other detectives to show up at ten. He expected the taskforce meeting to be brief, unless someone came in with something unexpected.
    Evans showed up first, looking fresh in pressed black slacks and a pale blue jacket. Her face had no visible signs of sleep deprivation. “Morning, Evans. You look great. Still taking that buzz drug when you work cases like this?”
    She flushed a little and rolled her eyes. “Provigil isn’t a buzz drug. You’re just jealous because I have a prescription and you don’t.” She sat and put her oversized black bag on the floor. “Now that you’re seeing a doctor, you could ask him to write you a prescription.”
    That reminded Jackson to take some naproxen. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said, getting up. He hustled into the restroom at the end of the hall and dug the little pill bottle out of his bag. The steroids he’d taken earlier controlled the growth of the fiber and he would cycle on and off the medication, probably for years. The naproxen was an anti-inflammatory that suppressed the pain he was still feeling from having his belly flayed