Last Exit in New Jersey Read Free

yourself straight. If you insist on dressing in the dark, at least check when you’re done.”
    “That’s what I have you for.” He inspected the uneven shirttails and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the T-shirt beneath, which read: “I wouldn’t be so broke if the voices in my head paid rent.”
    Annabel scanned the galley for something she considered edible, and Hammon jotted down BUY MORE FOOD. She paused, turning back in the classic Betty Grable pose. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot. You left it in the snow.”
    “I what?”
    “I don’t know. You said it last night. You told me to remind you. You said it was important.”
    He scratched at his scarred arm. “Snow? In June? I must’ve been dreaming.”
    Annabel sighed the way she did whenever she was about to say something he didn’t want to hear.
    Hammon groaned. He knew where this was going. “And?”
    Another sigh. “You said, and I quote, ‘Make sure I tell Stevenson it’s in the snow.’”
    “Then it was a nightmare,” Hammon said flatly, scratching at his wrist.
    “Stop scratching. Maybe it means something. You could—”
    “—talk to him? Sure. When hell—”
    “—freezes over.” Annabel stared up at the hatch while rain pounded overhead. “So, Otto, why are we up at this awful hour? Four hours’ sleep isn’t nearly enough.”
    Hammon took a deep breath. “I was just thinking…”
    “That’s my job.” She did a series of catlike stretches, derailing his train of thought. “Thinking about what?”
    “I figured maybe we’d—” He hiccupped.
    “—take a walk down to the library?” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Nice try, Otto. We’re in Brielle, it’s raining, and I saw the list. You’re going to ditch me at the library and go to Gary’s.”
    Damn. He really had to remember not to leave his lists lying around. His eyes lingered on the smooth curve of her neck, transfixed. He could watch her for hours. Sometimes he did. But not today; he had things to do.
    “Just for the afternoon. The new freezer’s in.”
    “Admit it. You’re tired of me.”
    “No!” He didn’t have to tell her. But making him sweat was her favorite game.
    Annabel fiddled with her MP3 player. “You don’t want me around anymore.” She slipped on the headphones and danced up to the salon.
    “Annabel.”
    She pointed to the earphones, smiling apologetically as she sang, way off-key, to “My Sharona.”
    “Annabel.”
    Eyes closed, she moved to the music, swaying before him hypnotically. Hammon watched, trying to stay focused as another train of thought crashed and burned.
    “Annabel.”
    She paused, lifting the earphones. “What?”
    Good question. “You know I can’t think when you do that.”
    “Which implies you can when I don’t. Nice try.” She smiled. “It’s okay. Have fun telling Gary why the old freezer’s dead.”
    Oh yeah. Gary.
    The freezer.
    It was raining.
    He was dropping Annabel at the library.
    She never ceased to amaze him. Gary swore she was bad news and Hammon should get rid of her. Gary didn’t understand. Hammon and Annabel had been together for years, starting as fellow inmates in the pediatric ICU. He was dying when he first saw her gazing down at him with the sad serenity of an angel. She stayed beside him, blind to the disfigurement and bandages as he endured ongoing surgeries. She accepted the irreparable damage within his shattered skull even when he couldn’t. She refused to give up on him and wouldn’t let him give up either, no matter how much he tried. Even with a few bad sectors on his hard drive, the critical programs still functioned, and that was fine with her. He didn’t want to consider what she was doing with a mess like him or why she’d stayed all this time. Lifting those rocks would only bring to light some troubling truths about him, her, and their relationship. He knew better than to question why and risk losing her. Without her he would have unraveled years ago.

13:40 SATURDAY, JUNE