Devil's Advocate

Angelique had wondered in passing if you dream after you die when she was younger, back when being one of the dark and dreary kids was a fad. She had even written a few crappy poems about the way dreaming would be different, or how artistic dying is. Looking back on herself from those days she couldn’t help but cringe. Now, however, she finally had an answer to the question. You don’t dream when you die, or at least she didn’t. It was almost like being a computer, turning off and then rebooting again, knowing nothing in the in between besides the dark. However, when she powered back on as it were, Angelique immediately noticed there was something wrong. The bed she was laying on was different, softer than the one she remembered. And there was a different smell, something more masculine than she had in her apartment. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

The room was white and bright, sunlight blaring harshly through a large window. For a brief moment she thought she was in a hospital. Why would she be there? The last thing she could remember was running into Kenneth…suddenly it all hit her like a train. Meeting up with Scott, shooting him, missing, getting stabbed. Angelique felt herself panic. Didn’t she tell Kenneth no, not to take her to a hospital? Did he listen? She sat up quickly, startling when she heard Kenneth’s voice from the side of the room.

“Easy. You’re ok.” He soothed her, standing out of his comfy looking chair with his hands up as though she were a wild animal. She took a deep breath, looking around. She was in a bedroom, dresser with a tv mounted above it along one wall, armchair and a nightstand along the wall with the bed. Big window to the left, door that led to what looked like a hallway to the right. She looked back at Kenneth.

“Where…are we?” her voice was raspy, as though it hadn’t been used in a while. How long was she out?

“Three days.” Kenneth answered. Angelique startled, did she ask that aloud? He continued, “And this is my house. I brought you here after Scott stabbed you.” He looked troubled. Angelique nodded; seeing someone get stabbed was probably very traumatic. She stood shakily to her feet, noticing she was wearing a large t shirt and sweat pants that were not hers. She raised her eyebrows at him. He gave her a sheepish grin.

“Ok, so I didn’t see anything but your underwear. And I wasn’t trying to look! I just thought you’d be more comfortable in something not bloody clothes.” He rushed the explanation, even flinching away a bit as though he anticipated her either throwing something or slapping him. She could tell she surprised him when she smiled.

“Thank you for that. I appreciate it.” She lifted the shirt and noticed a jarring scar across her chest. Ugh. Being dead and self-healing didn’t mean lacking horrible scarring. That was good to know. She felt the area around the scar, amazed that there wasn’t even any tenderness around the wound. Not bad for what would have surely been fatal otherwise.

“So how can you do that?” Kenneth’s soft voice pulled her back to the situation. She shrugged.

“I’m honestly not sure.”

“You don’t have a lot of answers, do you?” His tone took on that of a spoiled child. She laughed.

“No. I guess I don’t. Funny, isn’t it?” she answered him. He looked at her, confused.

“Funny?”

“Yeah.” She said with another laugh. “When you’re alive, you don’t have any answers for those big questions like you wish you did. But I’m dead, and I still don’t have any answers. I’m just as clueless as everyone else and I have the supposed advantage.” Kenneth paused to digest her words, then laughed with her for a minute, shaking his head. Angelique calmed first, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes with a sigh.

“So,” she was dreading asking, but she had to know. “What happened to Scott?” Kenneth calmed almost immediately, his eyes dark.

“He’s in the wind. Naturally. You did try to shoot him after all.”

“I didn’t try. I succeeded. He was wounded.”

“He was?” Kenneth stood now, stepping forward. Angelique thought back on that night to be sure. Yeah, she had definitely hit him. It wasn’t a fatal shot by any means but he was hit. She nodded.

“Yeah, I got him. Where’s my laptop bag?”

“You’re not calling in your favor, are you?” Kenneth asked, moving towards the hallway. Angelique followed him down the hall that opened up to a very modest living room. Images that paid homage to the show Star Wars hung in frames on the walls, and a gaming system was hooked up to the tv that sat in front of two Lazy Boy recliners. Angelique shot him another look, which he shot right back.

“Stop it.” He told her, his tone light and playful. He handed her the bag that he took out of one of the chairs, giving her a wry grin. “I am a bachelor after all.”

“Yes, I can tell.” She said it flatly, but there was humor shining in her eyes. She pulled the file out of the bag, flipping to the end and sitting down in the chair her bag vacated. Kenneth took the seat next to her, watching her intently. After a moment she found what she was looking for and let out a whoop of excitement. Perfect. She pulled out the page and showed it to Kenneth, who took it silently.

“I got him better than I thought. He went to the hospital.”

“Metal fragments in his arm.” Kenneth looked up at Angelique with a look of both horror and amazement. “What kind of bullets were those?”

“Hollow point.” She said with a casual shrug. “I bought them on accident.”

“You bought hollow point bullets by accident?” He was incredulous. Angelique crossed her arms defensively.

“Well, I didn’t know what they would do! I bought the gun and only used it when I got my conceal carry license!” Kenneth looked like he was desperately trying to not laugh. Angelique leaned over and smacked his arm. He dissolved into chuckles as he jumped back slightly from her feeble attack. She grinned.

“Alright. Alright. I get it. I’m a derp who knows nothing about purchasing bullets.” She said, snatching the page back. “But look. He ended up at the big hospital downtown. Lied about what happened, got some stitches and some pain killers, and he was sent home.” Angelique took out her notebook, writing down the name of the hospital.

“What are you doing?”

“Do you have a computer?” she was blatantly ignoring him now, standing to her feet. He rolled his eyes and gestured for her to sit back down, which she did. Leaving the room he came back with a laptop, handing it to her.

“No password, Wi-Fi is already connected.” He told her as she opened it up and got comfortable. She shot him a look like he’s crazy.

“What would you do if it got stolen or pawned or something?” she mused, typing the name of the hospital into the search box. It was obvious she was trying to bait him, so Kenneth elected to not rise to the occasion. Less than a minute later she had an address, which she took down. Kenneth stood behind her while she did her search.

“You know I have google maps, right?”

“Yes.” She told him, writing down driving directions. “But I’m old fashioned. You don’t have access to Scott’s medical records, right?”

“I doubt it.” He answered. “We were estranged for a long while. I couldn’t fathom that I am still his emergency contact.”

“And you don’t have his address do you?”

“That’s a negative. Lost track of that a long time ago. I’m positive he’s moved at least a few times since the last time I was at his house. That was his M.O. for a long while, moving at least once a year.”

“Hmm.” Angelique thought for a moment. She wanted those medical records, not for any other reason other than that address. She held out her hand.

“May I borrow your phone?” she asked. Kenneth unlocked it and handed it to her. She dialed the hospital, waiting patiently until someone answered the phone.

“Yes, ma’am. My brother-in-law was just admitted a few days ago to the hospital due to some sort of metal in his arm? Yes. No, I know you can’t give me information over the phone. I was just wondering. If my husband, his brother, came in with Scott’s social security number or something, can we get a copy of his records? He would come in himself but the pain killers make him feel all funny, and he needs a copy of those for a lawyer to look over.” She paused, and then grinned. “Perfect! Thank you so much!” She hung up and handed the phone back to Kenneth. “If we show up with his birthdate, social security number, and driver’s license number, she’ll release the records to us.”

“Great.” Kenneth threw his hands in the air. “I know his birthday, but where am I going to get his driver’s license number or his social?” Angelique held up her file.

“From my frustratingly limited but suddenly useful plot device.” She answered with a grin. Kenneth laughed.

They headed off to the hospital, using Kenneth’s map app despite Angelique writing out the turn by turn directions. He ignored her scowl as he typed in the address and took off. Angelique stared out the window as the annoying, inflectionless voice of the GPS told Kenneth which way to go. She tried not to clench her teeth at the aggravating sounds. Angelique jumped out of the car almost as soon as Kenneth parked, her excitement getting the better of her. They were going to get him this time. She waited as patiently as she could while Kenneth got out, with her notebook in his hand. He put his arm around her as they walked up to the door. She glanced at him in question. He smirked.

“You were the one who claimed to be my wife.” He said. She shrugged, but kept his arm where it was, which made Kenneth chuckle. Angelique waited off in the waiting room while he charmed the receptionist. Which, she would give him credit, he did very well. A few over exaggerated giggle fits and a half glance at the notebook in his hands, and he was walking out with a folder. Angelique followed him with a grin.

“That was impressive.” She said. He shrugged, but at looked embarrassed.

“Eh. It’s nothing. It’s one of those fake it til you make it things. Fake the confidence and it’ll take you places.” He opened her car door as though he wasn’t even thinking about it and then walked around, sliding smoothly into the driver’s seat. Angelique climbed in and got settled, flipping open the folder. His contact information was on the first page. Angelique rattled off the address as Kenneth put it into that god awful machine. He smiled at her look of frustration and took off.

Fifteen minutes and many irritated grumbles from the passenger seat, they pulled into an apartment complex. Angelique raised her eyebrows, looking at Kenneth.

“This is the place?” she asked. He shrugged.

“This is where the GPS says he lives. That doesn’t mean it is.” He answered, parking. They stepped out of the car and walked into the office. It was fairly standard looking, with a lovely fireplace in the waiting area, several empty desks scattered around, and soft pop music playing from a speaker that was hanging in the corner. Seemed like a nice enough place.

“Can I help you?” A sweet voice asked. Angelique looked over at her, smiling politely automatically. The voice belonged to a brunette woman, about Angelique’s height, with a grey pencil skirt and a pretty red blouse on, black flats on her feet. Kenneth stepped forward, smiling the same polite smile Angelique was.

“Hello there.” He greeted her. “I was actually looking for my brother, Scott Penn. I wanted to surprise him, I live out of town. Can you tell me what apartment he’s in?” The woman moved to a desk, leaned over the computer and typed in a few things, not even bothering to sit down. She shook her head as she straightened back up.

“I’m very sorry you came all this way,” she answered. “But Mr. Penn moved out 6 months ago.” Angelique fought to keep her face neutral as disappointment and frustration swept through her. Kenneth sighed, but kept his face and tone pleasant.

“Darn it. Any chance you have a forwarding address?” She shook her head again.

“No, I’m afraid not.” She looked like she didn’t buy their story, but she also looked like she was telling the truth. She didn’t know where he was. Kenneth thanked her and they walked back out to the truck. Angelique got settled in, buckling her seatbelt before she swore softly, letting herself express her frustration for a moment.

“Hey now.” Kenneth said, climbing in next to her. “We’ll find him.”

“How? This was a dead end. And the only lead we had. Now what do we do?”

“Now?” Kenneth started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. “We go home. Have some dinner. And think of a new plan. We will figure this out.” Angelique wished she was as sure as he was. But she just wasn’t. She wasn’t sure about anything. She wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing, she wasn’t sure she could save her soul. She wasn’t sure she had what it took in the end to actually kill Scott. She screwed it up once, what was going to stop her from screwing it up again? And Kenneth. Poor Kenneth was just getting dragged down with her. Angelique wanted to cry, to scream, to hit something and let out all of this doubt and frustration. But she didn’t. Instead she looked out the window, holding onto Kenneth’s optimism and pretended she believed it. Beside her, Kenneth was trying to do the same.