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Evidence was my paint, crime scenes my canvas. I could find it if I just concentrated. The jungle made quick work of corpses. Broken posts sat atop bent pilings, the collapsed floor half submerged. I tied the boat to a loose beam. Carefully, gingerly, I stepped onto the porch. You know how small the kitchen is, and it was already stifling. On the kitchen table, a large plate held a beautiful cake, half iced. Especially not cake with cream cheese icing and pureed fresh strawberries in the batter. I let myself into my room and climbed onto the stiff mattress with its scratchy comforter. I lay there in the dark for a second, my mind totally blank, my body numb. And then I fell into a black, dreamless sleep.
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