Barclay, Linwood Novel 08 - Never saw it coming

garbage? Who’s going to call the cops for that? It’s a couple of pizza guys. Don’t worry about it.”
    Keisha was
very
worried. What if they made a note of the license number of her car?
    She asked, “So where did you end up putting the bag?”
    “Okay, so here’s the thing,” Kirk said. “When that shithead started coming at me with the pipe, I had to take off, right then. So I left the bag there.”
    “You left it there? Where they’d seen you?”
    “That guy would have killed me with that pipe,” Kirk said.
    Keisha was wishing he had. “Tell me you at least got the bag way in there before all this happened. I mean, nobody’s going to want to go into a Dumpster after a specific bag. Not after you’re gone.”
    Kirk made a funny face and ran his hand over his chin. “Well, I’d agree with you on that if that was the way it happened. But I never actually got the bag into the Dumpster.”
    “What?”
    “I had to leave it on the ground. When that guy started coming after me. Asshole would have busted my head open.”
    Was the floor tilting? Were they in the middle of an earthquake? Things seemed to be swaying to Keisha. “You’re telling me you left it there? Right there?
In front of them
? Shit, why didn’t you just empty the bag out so they could get a real good look? What the hell were you—”
    I’ve had just about enough of this, he thought.
    He exploded, throwing her up against the wall so hard it knocked the wind out of her. He wrapped his right hand around her throat, pinning her head to the wall, squeezing her right where the pink sash had bit into her skin.
    “I am sick and tired of you criticizing me,” he said through gritted teeth. “I am trying to help you out here and getting no thanks in return and it’s starting to get on my nerves.”
    “Let . . . go . . . Can’t . . .”
    Keisha raised her leg, tried to knee Kirk in the groin. He jumped back, let go of her neck. Keisha doubled over, coughed several times.
    “I’m not taking any more shit from you,” he told her, jabbing his finger in her direction. “I’ve been helping you out here, helping you raise that kid, looking out for you, and you don’t give me an ounce of respect.”
    Even as she coughed, Keisha managed to laugh. “Yeah, you’re invaluable,” she said. “You’re just fucking indispensable.”
    He pointed that menacing finger right at her face, only inches from the end of her nose. “That’s just what I’m talking about! Attitude! How’s that li’l fucker of yours going to show me any respect when his mother doesn’t?”
    “You call him a name like that and you want respect?” she said, getting her wind back. “He sees you sitting around here all day, milking a hurt foot for all it’s worth. I haven’t seen you limp once today.”
    “Not gonna be able to cover up your crime spree fast enough if I have to drag my leg everywhere I go,” he shot back. “Fact is, you’d be nothing without me. You’d have been screwed today, that’s for sure. You need a man around the house.”
    “That’d be nice,” she said. “You know where I could find one?”
    He lunged again, but before he could get his hands on her, she clawed his face. Raked her right hand down his left cheek, drawing blood.
    “Motherfucker!” he said, jumping back. He put his hand to his cheek, looked at the blood on his palm. “Have you lost your mind?”
    “You have to go back,” Keisha said.
    “Huh?”
    “You have to go back and get that bag.”
    He shook his head. “No way.”
    She kept her voice low, so he’d have to listen. “If they open that bag and see what’s inside, and remember my car, we’re toast. You get that?”
    Kirk grinned stupidly. “Not me, baby. You’re the one whose ass is gonna fry.”
    “You think so? Wasn’t me driving, wasn’t me trying to get rid of evidence.”
    He looked at her, thinking it through, the grin fading. It took a few seconds. Like trying to explain the second law of thermonuclear dynamics to a pit bull, Keisha thought. “Shit,” he said finally.
    “You gotta get that bag. You gotta find out if they threw it in the Dumpster. And if they did, you gotta get rid of it someplace else.”
    “Oh, man,” he said, almost pitiably. “I can’t go back there.”
    “You
have
to,” Keisha said. God, what a day and it was barely half over.
    “Okay, okay,” he said, accepting, at last, what he was going to have to do.
    Should she tell him about the other problem? He