From The Mosquito Tapes by Chris Holmes

The case was like a toothache, a nagging pain that wouldn’t go away and wouldn’t get better. Adding to the discomfort was the sense the case was somehow linked to Biologistics and its secret research. But that was only a hunch—I couldn’t prove anything. Had no solid evidence to back it up. Just mosquitoes, blue fibers, and gut feelings.

But I had great faith in my forensic investigators and was confident sooner or later they would turn up something that would break the case wide open. They’d never failed me before.

 

In the meantime, I assuaged my frustration with romance.

Jill and I were at the can’t-keep-hands-off-each-other phase. Past the guarded feelings but not yet to the point where a commitment must be made or the relationship withers. That fork lurked in our future. But for now, we were still caught up in the whirlwind, the newness of each other.

Even when I wasn’t actually with her, she was on my mind, and I found myself thinking about her almost every waking moment, especially at night against a bunched up pillow, keeping the gap-toothed redhead in the morgue at bay. It was clear to anyone with eyes that I was falling more and more in love with the woman, in a hopeless tailspin over her.

One evening when I was home alone, Lilly came over to my chair and began licking my hand. She hadn’t gotten much attention from me lately and needed some now. When I reached down to pet her, she rolled over for her customary belly rub.

“I’m a goner, Lil. A hopeless head case.”

Lilly sighed.

“I’m toast, girl.” I rubbed her neck. “My goose is cooked.”

She ignored my clichés of torment, rolled her head to one side, and lolled out her tongue.

No frustration here!