Page 49 of Kill Me Again: Psychics

“An hour might be optimistic,” I admitted. “You have to remember the age difference. Physically,” I added quickly before he could correct me. “We might be the same age mentally, but my body’s been busy ageing while you were…”

“Flouncing around being dead?”

“Something like that.”

“Two hours?”

I laughed. “An hour and a half.”

Baxter turned his head to make sure I’d see his smile. “Works for me.”

Noise drifted from the corridor—someone staggering back to their room. It grew louder and then cut off with the slam of a door. “How are you feeling?” I asked.

“About what just happened? Or life in general?”

“Both.”

“Zero complaints about the sex.”

“And life?”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about today.”

“Happy, maybe,” I suggested. “Or at least relieved that he’s locked up and can’t hurt you again.”

“Yeah…”

He didn’t sound convinced. When a phone started ringing, Baxter reached for his discarded trousers. He fished out his phone and stared at the screen as it kept ringing.

“Not someone you want to talk to?” I asked.

“Unknown number.”

“Well,” I said, “you can either answer it or ignore it.”

He answered. After only a few seconds, a slight frown creased his brow. “Must have been a wrong number. They hung up.”