He was dying. Bleeding out in this filthy alley. He’d heard it said that when a man died, his life flashed before him and a bright light appeared. Lonny’s life wasn’t flashing before him and there sure as fuck wasn’t any bright light.
His sight was dimming but strangely, his sense of smell heightened. He smelled garbage. Stinking, rotting garbage from the Dumpster beside him. And piss. Someone had pissed nearby, maybe Lonny was lying in it, dying in it right now. Not the end he’d envisioned for himself.
“Corbett!”
Lonny fought to open his eyes. He felt them flutter, then close, flutter then close. Dimly, he registered that it had started to rain.
Rough hands grabbed the two ends of his jacket and yanked him up off the cracked and stained asphalt. Not the hands of the man who’d killed him or Lonny would have spat in his face, if he could have summoned the saliva. Now was his chance to tell who murdered him. Lonny opened his mouth but blood pooled out onto his chin. He couldn’t get his lips to move. He was cold . . . so cold. No, there was no bright light at all. The last thing he saw was darkness.