Third Grave Dead Ahead Read online

  I pulled back my hand and wrapped the towel around me. “How did you know that?” I thought a moment, then stared in astonishment. “Are you following me?”

  He stepped back to the vanity and crossed his arms over a wide chest. “I thought he was following you.”

  “He is, but it’s not his fault. Garrett’s following orders.”

  “Garrett’s following you,” he said, casting me a glance from underneath his dark lashes. When I pressed my lips together, he acquiesced. “Fine, then whose fault is it?”

  “Yours, actually. Why do you think he’s on my ass? And you show up here? You’re lucky you haven’t been arrested yet.”

  “Your boyfriend’s not out there,” he said, gesturing with a nod of his head. “That other guy’s hardly a threat. He’s asleep in his car.”

  I rolled my eyes. Garrett really needed to screen his applicants better.

  “And what the hell were you thinking, getting into that car?”

  “That was you in the shadows?” I should’ve known. I really should’ve. “Are you just begging to get caught? Because I can call my uncle right now and we can be done with this whole thing in a blink.”

  “I have no intention of getting caught. How was he killed?” he asked, changing the subject midstream.

  “Tragically.” I grabbed another towel to dry my face.

  “Was his throat cut?”

  I froze. How did he know that? “Yes.”

  “With what?” he asked.

  “Probably something really sharp.” When he didn’t respond, I asked, “Is that what he does?” I stepped out of the shower, and Reyes’s gaze wandered to my lower extremities.

  “That’s what he does,” he said without looking up.

  “I thought Earl’s MO was to bash people in the head.”

  “Only when he has an ulterior motive.”

  “He’s tying up loose ends, isn’t he?”

  “Don’t go back there,” he said, lifting a corner of the towel.

  After slapping his hand, I asked, “Where? Corona?”

  He’d grinned when I slapped his hand. “Yes.”

  I took the towel and tried to sop up the dripping water from my hair. “I have to. The sheriff wants to talk to me.”

  He snagged the second towel from me, draped it over my head, and started to rub, his hands kneading, massaging. He moved closer, and I couldn’t help but take hold of the jacket he was wearing. For stability purposes.

  “Don’t go,” he said again, only this time it sounded more like an order.

  “I’ll take it under consideration.”

  “It’s not a suggestion.”

  What was it with men and their belief they could order me around? I pushed back the towel and leveled a hard stare his way, trying to decide if I should clock him. I did owe him one, though I rarely had a steel pipe or an eighteen-wheeler on me when I needed one. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.” I poked his chest with an index finger to emphasize my point.

  He paused, his jaw tensing visibly, but to his credit, he didn’t say anything else. He probably knew payback was a cold hard bitch and ever so slightly overdue.

  “You look tired,” I said, grabbing the towel, “and you need a shower.” I turned and left him standing in the bathroom, the disappointment in my loins palpable. Five minutes later, the shower came on.

  I dressed in a pair of nice jeans, a caramel button-down, and a killer pair of wraparound Dolce & Gabbana pumps with a low heel that looked part boarding school rebel and part naughty librarian. It tickled me to know that Cookie salivated every time she saw them. I had a wicked cruel streak.

  Reyes emerged from the bathroom in wrinkled yet clean clothes and a smooth jaw. His hair hung in wet clumps around his face.

  “Better?” he asked, stuffing his dirty clothes in a knapsack.

  “Yes, but you still look tired.”

  His brows rose playfully. “Have you looked in the mirror?”

  He was right. I looked horrid. Self-induced insomnia was hardly attractive.

  He laughed and surveyed every inch of me. After dropping the knapsack, he stood straight, his long arms at his side as he watched me unblinkingly. “You should come here,” he said, his voice velvety smooth, beckoning.

  It was an invitation that I felt deep in the pit of my stomach. He stood there, all noble and godlike and otherworldly, and before I could say no, I took a minuscule step toward him.

  “Holy shit!”

  We both turned to Cookie. She’d stopped short just inside the door.

  Amber ran into her backside. “Mom,” she complained, stepping around her only to be brought up short as well. She eyed Reyes as if he were a rock star. “Wow.”

  I concurred, but these were not the best circumstances for them to meet the escaped convict hiding out in my apartment. “Cookie, can we go back to your place a minute?”

  She fought visibly to tear her gaze off Reyes. She lost. It stayed locked on to him like a laser-guided tracking system.

  “Cookie?” I said, walking up to her and nudging her out the door.

  She blinked and, realizing what she’d been doing, blushed prettily. “I’m so sorry,” she said, nodding to Reyes and hurrying back to her apartment with Amber in tow.

  “Mom, wait,” Amber said, not ready to abandon the local attraction.

  “Get your backpack, honey. I’ll drive you to school.”

  “Can’t I just stay?” she asked, craning her neck to see more.

  Once we were back inside their apartment, Cookie sent Amber after her backpack, then rested a look of astonishment on me. “Holy shit, Charley,” she said, her voice a quivering whisper, “that was Reyes Farrow.”

  “I know. I’m so sorry. He just sort of showed up.”

  “I think I had an orgasm.”

  A hiccup of laughter escaped before I could stop it. “You just looked at him.”

  “I know. Have you seen that man’s shoulders?” she asked, and I chuckled again.

  “Yes, I have. Don’t worry, you’ll get the feeling in your legs back soon.”

  “And his forearms. For the love of god, who knew forearms could be that sexy?”

  “It happens to the best of us.”

  “He’s just so—”

  “I know.”

  “And, so—”

  “I know that, too. It might be a ‘son of Satan’ thing.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  I helped her to a sitting position on her sofa.

  Amber rushed back in. “Can I snap a picture of him on my phone before I go to school?”

  “School.” Cookie glanced up at me, a worried expression lining her face. “I’ll talk to her on the way.”

  I felt so bad. This wasn’t their fault, but I just couldn’t have Amber talking about Reyes with her friends. Who knew who might be listening, who might make the connection? “I’m so sorry about this.”

  “No.” Cookie stood up. “It’s not your fault. I’ll take care of this.”

  With a smile, I said, “Thanks, Cook.”

  I kissed Amber good-bye, then went back to the apartment. Reyes was gone. He’d left his knapsack there. That wasn’t incriminating in the least. I threw on a black leather jacket and headed out to Misery. Garrett was back, sitting in his truck across the street. I paused, glanced around for Reyes, then opened my door and climbed in.

  My cell rang as I turned the ignition.

  “I need to speak with Charlotte.”

  I didn’t recognize the male voice. “This is Charley.”

  “This is Donovan.”

  Nor the name. “Donovan?” I backed out and headed for the interstate. Garrett followed, naturally. How did he miss Reyes?

  “From the mental asylum.”

  I was in a mental asylum? When the fuck did that happen?

  “The abandoned mental asylum that you break into on a semi-regular basis?” he added when I didn’t respond.

  “Oh, right. The bikers.”

  “Righ
t,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Sure.” I wondered if Rocket had finally taken down the building.

  “Artemis,” he started, then stopped.

  I could hear the pain in his voice, and my heart seized. “Is she okay?”

  “No. Apparently the poison did more damage than we’d thought, and when she was playing with you yesterday, she ruptured a kidney. She’s at the animal hospital now.”

  A hand rose to my mouth before I could stop it. “Oh, my god, I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m not blaming you.” His voice cracked and he had to catch his breath. “I want to hire you.”

  “What?”

  “I want to know who did this,” he said, a chilling resolve hardening his voice. “And either you can find out, or I can.”

  I assumed his methods would be a tad more brutal than my own. “No offense, but you can’t afford me.”

  I was about to say I’d do it for free when he countered with, “I can afford ten of you.”

  “I’ll find out. I’ll try to get over in the next couple of days. Don’t start without me.”

  “That’s not soon enough.”

  Darn it. “Okay, let me think.” I had to run out to Corona to be interrogated for murder. Other than that, my day was fairly open. “Barring an arrest, I can be there this afternoon. Are you going to be home?”

  “I can come to you,” he said, “right now.”

  “I’m headed out of town on a case. I’ll come there. I need to look around the neighborhood and ask you about your neighbors anyway.”

  With a sigh of resignation, he agreed. “Okay. But if you’re not here this afternoon, I’m looking into this myself. I only called you because Eric wanted me to. He thinks you’ll have better luck.”

  I assumed Eric was one of his gang members. Obviously one of the smarter ones.

  “I’ll be there. I promise. Will you let me know if anything happens to her?”

  “Sure.” He hung up without further ado. Why would anyone do such a thing? My heart broke. I could almost feel the guy’s pain through the phone connection, which would be a first.

  I swung by for a mocha latte, then pointed Misery south when Garrett called. I almost didn’t answer, but he’d only call back.

  “Where we headed, Charles?” he asked, a grin in his voice.

  “Nova Scotia.”

  “Looks like we’re headed back out to Corona. You really liked that burger, didn’t you?”

  “Farley Scanlon was murdered last night.”

  “Damn, you get around.”

  “The sheriff’s office wants to talk to us.”

  “Can a sheriff’s office really talk?” he asked, stepping up his game. He’d have to if he wanted to keep up with the likes of me.

  “Good-bye, Swopes.”

  “Wait, where were we?”

  I made sure the sigh of annoyance I exhaled was blatant enough, even a child could understand. “Is that a trick question?

  “Oh, right, number two. Ready?”

  Of course, the list of things one should never say to a grim reaper. I blew out another breath for good measure. “Hit me.”

  “This relationship will be the death of me.”

  “Okeydokey,” I said before hanging up. Freak.

  I called Uncle Bob on the way to fill him in on the situation. “I have to be honest with you,” I said when he answered, “I’m not sure you’ll ever get a woman with that haircut you insist on sporting.”

  “Is that why you called?” he asked, only slightly miffed.

  “Pretty much. And I might be charged with murder. Just wanted to let you know.”

  “You murdered someone?”

  Why do people always assume the worst? “No, I might be accused of murder. Big difference, Ubie.”

  “Oh, how’s the missing wife case?”

  “It’s there and yet nowhere. The guy won’t leave his danged house.”

  “What can I do?”

  “You can call Cookie. She’s swamped, trying to get information. We need to know where all his property holdings are. He could have Teresa held hostage somewhere. Also, I’d like to know what happened to Xander Pope’s daughter. Find out if she’s okay.”

  “Xander Pope?”

  “Yes. Yost could have hurt her.”

  “In what way?”

  “No idea. That’s why I have Cookie checking into it.”

  “I’ll look into it and give Cookie a call. Does this murder rap have anything to do with an escaped convict named Reyes Farrow?”

  “It does,” I said after taking a big swig of the mocha latte. “I think Earl Walker did it. He’s still alive, Uncle Bob, and he’s tying up loose ends. He killed his girlfriend shortly after Reyes’s trial, and now he’s after everyone else who might know he’s alive. Can you get someone over to Virgil Gibbs’s apartment?” Gibbs was the other name on Reyes’s list, the man I’d visited before I went to see Farley Scanlon in Corona. “He could be next, and while he’s not the most productive member of society, he doesn’t deserve to get his throat cut.”

  “Walker’s going around cutting throats?” Ubie asked, alarmed. “Is Swopes still with you?”

  I glanced in my rearview at the huge black truck behind me—Garrett was clearly overcompensating—and said “Yes” in the tersest voice I could muster, considering my lack of sleep.

  “Good. Keep him close. I’ll get a uniform over to Gibbs’s apartment to check on him. You know what this means, don’t you?”

  I was busy dodging a flock of suicidal birds. I swerved and ducked behind the steering wheel, because that would help. “Not really. What?”

  “It means I put an innocent man behind bars ten years ago.” His voice had changed, become despondent.

  “Uncle Bob, you thought he was guilty. I read the reports and the court transcripts. Anyone would have done the same.”

  “He didn’t … I didn’t listen to him, to what he was trying to tell me. He was just a kid.”

  My heart contracted at the image that popped into my mind. Reyes at twenty, accused of murder, all alone with no friends, no relatives, no one to turn to. He’d forbidden the only person in his life—his sister, Kim—from seeing him. And he sat there in jail, waiting to be put on trial for a murder he clearly didn’t commit. Where was a time machine when I needed one? But now we could put this right. We had to. “We have a chance to redeem that mistake, Uncle Bob.”

  After a long silence, he said, “How do you pay back ten years, Charley?”

  My heart broke at the guilt in his voice. I was actually surprised by it. He’d done his job. No one would deny that. Unless he knew more than he was letting on. Surely not. “Earl Walker is apparently really good at covering his tracks. No one will blame you for this.”

  He scoffed. “Reyes Farrow will.”

  Yes, I supposed he would. I could just imagine my uncle Bob drilling him for information in an interrogation room as he sat there cuffed, stewing in anger and confusion. “What was he like?” I asked Ubie before really thinking about the question, what it might do to him.

  “I don’t know, pumpkin. He was a kid. Dirty, unkempt, living on the streets.”

  Before I could stop it, a hand covered my mouth at the mental image. My left knee instinctively rose to steer Misery until I could lead my hand back to the wheel. I totally needed a hands-free phone accessory.

  “He said he didn’t do it. Once. And then never spoke to me again.”

  The sting in my eyes couldn’t be helped. That was so like Reyes. Stubborn. Rebellious. And yet, maybe it meant more. Maybe he’d given up, like an animal that had been exposed to so much abuse, it figured, Why bother? Why fight back?

  “But it was the way he said it,” Uncle Bob continued, his mind clearly lost in another time. “He looked me in the eye, his stare so strong, so powerful, the weight of it was like a punch to the gut, and said simply, ‘It wasn’t me.’ And then nothing. Not another word. No talk of lawyers, rights, food … He just shut down.
”

  My lips pressed together hard as I drove. “We can fix this, Uncle Bob,” I said, my voice shaking.

  “No, we can’t.” He seemed resolved to the fact that Reyes would hate him until the day he died. And then he added, “I grabbed him.”

  Startled, I asked, “You what?”

  “By the shirt collar. At one point in the interrogation, I was so frustrated, I lifted him from the chair and threw him back against the wall.”

  “Uncle Bob!” I said, not really sure what else to say and realizing he was lucky to be alive.

  “He did nothing,” Ubie continued, oblivious. “Just stared at me, his face blank, and yet I could feel the hatred simmering just beneath the surface. In all the years since, that look has haunted me. I’ve never forgotten him or the case.”

  “He’s a powerful being, Uncle Bob.”

  “No, you don’t understand.”

  My brows furrowed as I steered through a mountain range.

  After a long moment that had me wondering if we’d lost connection, he said, “I knew, pumpkin.”

  I could almost picture Ubie’s head in his hand as he spoke, his voice pregnant with such regret, such sorrow, it caused a cinch around my chest. “You knew what?”

  “I knew he didn’t do it.”

  I stopped breathing as I waited for an explanation.

  “I’m not stupid. I knew he didn’t do it, and I did nothing. All the evidence pointed directly at him, and because I didn’t want to look like a fool, I didn’t question it. Not for a minute. So you see,” he said, resigned to his fate, “we can’t fix this. He’ll come after me.”

  I blinked in surprise. “No, he won’t. He’s not like that.”

  “They’re all like that.” He seemed to welcome the idea, as though he deserved to be punished.

  I sat stunned to my toes, not sure what to say, how to proceed. “Can I see the interrogation tape?” I asked him, clueless as to why I’d want to see it.

  “You won’t find my outburst.” His tone had changed again, hardened. “I had friends in high places, and strangely that part of the tape was erased.”

  “It’s not your outburst I want to see. It’s him. I met him when I was in high school, remember? I know how powerful he is, how dangerous. But he won’t come after you, Uncle Bob. I promise,” I said, mentally adding my name to the roster of the Big Fat Liars Club. I had no way of knowing what Reyes would do. What he was capable of. And I was helping to free the one man who might want my uncle dead. Deep down inside, I wondered if that made me a bad niece.