Chapter 33 Hawk
HAWK
My phone buzzes.
Daniela.
Call me ASAP.
My thumb hovers over the screen.
She’s in class. She’s safe.
At least for now.
But right now, I’ve got another body to deal with.
Why is there always another body to deal with?
Falcon’s leaning against the doorframe in Haynes’s bedroom, arms crossed, gaze flicking from me to the corpse on the bed. Afternoon light slants through half-shut blinds.
“Tell me you’ve got a plan,” Falcon says.
I cross my arms. “I’ve got a problem.”
He rolls his eyes. “Same thing.”
“Not this time.”
He tilts his head, waiting.
“If the cops find him like this,” I say, “and they find our DNA in the house, and they figure out his DNA’s on the card that came with Daniela’s roses… I’ve got a motive served on a silver platter.”
Falcon purses his lips.
I slap his shoulder. “Why are you looking at me like that? I didn’t kill this asshole.”
“That’s rich coming from the guy who’s got another man tied up in our barn right now.”
“Yeah? That one’s not dead. And I have actual evidence that he did terrible things to Daniela.” I look down. “Just…not the things I thought he was doing.”
“Yeah, exactly. You’ve got to stop going off all halfcocked, Hawk.”
“You’ve got a fucking lot of nerve, Fal. You did worse than me in prison. You and Leif did worse when you rescued Savannah.”
“Did I say I didn’t?” Falcon shakes his head. “But this isn’t you, Hawk. You’re the good son. The one who’s obsessed with what’s right and what’s wrong.”
“Where the fuck has that gotten me?” I demand. “It’s time for me to save my woman the way you saved yours.”
“Your woman?” He raises his eyebrows. “Is it that serious between you two?”
I nod. “You bet your ass it is.”
He pinches at the bridge of his nose. “Fine. I’ll help you.” He rakes his gaze over Haynes’s corpse. “We could leave him. Pretend we never saw it.”
“And when the cops run prints and find yours in the house?” I say. “Back to prison you go, brother. And mine are on file too from when I got my concealed carry.”
He swipes a hand down his face. “What then?”
“We move him.”
He stares at me like I’ve grown another head. “You really want to haul a dead man through Oak County in broad daylight?”
“You got a better idea?”
Falcon pauses. “Yeah. Take him to Peter Loren. Tell him we stumbled on it. Let him handle it.”
I think about it. Loren’s an old contact. He was the county coroner for fifteen years, and he and our father are tight. Dad always says Peter was as trustworthy as they come.
Of course, Dad has proved to me again and again that he’s not a good person, so should I really trust someone he was tight with?
But we’re running out of options. It won’t be long before cops are descending on this house.
“Fine,” I say. “We’ll do it your way.”
It’s grunt work, getting Haynes off the bed. Dead weight isn’t a figure of speech. Sweat runs into my eyes as we wrestle him into a black trash bag Falcon pulled from the garage.
We lift him and carry him through the garage. The best thing to do would be to drive my truck into the garage and load him there, where no one can see. One problem. Haynes’s truck—presumably his, anyway—is parked at an angle and we can’t get in.
“I’ve got it,” I say. “Put him in a bin, and we’ll put that in my truck, as if we’re being paid to haul some shit away.”
“Remind me again,” Falcon says. “Why the hell are we mixed up in this?”
“Because the DNA on Daniela’s card matched Haynes,” I say.
“And now?”
“Now he’s a red herring.”
“You’re sure?”
I meet his gaze. “Pretty sure.”
“Pretty sure isn’t enough.”
“Daniela got the roses yesterday. Based on how much he’s decomposed, Haynes has been dead for a few days at least. That’s all I need to know.”
Falcon grunts. “Loren will tell us for sure.”
Once the body is safely in my truck—fuck, did I just think those words?—we drive in silence.
Loren’s office is tucked behind the county medical complex. The kind of place most people avoid unless they’re here to claim a body or identify one.
We back into the loading bay. The air here smells faintly of antiseptic.
Peter Loren meets us at the door. White coat over jeans, stethoscope slung lazily around his neck. He’s older now—lines deeper around the eyes—but has the same sharp stare.
He smirks. “Damn it all. Falcon Bellamy. And Hawk. I haven’t seen you two in a while.”
“Pete,” Falcon says.
“That’s a troubling look on both of you.” He crosses his arms. “Which means you’re bringing me the same. Trouble. The question is which. Your own, or are you cleaning up someone else’s?”
“I guess a little of both,” Falcon says.
“We’ve got a guy named Clifford Haynes,” I say. “He’s a registered sex offender. We found him dead at his place, throat slit. We need a time of death.”
“And discretion,” Falcon adds.
Loren sighs. “With any son of Austin Bellamy, discretion’s a given. Let’s see what we’ve got.”
We unload the bin and tote it into the exam room. We place the bag on the table and slide it off the body.
Loren doesn’t flinch. He’s seen worse. He snaps on gloves and palpates the neck.
“Neck wound,” he says. “Deep. Clean cut. Likely from a blade with some heft.”
“When?” I ask.
“Two days. Maybe three. Judging by lividity, ambient temperature… He’s been in that bed since he died.”
Falcon glances at me. “Daniela’s flowers came yesterday, you said.”
“Yeah,” I say. “And this guy’s DNA was on the card.”
Loren raises a brow. “Which means what?”
“Means it was planted,” I say. “This guy was already dead.”
Loren strips off his gloves. “You want an official report?”
I shake my head. “Unofficial is better. No paper trail.”
He studies us for a beat. “Falcon, this could be bad for you.”
Falcon shrugs. “Depends on your definition of bad, I guess.”
I ignore them both. My mind’s already spinning. Haynes is out. Which means I’m back to square one.
Reyes?
No.
Jordan?
No.
And now Haynes?
No.
“Thanks, Pete.” Falcon shakes the coroner’s hand. “Much obliged.”
“Yeah, thanks a ton,” I say.
“Sorry I don’t have better news for you boys,” he says. “I assume you want this body disposed of? Without a trace?”
“Please,” I say.
“Very well. Good luck.”
We nod and leave the office.
Once in the truck, I turn to my brother. “Whoever is behind this isn’t going to stop. We’ve still got a trail to follow.”
Falcon glares at me. “Hawk, you’ve broken into two houses in as many days. You’ve got a guy tied up in our barn. And now you’re talking about chasing another lead?”
I grit my teeth. “I’m not talking about it. I’m doing it.”
He stares at me. “What the hell happened to you?”
“You mean besides a decade of cleaning up Eagle’s shit? Besides keeping Dad’s dirt under wraps? Besides making sure no one in this family ever has to face what we really are?”
“Eagle’s shit?” Falcon shakes his head. “That was years ago, and I did the time, not you. And what are you talking about Dad’s dirt? Facing who we are? What the fuck?”
I don’t blame my brother. He doesn’t know about Eagle’s last eight years. He doesn’t know our father is a murderer.
So I sigh and bring it down a notch. “I’ve been the fixer,” I say. “Always. You know what that gets you? A front-row seat to everyone else’s disasters. I’m done.”
His jaw works. “And your plan now?”
“Stop cleaning. Start burning.”
I pull out my phone once we’re on the road. Daniela’s text is still there. Unanswered.
I hover over the call button.
I don’t press it.
Not yet.
She’s in class. She’s safe.
For now.