Chapter 21 #3
“That, although a small part of me wants to pin this on Geoffrey, he accepted his glass of tea yesterday with his right hand. Scott used his left, and last night, he used both interchangeably. They’re each other’s alibis, so we might land on an accessory charge when this is all done, but for now, I’m setting Geoff aside and focusing my efforts on Scott.
The grease and dirt particles the lab pulled from Josey’s wound helped.
” I tilt my chin toward the screen on the wall.
“I’m really hoping street cam footage puts him behind the wheel of her car after TOD. ”
Drake’s eyes warm the side of my face. His jaw grits and releases in my peripherals, and every now and then, his knee bounces with nervous energy. But I don’t look at him. I won’t. Because integrity matters to me, too. And honesty. But loyalty wins above all the rest.
I never needed the prick to be loyal to me. But to Felix? To the brothers who folded him in and kept him safe in a dangerous world they believed he’d unintentionally stumbled into?
Drake fucked his brother over, nearly got him killed, and walked away at the end like Lix never mattered. And not once in all the months he’s been in Copeland has he acknowledged the punishments the rest of us copped on his behalf.
But he wants to act like I’m the dirty one?
Nah.
“Malone—”
“Water coolers don’t talk. So shut the fuck up.” My phone buzzes in my hand, so I glance down and spy Minka’s name on the screen. Answering and bringing it to my ear, I exhale a little of the tension burning in my blood. “Chief. Hey. What’s wrong?”
“Why must you assume there’s always something wrong?”
Because you’re my wife, and I can’t live without you.
Because you have a bleeding disorder that could kill you if you’re not careful.
Because you’re fucking with that disorder and replacing your meds with an experimental concoction created by a chick who cried about a sore leg and ate no less than five man-sized burgers on her own while we camped in the middle of nowhere.
“Because it’s who I am. What’s up?”
“Josey Ryan’s mom called about twenty minutes ago. She’s—”
“Hold on. I’m gonna put you on speaker.” I drag the phone from my ear and hate how Drake’s stare is the one I feel most of all. “Alright, Chief. You’ve got me, Fletch, Banks, and Clay.”
“I got a call from Josey Ryan’s mom,” she repeats. “She said you gave her my card and told her to call me if she wanted to see her daughter.”
“Yeah.” I set my phone on the table and grip the back of a chair. “I did. She wants to see her today?”
“Yes. She’s due here within the hour, so I figured you guys might like to know. Maybe you wanna visit at the same time if you have follow-up questions. Probably not all four of you, though.” She hesitates for a beat. “Four is a lot. She’s already vulnerable.”
“Clay and I will stay here and work through the street footage.” Fletch’s honeycomb gaze warms the side of my face. “Your notes say Josey never told her mom about the bedroom incident with Scott. So if you think it’s right, maybe you could run that by her and see what comes of it.”
“Yeah.” Don’t kill Drake Banks. Don’t kill him. Don’t even fucking look at him. “We’ll swing by, Chief. Might dawdle a minute and give her time to visit with Josey first.”
Another phone rings, drawing three sets of eyes, and because Clay has no chill at all, he panics and surges to his feet, frantically checking his pockets.
Amused, Fletch shakes his head.
Pale, Clay slams the damn thing against the side of his face with a noisy crack that probably hurts.
“Alright, Mayet.” I bring my focus back to her. “We’ll be there soon. Thanks for the heads up.”
“No problem.”
I end our call, while Clay shoots off fast affirmatives to whoever he speaks to.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” His eyes spring wide and fling to mine.
“Yes. Uh-huh.” He nods, though fuck knows, whoever he’s talking to can’t see.
“Yes, alright. Bag it, tag it, don’t mess with the chain of evidence.
Detective Fletcher and I will be out there soon. ”
“What?” The instant he yanks the phone from his ear, I slip mine in my pocket and study the boy up and down. “What’ve you got?”
“They found freshly disturbed dirt about two miles from Josey’s dump site. CSIs are on scene. They pulled a plastic bag out of the ground.”
“Tell me they got the knife,” Fletch demands. “Blood-soaked clothes?”
“Knife. The missing phone. A pair of plastic three-XL coveralls, still sticky with blood. A ball cap. And Josey’s car keys.”
“Fuckin’ A.” Fletch slaps the laptop closed and tugs the cords from the side port.
“We’re gonna head out and meet up with CSIs now.
Clay will drive, and I’ll watch footage while we’re moving.
Arch, you and Banks go to the George Stanley and see if something shakes loose with the mom.
” He hugs the laptop to his chest and circles the table.
“We’re cornering this motherfucker. We’re gonna tie him up nice and tight, then we’re putting this case behind us and going back to our designated corners.
” He stops by the door, hesitating with his hand on the knob as he looks from me to Drake.
“We’re close, so I’m gonna need you to put all that shit back in the bottle.
Drake, you be a water cooler if that’s what it takes.
Water coolers don’t talk, they don’t argue, and they don’t escalate an already tense situation.
Clay.” He barks the boy’s name and makes him jump. “Let’s go.”