Second Grave on the Left (31 page)

Oh, for the love of hush puppies. This just got better and better. “Okay, let me think,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “Tell me again, why did you have dinner with Tommy Zapata the other day?”

Her brows crinkled. “He asked to meet with me. I was kind of scared not to. He said he was being blackmailed and he just couldn’t live with himself any longer.”

Blackmail tended to convince people they could no longer live with what they’d done. It was amazing.

“He said he’d met with Kyle and told him he was going to step forward and confess everything, take responsibility for his part in all of it. He asked me if I would back him. He was going to tell the authorities how they threatened Kyle and me, how they forced us to go with them.”

This was still not making a lick of sense. “Kyle’s family has money and you are married to a wealthy man, yet neither of you were being blackmailed?” I asked, incredulous.

“No, but we think we know who was doing it.”

“Really?”

“Tommy thought it was Jeff Hargrove.”

“Wait, the guy voted most likely to go to prison for rape and murder? That Jeff Hargrove?”

“Yes. Tommy thought he’d gotten into some financial trouble and decided Tommy, who owned a car dealership, would be an easy target. And Tommy was right. I checked into Jeff’s financial records—”

Dang, she was good.

“—and he’d made deposits on the same days as Tommy’s drops. Three of them.”

Wow, and yet both Tommy and Jeff were dead.

“Kyle called me later,” she continued. “He told me Tommy had actually apologized because he was likely going to ruin his political career.”

“That’s a pretty good reason to kill, Mimi,” Cookie said.

“No, Kyle didn’t care. He was going to step forward with Tommy. He was going to give a speech today with Tommy by his side and announce what happened.”

Gutsy. “Maybe he changed his mind.”

She sighed in frustration. “You would have to know Kyle. What you’re implying is so against his character, it’s unreal. He felt like he was living a lie anyway, hiding his homosexuality.”

I ran a hand down my face. My head hurt and not entirely because of the concussion. I thought I had this thing figured out. That’s what I got for thinking. “Okay,” I said, my voice airy with frustration, “so after you left for Albuquerque, what did Kyle do? Did they ease up on him?”

She shrugged, her mouth a grim line. “Kyle’s a good actor. He eventually convinced Jeff he was on their side. Then when school was out, he did the same thing I did. He left and spent the whole summer with his grandmother.”

“So, after you met with Tommy Zapata, did someone threaten you? Is that why you ran?”

“It wasn’t long after that I realized everybody was dying. I knew that my family was in danger. As long as I was a target and they were around me, they would not be safe. So I just got in a cab one day and ran. If not for that fire, I’d be in Spokane right now.”

“You kept yourself alive,” Cookie said. “Now we need to get you to safety.”

Yeah, while I figure out what the hell is going on.

The lights flickered out, and an eerie silence fell over us. I shushed everyone, then squatted down and peeked out the office door. An emergency light down the hall showed a large body, most likely belonging to Hulk, sprawled on the floor.

“Son of a bitch,” I said, unable to quite believe it. “They followed us?” I totally needed to pay more attention to who was on my ass. This was getting ridiculous.

“Who?” Mimi asked, her high-pitched whisper traveling down the hall.

Cookie shushed her with a finger over her mouth. I took hold of Mimi’s hand while Cookie took the other and we rushed out of the office toward a back exit I’d spotted on the way in. We weaved around boxes and bags as quietly as we could until we came to the back door. Thankfully, the rain pelting the roof offered us some cover. There was an emergency release on the door, but it would set off an alarm, so I was hesitant to go through it. Then again, maybe an alarm was exactly what we needed.

I led everyone to a darkened corner near the door, and we huddled there as I tried to decide if I wanted to draw that kind of attention.

“Hey, boss,” Angel said, appearing at my side.

I jumped, startling Cookie and Mimi, then scowled at him. “Again? Really?” I whispered.

“What are you doing?”

“Running from bad guys. What else do I do on a regular basis?”

“Who’s she talking to?” Mimi asked.

“Um…” Cookie panicked a moment, then said, “She’s rehearsing for a play.”

“Now?”

“So, I should just leave you to it?” Angel asked with a husky giggle.

I rolled my eyes and turned to Cookie. “Okay,” I whispered, “have your phone ready. You two run through that door and don’t stop for anything. I’ll close it and try to barricade it from the outside.”

“With what?” Cookie asked, her whispery voice squeaking in fear.

“Cook,” I said, wrapping a hand around hers, “have I ever let you down?”

“I’m not worried about you letting me down. I’m worried about you letting you down. These people are cold-blooded killers, Charley.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Mimi said. They were both shaking so bad, I had serious doubts they would make it to safety without collecting at least a couple of fractures from a fall. “Cook, you have to get Mimi out of here. She’s counting on us. You can do this.”

She took a deep breath. “Right. Okay. I’ll do it. But hurry. You’re a much better shot than I am.” She took out a .380 from her bag.

“Holy cow,” I said. I had yet to get my Glock back from the abandoned motel crime scene. Cookie rocked like a rock star. But, judging by the weight of it … “So, do you have bullets to go with it?”

“Oh!” She dug in her bag again and brought out a fully loaded clip. She handed it over with a smile. “Hurry,” she said as I locked the clip into place and chambered a round. The clicking sound echoed loudly, and I cringed. The rain seemed to muffle it a bit, but anyone within a stone’s throw would have heard it and been clued in to the fact that I had a gun.

“Do you know how many there are?” I asked Angel.

“Just one. The mean one from the motel.”

“Evil Murtaugh?” I asked.

“Okay,” he said with a shrug.

“Damn him,” I said, scanning the area. “Damn him to hell.”

“She’s really good,” Mimi said. “Dramatic.”

“Aw.” I turned to her with a smile. “Thank you.”

It was Cookie’s turn to roll her eyes. After an exasperated sigh, she took Mimi’s hand and charged toward the door, slamming into it really hard. Her second attempt was much more productive. When the door opened, as expected, it set off a shrill alarm that reminded me a lot of Mimi’s scream, and as I followed them through it, two things happened simultaneously: Cookie stumbled down the steps outside, and a wicked, wicked knife sliced across my back.

Chapter Eighteen

IF AT FIRST YOU DON’T SUCCEED, FAILURE MAY BE YOUR THING.

—T-SHIRT

For some odd reason, people wanted to carve me up like a jack-o’-lantern this week, probably because Halloween was just around the corner. As a general rule, knives hurt. I fell forward, stumbling on Mimi, who had stumbled on Cookie, and prayed to God I wouldn’t shoot anyone.

In Cookie’s defense, it was raining wildcats and rabid dogs. As we tumbled into a heap at the bottom of the steps, Angel pushed at the door with all his might—God bless his freaky little gangbanger soul—basically slamming it in Evil Murtaugh’s face. The door hit with a loud thud, and the knife clattered down the steps.

“Woohoo, Angel! That was awesome!” I said, knocking Cookie in the knee with my concussed head. That’d teach her.

“Run!” Angel said, annoyed. He was irritable all of a sudden.

My heart jumped into overdrive as we scrambled to our feet and ran down the alley, where it was darkest. If he happened to have a gun, which I suspected he did, he would be able to pick us off easily if we ran for the street. The lights were too bright to offer any cover. The way I saw it, we could run around the building and hightail it for the café. I prayed Norma had a key to lock the doors. And hopefully that alarm would bring the cavalry.

Cookie’s gaze darted wildly about as she ran. That woman could move pretty darned fast when she had to. But before we got twenty feet, the door swung open and crashed against the brick exterior of the building. Mimi screamed really helpfully. In case someone didn’t hear the earsplitting alarm.

“Run,” I told them as I turned and aimed the gun. Which was much harder than I’d anticipated with rain cascading in rivulets down my face. I fired one shot, and he ducked back into the building, allowing Cookie and Mimi time to get the heck outta Dodge. I quickly joined them.

“What do I do?” Angel asked, reanimating his grasshopper-in-a-skillet routine.

“Whatever you can, sweetheart.” I sprinted ahead and checked out the easement between the shelter and a candy-making factory next door. There were some crates and boxes, but it looked like we could make it through and the obstacles might make decent cover should the need arise.

Unfortunately, the need arose too soon. A shot sounded out, and Mimi fell to the ground with a squeak. She covered her head. I took aim and fired again, but not before he got off two more rounds.

For the first time in my life, I was in a shoot-out. A real, honest-to-goodness shoot-out with a bad guy. And apparently, we both sucked. I aimed for his head and shot the light above it. And I had no idea what the hell he was aiming at, unless he was taking out the windows at the candy-making factory as part of some strategic maneuver to outwit us. Cookie and Mimi were close to a Dumpster and they headed that way for cover. Evil Murtaugh was racing toward us when Angel tripped him. His gun crashed to the ground and went sliding.

“Get his gun!” I yelled to Angel as I bolted across the alley to join Cookie.

He glared at me and threw his arms in the air. “It doesn’t work that way.”

Oh, geez. There were rules?

“Are either of you shot?” I asked breathlessly as I took position behind the trash bin.

“I don’t think so,” Mimi said. “How long do you think it’ll take the cops to get here?”

“Longer than we have,” I said truthfully. Angel had kicked the man’s gun away, but it took him mere moments to track it down and head in our direction.

Now we were stuck behind a Dumpster with nowhere to run. I scrambled past the women to see if there was an opening in the fence bordering us. No such luck. It had to have been ten feet high. And since it was cinder block, I doubted my ability to crash through it without a really long running start. If we could climb onto the Dumpster, we could scale it, but that would mean exposing ourselves to Evil. And he probably had more bullets left than I did.

“I’m sorry, Mimi,” I said. She’d been hiding for a freaking reason, and we led the bad guy right to her. Way to go, Charlotte.

“No, please don’t be sorry.” She started crying and shaking uncontrollably, and my heart clenched in response. “None of this is your fault. It’s mine and mine alone.”

I did a quick sweep of the perimeter. Evil Murtaugh was almost upon us, gun raised and at the ready. I might could actually shoot him if he got within arm’s reach and stood really still.

“If I had just done the right thing twenty years ago.”

“Mimi,” Cookie said, wrapping an arm around her.

Before I could change my mind, I raised the .380 and stepped from behind the Dumpster, feeling more exposed than I’d ever felt before. Discounting that one time in Mexico City. Freaking tequila.

“You hit me!” I shouted through the pounding rain. I had no choice but to summon Reyes. I hated to bug, since he was being tortured and all, but …

An evil grin spread across my opponent’s face, making me realize why he was known ’round these parts as Evil Murtaugh.

“Rey’aziel—”

Without another thought, Evil Murtaugh squeezed.

Wait. I wasn’t finished.

But the world slowed and the bullet came to a rest in front of me.

“Didn’t we discuss your timing issues earlier?”

I glanced to my right as Reyes looked on, his robe undulating around him in glorious waves as if he were an ocean unto himself. Then I turned back to the expression of rage lining Evil Murtaugh’s face, to the raindrops hanging in midair, to the bullet as it trailed through the atmosphere toward me, splashing playfully through a drop. I could almost see the concussion of air as it propelled forward. It hovered mere inches from my heart. If time slipped, if it skipped a microsecond into the future, the bullet would hit home.

“How is this possible?” I asked Reyes.

I saw him shrug in my periphery. “That’s what happens when someone shoots at point-blank range,” he explained, his deep voice soothing despite my predicament.

“No, this. Everything just stops. Or, well, slows down a lot.”

“It’s the world we live in, Dutch.” He looked down at me, his robed head tilted as if in curiosity. “Well? Do you want me to take care of him for you?”

I did. I really did. But that one nagging issue still hung between us like a loose string on a sweater. I wanted to pull at it, but I knew if I did, I’d risk unraveling everything. For some reason that ranked right up there with Chihuahuas and weapons of mass destruction, I just couldn’t let it go. “Are you going to tell me where you are?”

“You’re going to bring that up now?”

“Yes.”

“Then no.”

“Then I can take care of this myself.”

The moment I said it, the moment the words slipped from my mouth, I realized there might be more to the rumors of my lack of mental stability than I’d allowed myself to believe. Wasn’t the fact that I needed his help the reason I summoned him in the first place?

“Sure about that?”

“Abso-freaking-lutely.”

It was official. I was psychotic.

With that growl thing he did that sent shivers down my spine, he turned from me in anger. “You are the most stubborn—”

“Me?” I asked, incredulous. “I’m stubborn?”

Oh, yeah. Just lock me up and throw away the key.

He was in front of me at once. “As a mule.”