Incongruously, he thought about another wise thing Fabler said, when they were on the outskirts of Puli Alam, pinned down by a tower sniper. Fabler told Grim to cover him with his M4 Carbine while he rushed the shooter, and Grim had questioned the stupidity of the plan. Fabler’s reply had been golden.
“I love this idea so much that it can’t possibly be good.”
Fabler had been correct. A rifle round creased his shoulder, and Grim had to drag his stupid ass to safety.
Presley smiled up at him, her eyes incredibly wide. So wide he could see his face in her pupils.
He chose to compromise. “I’ve got a better idea.”
She laughed. “A better idea? Really?”
“I need your help with something. Something important. Are you game?”
Presley didn’t respond. Seconds passed, and Grim worried he’d lost her. Eventually, finally, Presley nodded.
Grim ordered an Uber on his phone, bought two Red Bulls from the bartender, and led Presley outside. Grim gave her one can, then killed the other while they waited for the car to show up.
“Sex in an Uber?” Presley giggled. “Kinky.”
The Uber arrived; a Chevy, the driver a pudgy dude with a goatee. They stored Presley’s groceries in the front and climbed into the back seat. As soon as the car took off, Presley straddled Grim, her mouth on his.
Grim tried to keep it lowkey, hands above clothing, loving the smell of her hair as much as her lips on his and at the same time trying to push her gently away.
“This is going really fast.”
Presley grinned, her eyes actually twinkling. “That’s not something men normally complain about.”
“There are things about me. Things you don’t know.”
She nibbled his ear, something that drove him wild. “Okay. Tell me those things I don’t know.”
Grim put his palms on her shoulders and pushed her a few inches away. “I’m not a nice guy, Presley.”
“Prove it to me.”
Presley pushed back, surprisingly strong, which turned him on even more, and then her tongue found his and Grim closed his eyes and let sensation take over, like he’d spent three hours in line for a front row seat in a roller coaster and they’d just gone over the first drop, gravity and emotion overwhelming him.
“We’re here.”
Their Uber driver, slapping Grim in the face with reality just as Presley placed her hand on his fly.
The roller coaster stopped like it hit a stone wall.
Presley pulled away, looking around, then frowning.
“The grocery store again? This is your great idea?”
But the brief respite allowed clarity to reach Grim, and he eased Presley off his lap.
“It’s not the grocery store. Follow me.”
“Don’t forget your bag.”
Grim grabbed her groceries and they got out and walked through the parking lot, heading to the place he’d intended to go earlier.
“PetSmart?” Presley nudged him with her hip. “You’re kinkier than I thought, Grim.”
“I have five catfish in my bathtub.”
“Sounds hot.”
“I broke their aquarium today. I need to get them a replacement.”
“I bet.” Her flirty smile broadened, then faded. “You’re serious.”
“They’ll die.”
“I’m throwing myself at you, and you want to buy a fish tank?”
“Would you want to have sex with a guy if you knew that his pets were dying while you were doing it?”
“That’s… dark.”
“Look, Presley, you’re hot as hell. And I like you. A lot. But I want to slow this down a little, and my fish can’t live in a bathtub. Can you help me pick out a tank?”
Presley didn’t leave. After a few seconds of hesitation, she grinned, bright as a hundred watt bulb. “Sure. Let’s find a fish tank.”
They shopped, thankfully without any physical contact, giving Grim a chance to settle down. The options narrowed down, Grim leaning toward another thirty gallon rectangular tank, but Presley preferring one shaped like a cylinder.
He didn’t see the appeal. “Why a cylinder?”
“No corners.”
“What’s wrong with corners?”
“The fish hit the corners, they know they’re stuck in a tank. In this one they can swim around and around in circles and never know they’re trapped.”
The cylinder cost three times as much as the rectangle, and Grim’s bank account dangerously low, but he bought it anyway and made arrangements to have it delivered tomorrow morning.
After Grim finished the transaction, he turned to thank Presley for her suggestion.
She had disappeared.
FABLER ○ 6:48pm
Presley still hadn’t returned.
Fabler spent a few minutes trying to swat a fly that had gotten into the house. Every so often it zoomed past, barely out of reach, but chasing it proved difficult because the bug made no sound at all.
Fabler gave up the insect pursuit and watched a DVD. An old sci-fi action film where Arnold Schwarzenegger was being hunted for sport.
Fabler enjoyed it, even though the film lacked realism.
He considered doing some training. Maybe some night target practice.
Instead, he went on the Internet and searched for redheads.
PRESLEY ○ 6:49pm
It stung, just a little, when Grim decided he’d rather go to a pet store rather than have sex. But he’d enjoyed the dancing. And the kissing. She could tell.
Presley giggled, thinking about reaching for him in the back seat of the Uber.
She wandered the pet aisles, feeling tipsy and alive and silly and safe and almost carefree.
Every night, after she went to bed, Presley half-expected her knobless door to slowly open and for him to creep into her room wearing the welding helmet, a flare in one hand and a hatchet in the other.
Still, the household reeked of unease and crazy. And Fabler’s lack of humanity troubled her.
Presley strolled past some adorable gerbils, and stopped when she saw a dude enter the pet store.
“Hey, lady.” He waved at her, walking over at a fast pace.
Presley tensed, balling up her fists, planting her feet, silently cursing herself for the second time that evening for leaving Fabler’s .45 on the table at his house, ready to swing as the dude raised up—
A cell phone.
“You or your boyfriend left your phone in my car.”
Presley laughed, releasing the pent-up tension, and then thanked the guy.
“Can I tip you?”
“Tips are great. You can tip in the app. And please leave me a rating and a review. That would be awesome.”
“Sure. Happy to.”
He continued to stand there.
She tapped the screen of Grim’s cell, looking for Uber.
Presley didn’t have to look very long. Grim only had a few apps on his phone. Maps, Weather, Music, Google, and—
An app labeled FABLER.
Presley clicked on Uber. “Our driver was great.” She spoke as she texted. “He returned my cell phone. Highly recommended. Five dollar tip.”
The driver thanked her and strolled off.
Presley didn’t hesitate.
She clicked on the FABLER icon.
It opened, revealing a screen of large, digital numbers, labeled 1 through 6. Each had a thumbnail pic below it.
She pressed 1.
It enlarged a color picture. Fabler, sitting on his sofa, the angle from above.
She pressed 2.
Fabler’s kitchen.
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
The grin vanished when Presley clicked on 3.
A bedroom.
Someone, coming up on her right. Startled, reverting to her training, Presley lashed out with a chop to the bridge of the nose.
Grim ducked in time, and Presley missed her target, bouncing her hand off his forehead. Then he had his hands up, stepping away.
“Hey, what the hell are—”
Grim saw the cell phone and immediately reached for it. Presley held it behind her.
“You asshole. You’ve got cameras in the house.”
The anger dropped from Grim’s face. He deflated.
“I did it weeks ago.” His voice was soft. “Right before he got out.”
“You’ve been watching me, you asshole.”
Grim didn’t answer.
“Did you like what you saw? Did you record it? Me in the shower?” She winced. “Me taking a shit?”
“I don’t have cameras in the bathrooms.”
“But the bedroom isn’t off limits, apparently.”
“It’s… complicated.”
“How is illegal surveillance complicated?”
“I was making sure.”
“Making sure what? That you could watch me undress before bed?”
“Making sure Fabler didn’t kill anyone else.”
Presley recalled her anonymous benefactor saying the same thing.
“Hold on… are you…”
Grim didn’t answer, but his look said it all.
Presley felt like she’d been socked in the mouth.
“You hired me, and you’ve been watching me this whole time.”
“I was making sure nothing happened to you.”
“What were you going to do? Leap out of the camera if the son of a bitch attacked me?”
“He killed my sister, Presley. Remember what we said at the bar? What would you do for your family? You said whatever it takes.”
“Including making me part of your own sick reality TV show.”
He raised his palms. “There are no recordings. It’s a live feed to keep tabs on him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to.”
“What stopped you?”
“Honestly? Your tongue in my mouth.”
Presley’s eyes narrowed. Any chance he had for forgiveness died with that comment.
“Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Because that isn’t going to ever happen again.” She turned and walked off.
“Where are you going?”
“Away from you.”
“Are you going back to… him?”
Presley paused. As violated as she felt by the voyeurism, lies, and betrayal, she needed the money.
“Triple what we agreed on.”
“Fine. Can I have my phone back?”
Presley considered throwing it at him.
She stormed back to Grim, handing him the phone.
His eyes drooped. “I’m sorry.”
“Save it, asshole. You’re my employer. That’s it. I’ll take your money. I’ll report anything weird. But don’t call me, don’t think about me, and stop making that hurt face. I’m the victim here, not you.”
“I did enjoy it.”
“Excuse me?”
Grim stuck his hands in his pockets. “Kissing you, I mean. You said you hoped I enjoyed it. I did. And I stopped kissing you because I wanted to tell you everything before it went any further.”
“That’s too little, too late. You should have told me sooner.”
A streak of defiance surfaced through the aw-shucks humility on Grim’s face.
“This is a two way street, Presley. You could have told me, too. Once you knew I was the cop that framed him, you could have told me Fabler was your little live-in nursing project. I know you went out for drinks with me to get more information. And that’s why you…” His voice trailed off.
“Why I what?”
Grim lowered his voice. “We all do what we need to do, Presley. You of all people know that.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “I found you through a friend at the Veteran’s Administration. I was looking for someone with a certain set of qualifications. Your name came up.”
“What exactly were the qualifications?”
“Someone who could help me get the truth out of Fabler. By any means possible.”
“Isn’t that your job? You’re a honey trapper. Women hire you to trick their husbands.”
“Women hire me to test their husbands’ fidelity. To see if the bastards are cheating.”
“And how do you do that? With a handshake?”
“I’m not a whore, you asshole. I don’t sleep with them. They kiss me, I get a picture of it, the wife gets a better settlement in the divorce.”
“If a wife hires you, she’s already unsure about her marriage. You’re dangling a treat in front of a starving dog, then punishing him for trying to e
at it.”
“Maybe that starving dog should be eating at home rather than eating out.”
“That’s how you justify it?”
“Cheaters and liars are scumbags. Like you.”
“Let me make sure we’re both clear on this. Some guy kisses you, after you flirt with him and make him feel special and lead him on, and his life is ruined, and you’re fine with that. But I set up cameras in the house of the guy who killed my sister and that’s a lousy thing to do.”
“I don’t hide who I am, Presley. I’m not ashamed of it. Are you?”
“Like you lie to the men you seduce? Like you lied to me about your nursing job?”
Presley shook her head. “How did I become the one on trial here? You’ve been spying on me—”
“On him. Not on you. The cameras were there before you showed up.”
“—then you follow me into town—”
“That was a coincidence. I was going to the pet store. You happened to be there.”
“Right. To save your stupid goldfish that are in your bathtub. Was that bullshit too?”
“They’re catfish. And they aren’t stupid. My sister bought them for me.”
“Stop bringing up your sister.”
Grim beat his fists against his hips. “I can’t. Remember? I can’t get over it. Not until I find out what happened.”
Presley softened a tad. “I was starting to like you, Grim. But you’re a jerk. Just like every other guy I meet.”
“I’m a lot different than the other guys you meet, Presley. I’m not married.”
Presley had never been proud of her job. But she’d never been embarrassed by it, either. It paid the bills, and she helped other women, and the men she exposed deserved what they got.
What Happened to Lori Page 11