My heart leapt into my throat. She was next. Gemma was the serial killer’s next victim.
I tore out of the station parking lot amidst glares from a couple of cops walking in and called Uncle Bob.
“Did you find her?” I asked him. “Did you find Gemma?”
“No, according to her secretary, she canceled all her appointments this morning and she’s not at her house.”
“Bloody hell.” Okay, no more playing games. “Uncle Bob, I think the serial killer is a client of hers. He’s a cop.”
“A cop?” That stole the wind from his sails. “Okay, explain.”
“The girl that scratched me left the exact same marks on my face that he has on his.”
“Charley, that’s really thin.”
“I know. I know how it sounds, but she was trying to tell me something, to give me a clue.”
“Well, I can’t accuse a cop of something like this without some solid evidence.”
“And I’ll get it, but first we have to get Gemma to a safe house. I think she’s next.”
“Holy shit, Charley. You definitely should have led with that.” I heard him snapping his fingers as though getting another officer’s attention.
“Sorry, can you put out a BOLO on her car?”
“Just did. I’m looking up the license plate now. Where are you?”
“I’m headed to the bridge.”
“What bridge? The one that woman told you about?”
“Yes, she said she saw a body, blond hair, and a tattoo or a mark with the number eight on it.”
“And?”
“And, Gemma drew an infinity symbol on her wrist.”
“Are you saying you think this woman predicted your sister’s death?”
“Let’s just say she’s good. Someone is going to die under that bridge, Uncle Bob.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll send a car out. You need to get back here.”
“I’m already headed that way.”
“Charley, damn it.”
“I’m not stupid. Just send a car. I won’t do anything until your patrolman gets there.”
“Christ on a cracker, Charley, I will not survive you.”
“And call me the second you find anything. Check for her car at that nail salon. She’s such a girl. And there’s that macaroni place she likes.”
“I’m on it.”
I hauled booty toward the bridge, going 110 in a 55, hoping a cop would chase me. I could use the backup. On the way, I called Reyes.
I spoke the minute he picked up. “Reyes, I need you to find my sister.”
“How’d the meeting go?”
“Reyes Farrow, there is no time. I need you to find Gemma and protect her.”
“Okay, so what’s in it for me?”
“What? What do you mean, what’s in it for you?”
“I mean, what do I get if I find your sister and protect her from all the evil in the world?”
“Reyes, this isn’t a game.”
“And I’m not playing one. I’m asking a question.”
“Oh, my god, I don’t know. What do you want?”
“You,” he said, his voice lowering an octave. “I want you, Dutch, body and soul. I want you in my bed every night. I want you there when I wake up in the morning. I want your clothes strung across my apartment and your scent on my skin.”
Was he asking for a commitment? Now was not the time to be negotiating for drawer space. “Fine. I’m yours. Body and soul.” I swerved to pass a Pinto with a chicken coop on top. Uncle Bob wasn’t kidding.
“I mean it.”
“So do I.” I took in a deep breath. No matter how he was getting it, he was getting it. If he wanted a commitment, then I’d give him one. I’d have given him my left ovary if it meant him dematerializing and finding my sister. “I mean it. I’m yours.” The words caused a sharp tingling in the pit of my belly. “I’ve always been yours.” When he didn’t answer, I asked, “Are you there?”
“I’m here. I was just worried. After what happened with Swopes —”
“What? You didn’t think I would still want you? I assumed last night would have proved that I did. Thank you for the picture, by the way.”
“Did it help your case?”
“Yes. Or, well, it did until I showed up to pick up my client and she had morphed into an elderly man with a bad ticker and then vanished into thin air.”
“Weird how those things happen.”
“Reyes,” I said, pleading with him to understand, “the things she’s done are not exactly nickel-and-dime. Kim needs help.”
“And she’s getting it.” His tone brooked no argument. The topic was not open to debate. While those were precisely the kinds of topics I liked to debate, I dropped it in lieu of more pressing issues.
“Fine, but right now, my sister could be gasping for air beneath the hands of a murderer with an affinity for blondes.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You can’t know – Wait, why don’t you think so?”
“She looks happy to me.”
I slammed on Misery’s brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. “What? You already found her?”
“I’m not sure she was ever lost, but yeah.”
I could have kissed him. I could have kissed the ground he walked on. I could have kissed the phone he spoke through.
“Hold it. I don’t understand. How are you talking to me?” If he had gone into ghost mode, how was he still on the phone with me in corporeal mode? Then again, the last time he ghosted himself, his corporeal self still fought a demon.
“Well, I put the phone to my mouth and —”
“Seriously, Reyes, where are you? Where’s Gemma?”
“I’m at work, and Gemma’s eating the Monte Cristo I just made for her.”
“Holy shit, she’s there? She’s at Calamity’s?”
“Every ounce of her.”
“Is she alone?”
“If you don’t count the guy she’s with, she is.”
I pulled a Uey and headed back to town. “What guy? She’s with a guy?”
“Yeah, a cop. He’s must be on his lunch break or something. He’s still in uniform.”
A thick dread tightened around my chest. “Does he have three scars on his left cheek?”
“Yes, but enough about him. What are you wearing?”
“This is not the time, Reyes. Whatever you do, do not let Gemma leave with that cop.”
“And how would you suggest I stop them?”
“You’re the son of Satan. You can’t come up with something?”
“For a price.”
“You already have me. I’m paid up, buddy.”
“You have to strip for me.”
“Now?”
“Tonight.”
“What is it with guys and lap dances?”
“I can’t imagine,” he said, his voice deadpan.
“Okay, I’ll strip. I’ll tap dance. I’ll sing ‘La Cucaracha’ in C minor.”
“They aren’t going anywhere. You have my word.”
A relief so cool I shivered washed over me. “I’ll call Uncle Bob and get him over there ay-sap. Thank you.”
“Thank me tonight.”
A different kind of shiver flitted over my skin like a caress at the sound of his voice.
Letting the deliciousness linger, I hung up and called Uncle Bob.
“Well?” he asked, waiting for word.
“Found her. She’s at the bar. Reyes is watching her, but Uncle Bob, she’s with the guy I suspect, the cop.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“See, Gemma gets in trouble, too. It’s not all me.”
“Mm-hmm.” He didn’t sound totally convinced.
“I’m going to get Cookie down there to help make sure they don’t leave together.”
“I’ll be there in ten. How far out are you?”
“Well, I was going pretty fast. I made good time. I can be back to town in about fifteen.”
“Got it. Hurry.”
The second I hung up with Uncle Bob, Cookie called. God, that girl had good timing.
“Hey, where are you?”
“At the office. Did you know that women actually take Reyes’s picture with their phones when he walks past?”
“I know.”
“It’s disturbing.”
“Yes, it is.”
“But I got some really good shots.”
“Seriously? Text them to me,” I said, excited; then reality sank in. “Wait, first you have to go down to the restaurant and help Reyes stall Gemma from leaving.”
“Oh, okay.” I heard her walking, a door opening. “What’s going on with Gemma?”
“I think she’s dating our serial killer. So, you know, don’t make eye contact unless you have to.”
“O-okay. Should I go back and get my gun?”
“Because Dad’s bar needs another hole in it?”
“But what if she tries to leave?”
“And you’re going to pull a gun on her?” I dodged a roadrunner and almost flipped Misery, a fact she did not appreciate. “Reyes can handle it, but just in case, you be his backup. Uncle Bob is on the way.”
“Wait, no, it’s okay. I can see her. She’s with a cop.”
“Aka the serial killer.”
“No,” she said, whispering into the phone. “The serial killer is a cop?”
“He’s my lead suspect, so just keep your distance.”
The minute I parked, I jumped out of Misery and ran into Calamity’s through the back door. I’d sped even worse on the return trip, trying to get there before Gemma could leave, and I arrived just as Uncle Bob was barreling in the front. Good thing we hurried. Officer Pierce had Reyes against the bar, about to cuff him. An off-duty cop named Rodriguez was holding Gemma back as another cop whom I didn’t know was assisting a dramatically distraught Cookie.
“What’s going on?” Uncle Bob asked.
Cookie pointed at Reyes. “This, this monster attacked me.”
I stood transfixed, trying to reconcile that bit of knowledge, when Reyes glanced over his shoulder and winked.
Dad was there, too, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed at his chest, not buying it for a minute. Luckily, the only one who needed to buy it was Officer Pierce, and he did. Paid full price, too. With tax. But that was nothing compared to the price he would pay when I sent him to prison for five thousand years.
Dad waved me over. “Hey, can you tend bar a couple of nights this week? Teri’ll be out.”
“Sure. This is entertaining, at least.”
He smiled. “It sure is.”
“Okay, Wyatt,” Ubie said to Officer Pierce, “you can let him up now.”
“But, sir, he assaulted this lady, then shoved me when I tried to intervene.”
I gasped. “You didn’t,” I said to him, unable to keep a grin from sliding into place. He totally needed to be frisked again.
Uncle Bob patted Pierce’s shoulder. “And he was just following orders.”
Pierce straightened in surprise, and without waiting, Reyes twisted out of his grasp. He’d let them take him, let them get the upper hand, thank goodness, but even he could play the victim for only so long.
“You okay?” I asked him, my heart bursting with gratitude.
Reyes’s smile said it all.
“Charley, what is going on?” Gemma asked.
I turned on her. “What are you doing here with him? I thought he was your patient.”
Guilt flooded her body. It hit me like a London fog, thick and murky. She bowed her head in embarrassment. “He was my patient, yes, but now I’m seeing him. He has a new therapist, so —”
“Gemma,” I said, shocked and dismayed. Not a lot – she was only human – but enough to push the limits of her discomfort to an all-new high.
With emotions set on full alert, now was the perfect time to find out if Officer Pierce was my serial killer. I loved my internal guilt-o-meter. Everyone should have one of these babies. It would eliminate a lot of problems. Or, on the flip side, it could cause a lot more. Maybe I’d keep mine to myself. And cancel that patent I’d applied for.
“Sir,” Pierce said to Uncle Bob, “what is this about?”
I stepped over to him, got a reading of his emotions, then hit him hard. “We found the mass grave,” I said, hardening my features and my voice. “We know what you did, and you, my friend, are under arrest for the murder of twenty-seven women.”
Uncle Bob’s emotions bucked when I said that, but he kept his apprehension to himself. For now.
The befuddled look on Officer Pierce’s face would have been comical in any other situation. “Murder?” he asked, questioning Uncle Bob. “What are you talking about?”
“Charley!” Gemma gaped at me. “Have you gone insane?”
“He’s a serial killer, Gemma, and you were about to be his next victim.”
There it was at last. That bristling of indignity. That spark of injustice that proclaimed his innocence. No one, not even the best liars in the world, could control their own gut reaction to that degree. He was innocent. Not the verdict I’d expected, but at least I had an answer. My shoulders wilted, and I sat on a barstool beside my man. He moved closer to me, the movement almost imperceptible.
“Never mind,” I said, waving to Uncle Bob, my innards deflating. “It’s not him.”
The appearance of a half smile on his face was enough to tell me he was relieved. Gemma rushed over to Pierce, put her arm on his in support.
“Your assistant is quite the actress,” Reyes said.
Cookie grinned as she walked over. “I have to admit, it was fun pretending like Reyes was assaulting me. Me!” she said, indicating the women at one particular table. Thankfully, none of them were Jessica. For once, she seemed to be elsewhere, but the entire table bristled when Cookie said that. It was fantastic.
As Uncle Bob tried to calm Officer Pierce and Gemma, Reyes leaned forward, wrapped Cookie in his arms, and kissed her full on the mouth. I plastered a hand over my mouth as she clutched on to him like a cat hanging from a tree limb.
He released her slowly; then he spoke in a voice loud enough for the table of women to hear. “If life were fair, Cookie Kowalski, you would be mine.”
Her jaw dropped open, and the knowing grin he offered her accompanied by a conspiratorial wink had her shoulders shaking with mirth.
Uncle Bob couldn’t take any more. He stepped in between them. “But life isn’t fair,” he said. “You of all people should know that.” He took Cookie’s arm and led her away. Hopefully to a chair because I wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand.
Reyes watched them leave, then raised his brows at me. “I think I ruffled your uncle’s feathers.”
“That was pretty amazing,” I said to him when he reached past me for his towel. “Thank you.”
He paused just long enough to put his mouth to my ear and say, “Thank me tonight.” Then, before the women at the table next to us realized he was coming on to me, he walked back into the kitchen.
Gemma turned on me like a wildcat protecting her young. “Charley, what is this about?”
Uh-oh. Fess-up time. “It’s about the fact that I thought Officer Pierce was a serial killer.”
He stared at me aghast. Gemma stared at me aghast. Officer Rodriguez stared at me aghast. The only one who wasn’t staring at me aghast was Uncle Bob. He was too busy trying to recover the ground he’d lost with Cookie. He’d have a hard time, considering the Adonis with whom she’d just sucked face, but I had faith in him.
“Ubie,” I said, interrupting, “I could really use some backup here.”
“You honestly think I killed someone?” Officer Pierce asked, astounded. “Why would you even —? I mean, I can’t even comprehend —”
“I get that a lot. But look.” I pointed to my face and then to his. “See?”
“My scars? You think that means I killed someone?”
�
�That’s what I thought initially, yes.” I could’ve sworn on a stack of Bibles the pixie under my bed was pointing me to him. His scars were exactly like my scratches. And then with Nicolette predicting the blond hair and the number eight tattoo…
“Charley,” Gemma said, her tone edged with warning, “he had an incident when he was nine.”
“Yeah, it’s called – Wait, nine?” I ogled him. “You got those scars when you were nine?”
“Yes, he saw a young girl fall to her death, but by the time the police got to them, she was gone.”
Could it have been the same girl? “Did she scratch you?”
He frowned at me. “How did you know that?”
“How old was she? This girl?”
“I don’t know. It was dark and she was dirty. She had on a nightgown.”
“If you had to guess.”
“Six. Maybe seven. I’m just not sure.”
“You tried to save her,” I said as realization dawned.
His gaze dropped to the floor. “Yeah, well, I failed.”
I saw an empty table and herded our group toward it. Quickly because someone else was making a run at it as well. I beat them and pulled out a chair. “Sit,” I said to Officer Pierce. “And explain.”
17
By reading this, you have given me brief control over your mind.
—T-SHIRT
“I was in the Boy Scouts,” Wyatt explained, “staying the summer with my grandparents in Elida, and my troop had gone on a camping trip to Billy the Kid Springs.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” I said, pulling out my phone to look it up.
“Don’t bother. I’ve looked on every map out there, trying to find it. I’m not sure it was an official name or anything. That’s just what everyone from the area called it. It was this little cove out in the middle of nowhere with a pond inside. I remember the water glowed a lime green color.”
Fifth Grave Past the Light: Number 5 in series (Charley Davidson) Page 24