“Holy shit!”
We both turned to Cookie. She’d stopped short just inside the door.
Amber ran into her backside. “Mom,” she complained, stepping around her only to be brought up short as well. She eyed Reyes as if he were a rock star. “Wow.”
I concurred, but these were not the best circumstances for them to meet the escaped convict hiding out in my apartment. “Cookie, can we go back to your place a minute?”
She fought visibly to tear her gaze off Reyes. She lost. It stayed locked on to him like a laser-guided tracking system.
“Cookie?” I said, walking up to her and nudging her out the door.
She blinked and, realizing what she’d been doing, blushed prettily. “I’m so sorry,” she said, nodding to Reyes and hurrying back to her apartment with Amber in tow.
“Mom, wait,” Amber said, not ready to abandon the local attraction.
“Get your backpack, honey. I’ll drive you to school.”
“Can’t I just stay?” she asked, craning her neck to see more.
Once we were back inside their apartment, Cookie sent Amber after her backpack, then rested a look of astonishment on me. “Holy shit, Charley,” she said, her voice a quivering whisper, “that was Reyes Farrow.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. He just sort of showed up.”
“I think I had an orgasm.”
A hiccup of laughter escaped before I could stop it. “You just looked at him.”
“I know. Have you seen that man’s shoulders?” she asked, and I chuckled again.
“Yes, I have. Don’t worry, you’ll get the feeling in your legs back soon.”
“And his forearms. For the love of god, who knew forearms could be that sexy?”
“It happens to the best of us.”
“He’s just so—”
“I know.”
“And, so—”
“I know that, too. It might be a ‘son of Satan’ thing.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
I helped her to a sitting position on her sofa.
Amber rushed back in. “Can I snap a picture of him on my phone before I go to school?”
“School.” Cookie glanced up at me, a worried expression lining her face. “I’ll talk to her on the way.”
I felt so bad. This wasn’t their fault, but I just couldn’t have Amber talking about Reyes with her friends. Who knew who might be listening, who might make the connection? “I’m so sorry about this.”
“No.” Cookie stood up. “It’s not your fault. I’ll take care of this.”
With a smile, I said, “Thanks, Cook.”
I kissed Amber good-bye, then went back to the apartment. Reyes was gone. He’d left his knapsack there. That wasn’t incriminating in the least. I threw on a black leather jacket and headed out to Misery. Garrett was back, sitting in his truck across the street. I paused, glanced around for Reyes, then opened my door and climbed in.
My cell rang as I turned the ignition.
“I need to speak with Charlotte.”
I didn’t recognize the male voice. “This is Charley.”
“This is Donovan.”
Nor the name. “Donovan?” I backed out and headed for the interstate. Garrett followed, naturally. How did he miss Reyes?
“From the mental asylum.”
I was in a mental asylum? When the fuck did that happen?
“The abandoned mental asylum that you break into on a semi-regular basis?” he added when I didn’t respond.
“Oh, right. The bikers.”
“Right,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“Sure.” I wondered if Rocket had finally taken down the building.
“Artemis,” he started, then stopped.
I could hear the pain in his voice, and my heart seized. “Is she okay?”
“No. Apparently the poison did more damage than we’d thought, and when she was playing with you yesterday, she ruptured a kidney. She’s at the animal hospital now.”
A hand rose to my mouth before I could stop it. “Oh, my god, I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not blaming you.” His voice cracked and he had to catch his breath. “I want to hire you.”
“What?”
“I want to know who did this,” he said, a chilling resolve hardening his voice. “And either you can find out, or I can.”
I assumed his methods would be a tad more brutal than my own. “No offense, but you can’t afford me.”
I was about to say I’d do it for free when he countered with, “I can afford ten of you.”
“I’ll find out. I’ll try to get over in the next couple of days. Don’t start without me.”
“That’s not soon enough.”
Darn it. “Okay, let me think.” I had to run out to Corona to be interrogated for murder. Other than that, my day was fairly open. “Barring an arrest, I can be there this afternoon. Are you going to be home?”
“I can come to you,” he said, “right now.”
“I’m headed out of town on a case. I’ll come there. I need to look around the neighborhood and ask you about your neighbors anyway.”
With a sigh of resignation, he agreed. “Okay. But if you’re not here this afternoon, I’m looking into this myself. I only called you because Eric wanted me to. He thinks you’ll have better luck.”
I assumed Eric was one of his gang members. Obviously one of the smarter ones.
“I’ll be there. I promise. Will you let me know if anything happens to her?”
“Sure.” He hung up without further ado. Why would anyone do such a thing? My heart broke. I could almost feel the guy’s pain through the phone connection, which would be a first.
I swung by for a mocha latte, then pointed Misery south when Garrett called. I almost didn’t answer, but he’d only call back.
“Where we headed, Charles?” he asked, a grin in his voice.
“Nova Scotia.”
“Looks like we’re headed back out to Corona. You really liked that burger, didn’t you?”
“Farley Scanlon was murdered last night.”
“Damn, you get around.”
“The sheriff’s office wants to talk to us.”
“Can a sheriff’s office really talk?” he asked, stepping up his game. He’d have to if he wanted to keep up with the likes of me.
“Good-bye, Swopes.”
“Wait, where were we?”
I made sure the sigh of annoyance I exhaled was blatant enough, even a child could understand. “Is that a trick question?
“Oh, right, number two. Ready?”
Of course, the list of things one should never say to a grim reaper. I blew out another breath for good measure. “Hit me.”
“This relationship will be the death of me.”
“Okeydokey,” I said before hanging up. Freak.
I called Uncle Bob on the way to fill him in on the situation. “I have to be honest with you,” I said when he answered, “I’m not sure you’ll ever get a woman with that haircut you insist on sporting.”
“Is that why you called?” he asked, only slightly miffed.
“Pretty much. And I might be charged with murder. Just wanted to let you know.”
“You murdered someone?”
Why do people always assume the worst? “No, I might be accused of murder. Big difference, Ubie.”
“Oh, how’s the missing wife case?”
“It’s there and yet nowhere. The guy won’t leave his danged house.”
“What can I do?”
“You can call Cookie. She’s swamped, trying to get information. We need to know where all his property holdings are. He could have Teresa held hostage somewhere. Also, I’d like to know what happened to Xander Pope’s daughter. Find out if she’s okay.”
“Xander Pope?”
“Yes. Yost could have hurt her.”
“In what way?”
“No idea. That’s why I have Cookie checking into it.”