First Grave on the Right (24 page)

He had memories? Of me? My pulse quickened.

“He said he saved your life once. Said a man had taken you into an apartment.” She leaned forward. “In case you’ve ever wondered, you weren’t going to make it out of that apartment alive. The man was going to do what he wanted and then smother you. He’d done it before.”

A jolt of anxiety rushed through me. “Reyes knew I was in danger?” I asked, finding my voice at last.

“Yes. Another time, he only
thought
you were in danger, but he said your stepmother was yelling at you in front of dozens of onlookers. You were scared and mortified. Those strong emotions are what caused him to seize. He was so outraged when he got there, so worried about you, he said he almost cut your stepmother in two just to teach her a lesson. But you begged him in soft whispers to let her be.”

With the images of that day swimming in my head, I said, “I remember. He was so angry.”

“Later, he learned how to find you without the seizures. He would go into a trancelike state just to see you, just to watch you.” She smiled, remembering happier times. “He called you Dutch.”

Shaking visibly, I released a long, labored breath. Every word she spoke only evoked more questions, an even deeper lack of understanding.

“If Reyes learned to control what he is, to harness the power he had and to use it, why didn’t he … stop your father?”

She shrugged. “I don’t think he believed it.”

My brows slid together. “I don’t understand.”

“In Reyes’s mind, it was all a fantasy. None of it was real at that time. Even you were a fabrication of his imagination, the girl of his dreams. But I knew what he did was real. When we got older, I started to research some of what he had imagined, what he’d done. Everything he told me actually happened.”

The intelligence sparkling behind Kim’s eyes belied the soft-spoken, meek woman I’d met earlier. She’d learned to hide what she was. What she was capable of. Admiration welled inside me. I would’ve loved to be friends with her in a different life. Under different circumstances. Then again, anything was possible.

“Do you know … do you know what he is?”

The question didn’t surprise her. “No. Not at all,” she said, shaking her head. “I just know he’s special. He’s not like us. I’m not even sure he’s human.”

I couldn’t have agreed more. “What about his tattoos?” I asked. “Did he ever tell you what they mean?”

“No.” Her posture relaxed minutely. “He just told me he’d always had them. Ever since he could remember.”

“I know they mean something—I just can’t put my finger on it.” I pressed a palm to my forehead as if to stop my thoughts from racing so fast.

“Are you like him?” she asked, her voice completely matter-of-fact.

I took a deep breath and refocused. “No. I’m a grim reaper.” Which always sounded so bad when said aloud. But she just smiled, wide and pretty. It took me by surprise.

“That’s what he told me. You ferry souls to the other side. He said you sparkle like a newborn galaxy and have more attitude than a rich kid with his daddy’s Porsche.”

I couldn’t keep a hiccup of laughter from escaping. “Yeah, well, he’s got a little attitude himself.”

She chuckled and folded the towel in her lap. “I think that’s what kept him going. His attitude. If he hadn’t been so strong, I don’t think he would have made it.”

My heart ached with everything Kim had told me. I wanted him to be okay. I wanted everything bad that had ever happened to him to be erased. But how could it if he didn’t wake up? “Can’t you please try to stop this?” I asked, my voice desperate.

Her fingers ironed out the creases of the towel. She’d made her decision. “Charlotte, he’s suffered enough because of me. I made him a promise. I can’t break it now, not after everything he’s done for me.”

As badly as I wanted to argue, I understood her position. I could see the love on her face and hear it in her voice. What I had originally taken for disregard was, in fact, a deep and ardent loyalty. I’d just have to put all my hopes in Uncle Bob. He knew people who knew people. If anyone could get it done, he could.

I left in the same state of surreality I’d been swimming in for days. With the passing of each hour, I learned something new, something amazing about Reyes. After searching for him for so long to no avail, the avalanche of information coming at me from all directions was a little overwhelming. Not that I was complaining. People dying of thirst don’t denounce a flood. The enigma that was Reyes Farrow became more mysterious at every turn. And I planned to find out exactly how many turns the mystery held. The question remained, however: Could I do it in twenty-four hours?

Chapter Nineteen

I may not look like much,

but I’m an expert at pretending to be a ninja.

—BUMPER STICKER

“Where are you?”

I’d just left the courthouse when Uncle Bob called. Sussman suggested I file a preliminary injunction against the state on the basis of the fabricated possibility that Reyes might be the only man alive with information on a serial killer in Kansas. I hated to pull the Hannibal card, but it was all we could come up with on such short notice. If granted, it would restrain the state from taking Reyes off life support only temporarily, but it would buy me more time. I needed another chance to talk to him, preferably without him getting too close. Without him touching me. Or looking at me. Maybe then I could get some solid intel. I wondered if I could restrain him somehow, tie him to the kitchen sink or something. I needed supernatural rope. Or handcuffs sprinkled with fairy dust.

“Where are
you
?” I asked back. Uncle Bob was so nosy.

“We need to get you prepped.”

“Prepped? For what? Did I agree to get prepped?” I didn’t remember agreeing to get prepped. I’d never even been to preparatory school.

Ubie exhaled loudly. It was funny. “The sting,” he said, his voice exasperated.

“Oh, right!” Forgot about that. “I just filed an injunction against the state. Can you get it pushed through ASAP? We don’t have much time.”

“Sure. I’ll call a judge I used to date.”

“Uncle Bob, we want the person you call to actually like you and want to do you a favor.”

“Oh, she liked me. Every inch.”

I paused midstride while a quiver of denial shuddered through me, then continued my walk to Misery. “Thanks, Uncle B, I owe you one.”

“One? Are you serious?”

“Um, are we keeping score? ’Cause if we’re keeping score—”

“Never mind. Just get your ass over here.”

After reviewing the plan ad nauseam with our two teams, one on the tech stuff and one on the exterior of the premises, I ran back to my apartment to get dressed for the part. I worked mostly on covering the bluish bruises I was still sporting from my most recent adventures. By the time I strolled on-scene, I looked like an oppressed librarian with sex kitten eyes and a pout that could make grown men cry.

Garrett stopped what he was doing and ogled me. I took it as a good sign, until he spoke. “You’re supposed to seduce him, not audit his taxes.”

Taking my cues from Elizabeth Ellery, I was wearing a red skirt suit with three-inch stilettos. Unlike Elizabeth, however, I had my hair pulled into a tight bun and wore glasses with thick plastic frames that screamed
anal retentive.

“Swopes, are you even male?” When he frowned in confusion, I asked, “Have you never had a wet dream about a secretary or a librarian or a German schoolmistress?”

He glanced around guiltily, making sure no one was listening.

“Bingo,” I said in triumph, then strolled over to the surveillance van. Garrett followed, so I continued to rant. “Like Benny Price wouldn’t suspect a setup if some hooch off the street dressed to entice him and get him to confess to murdering four people. Hmmm. That’s a terrific idea. And if I were feeling slightly more suicidal today, we might have gone that direction. Look around you.” I waited for Garrett to notice the two women down the block, clearly strippers, strolling into the club. “Those chicks are more available to him than tap water. I, on the other hand,” I said, indicating my businesslike attire, “am not.”

We walked to the van parked half a block away from the club and knocked.

I turned to Garrett and whacked him on the head just as Uncle Bob opened the back doors. “Major in sociology, remember?”

He shrugged, semi-agreeing, when Uncle Bob took my hand and lifted me inside. Skirt suit and stilettos. Probably not the best clothes to wear to a stakeout. I was a little worried Garrett would try to give me a boost again by grabbing my ass. Then a little disappointed when he didn’t. A girl had to get her thrills somehow.

The van dipped when Garrett stepped inside.

“We still don’t have any news from Team Father Federico,” I said to Uncle Bob. “If they can’t find him, I don’t know what we’ll do.”

“We’ll have to worry about that later,” Ubie said. “For now, let’s get this on you.” He lifted a tiny mic from a padded box. “We got the smallest wire we could find.”

“Are you for real?” I asked, appalled. “A wire? The plan is for Angel to turn on that spiffy, high-dollar camera Price has set up behind his desk. We’ll get him on tape without him even knowing it. And more important, I’ll live through this.”

“Right, but we’ve got to have some kind of surveillance,” he argued. “How will we know if you’re in trouble?”

“If I’m in trouble, I’ll get you a message.” I looked over at Angel, who’d just stepped in. He was getting excited about the plan, I could tell. And he knew exactly what to do. “Do you honestly think Price won’t have his men frisk me once he finds out why I’m there?” I leaned into Uncle Bob. “Just because I see dead people doesn’t mean I want to be dead people.”

*   *   *

Twenty minutes later, I was stepping out of a room full of half-naked chicks and fairly decent music and into the surprisingly quiet office of Benny Price. Businessman. Father of two. Murderer.

“She’s not wired, boss,” one of his bouncers said, a tall and muscled blond at whom the strippers had batted their lashes as we walked past. He’d brought me into a shadowy hall that led to Price’s office before searching me, simultaneously providing me with a rush of indignation and a rather inappropriate thrill. “She does have a video camera, though.”

Benny Price, who was sitting behind a massive teak desk, turned out to be much more striking in person than his surveillance photos had led me to believe. But in all fairness, he hadn’t been prepared for those shots and didn’t know to pose. He had short black hair and a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee. Where I lost complete respect for him was with his tie and kerchief. The tie was magenta against a sleek black shirt and pin-striped vest, and the handkerchief peeking from the vest pocket was much closer to violet. That settled it. He had to go down.

“You wanted to see me, Ms.—?”

“Mrs. … Magenta. Violet Magenta,” I said. While keeping a straight face.

The bodyguard stepped forward and placed the video camera he’d found in my handbag on Price’s desk. “She told me her name was Lois Lane.”

Sadly, I think he believed me.

Price stood and picked up the camera. His very stance was meant as a threat, meant to belittle and intimidate. I knew plenty of women his tactics would work on. I was not one of them.

I sat down opposite him as he opened the LCD monitor and played the video on the camera.

“My name is Donna Wilson,” I heard myself say from the other side. Well, not
the
other side …

“I have sent this video to ten people, including my lawyer, a coworker, and my pedicurist.” Pedicurist. I tried not to giggle. “If I do not call each and every one of these people by nine
P.M.
today, they will take the tape directly to the police. I have irrefutable proof locked in a safety deposit box that Benny Price, owner and operator of the Patty Cakes Strip Clubs, is trafficking children and selling them as slaves in foreign countries. One of the ten persons mentioned has the key to the box and will give it to the police if I do not return unharmed within the allotted time.”

Benny stood stunned for a moment before closing the monitor and handing my camera back to me. Since I seemed to have his complete attention, I started the act. Breathing heavy, I curled my fingers into my handbag—a gorgeous silk clutch Cookie let me borrow—and leveled a determined, and slightly naïve, stare on him.

Clearly, I would not win the Patty Cakes Club’s fave person of the year award. Though he hid it well, Price was angry. He forced himself to stay calm as he sat back behind his desk. “And what kind of proof do you have?” he asked, his voice like ice water.

I let my gaze dart to my purse then back up, hoping I wasn’t overdoing the nervous damsel-in-distress bit. I had to sell it, not cram it down his throat.

“I have a USB flash drive I obtained from my employer, a lawyer who was shot a couple of days ago. He said it had everything we would need to put Benny Price—you—behind bars.”

Price calmed then. The corners of his mouth twitched, and I knew he had the flash drive. Maybe he would be just stupid enough to …

He opened his desk drawer and withdrew a flash drive. “You mean this one?”

Yep. He was precisely stupid enough. While my insides were doing a Snoopy dance, my outsides were starting to panic. Angel and Sussman had stepped from the room behind Price with a thumbs-up. The camera was recording.

“Can I go watch the strippers now?” Angel asked.

With teeth gritted, I shot him a quick glare, then continued to hyperventilate. Price smiled one of those superior smiles of Mafia bosses and nursing home directors. Sussman stood back, glared at him.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Angel said. Hopping over to me, he popped open the top button on my too-tight blouse, giving Price, and hopefully the camera, a nice shot of my cleavage. Price’s gaze landed instantly on the erotic zone. Danger and Will Robinson. Distractions extraordinaire. When he looked back up, a few strands of my hair had magically fallen to frame my face just so.

I pushed up my glasses in a nervous gesture. “I can assure you, that’s not the same one.” After licking my lips slowly in thought, I said, “He handed me a flash drive.… I know it has … he said it had evidence. It was encrypted, but—”

“Perhaps he handed you the wrong one?” Price offered politely.

“No, that’s not possible. He has … I mean, he has several thousand flash drives on his desk at any given moment, but…”

“I promise you, little beauty, my man took this directly off your lawyer. Seconds after he died.”

Little beauty? What was I? A racehorse? You’d think a man who hung around beautiful women all day could come up with something a little less corny.

While I was doing my best to hyperventilate without actually hyperventilating, Price stood, walked around his desk, and leaned against it in front of me. Partly, I was certain, so he could look down his nose while watching his newest victim squirm, like watching an ant burn through a magnifying glass. But a bigger part of the partly was so he could check out the girls.

Taking advantage of the situation, Angel went for another button, an evil smirk glittering on his face. I pretended to close my blouse and slapped his hand away in the process—the little perv. Angel frowned in disappointment.

“Were you after money?” Price asked, so cool an inferno wouldn’t have melted his bravado. He gestured for blondie to leave.

I gulped, unable to meet his stare any longer—in theory—and nodded.

He reached down and pulled off my glasses. Guilt, utterly remorseless guilt, oozed off him and pooled at his feet. “And you just decided to waltz in here and demand some from me?”

“Yes. I’m … in trouble. With the deaths of the lawyers at my firm, there’ll be an audit.”

“Ah,” he said, folding the glasses and placing them on his desk. “And you’ve been a naughty girl.”

“You … killed them? It was you?” Without raising my chin, I looked up at him through my lashes. He seemed to enjoy it.

“Of course not. I have men for that.”

Damn. Could he be any more evasive? I needed a confession, not a paltry assertion any lawyer worth his weight could weasel him out of.

I struggled to get to my feet, but he was ridiculously close. I brushed against him, making sure my shoulder grazed over his erection. “You sent men to kill my bosses? Why would you do that?”

As with most criminals, his arrogance was his downfall. He wrapped a hand around my arm and helped me up. “Because I can.”

After sucking in an appalled breath, I tried to wrench free of his grip. I pretended to pretend like I was pretending to be confident when I said, “I’m leaving.” He had just confessed to conspiracy. No way on Earth was I getting out of that office alive.

“What’s your hurry?”

“If I don’t show up by nine o’clock tonight, you
will
go to prison.”

Price glanced at his watch, then pulled me closer, encircled my waist with his arms. “That gives us almost three exquisite hours to find out who your friends are.”

Oddly, I was finding it easier and easier to act afraid. With a toss of my head, I gave Angel the signal. He nodded and took off, but Sussman stood there, cemented to the spot, a peculiar hatred seething in his eyes.

“So, in answer to your question, yes, I did kill those three lawyers.” He ran a finger along my collarbone, dipped it into my cleavage. “But you don’t have to be next.”

Yeah, right. I pushed against his chest all helpless-like. Seriously, how long can it take to storm into a room? All Angel had to do was tug on Uncle Bob’s tie, thus giving the signal for Ubie to send his men in with guns blazing. It wasn’t brain surgery.

“You mean we could work something out?” I asked, my voice breathy with fear.