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Authors: Julie Mangan

The Devil Makes Three (26 page)

BOOK: The Devil Makes Three
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I cringed, trying not to think about her condition. “You mean it was her family’s bail bond company that put up the bond?”

“Yes. More specifically, she herself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Her father left on vacation Friday morning. Katie wrote the bail bond herself, letting Richard the Shark out.”

“And she was the one you were looking for? Not me?”

“Yes. I got to her place just as she pulled out this afternoon, and followed her to you, then both of you to the thrift store.”

“So you saw what happened then?”

“I saw the two of you rush back to the car and had to haul ass to keep up with you. You didn’t rob the place, did you?”

I shot him a contemptuous glare. “A thrift store? How lucrative could that be?”

“Just checking. Anyway, I got pushed into oncoming traffic by the SUV, but escaped without an accident. Unfortunately, that was about the same time you two rammed the pole, and the other car hit the cement barrier. That’s when I lost sight of the SUV.”

“I see. You didn’t stop out of concern. You just had nothing better to do.”

His eyes softened, losing their considering glow. “No. I would have stopped anyway.”

His expression made me purse my lips and glance back at the EMT in an effort to get away from his eyes. I knew that look. I’d seen it on both Collin’s and Corbin’s face and it usually preceded a display of affection.

Oh goody.

Pushing away the EMT’s hands, I palmed the syringe on the ground and sat up. I pushed myself to my feet slowly. Both men protested and stood with me, trying to lay me back down.

“Take your hands off me!” I said, shrugging them away. “I’m fine. You said so yourself.” I poked at the EMT with a finger and he nodded in concession.

“You’re better than your friend anyway, but you still need to get checked out.”

“I don’t need a doctor. I’m fine.”

I had a moment to stash the needle in my pocket while the two men glanced at each other and silently arranged resistance. Not that it would do them any good. I had plans for when I got out of this situation. I was not about to take this assault lying down now that I knew where to find her, and I wasn’t about to wait for help in the shape of Corbin. I hadn’t heard from him since Friday night, and for all I knew he was having one of his extended out-of-body, out-of-existence, experiences. 

After filing a police report, claiming I didn’t know exactly what happened, Cohen drove me home. He didn’t say anything about my lie. Maybe he believed it, but I doubted it. I got the feeling his acceptance of the whole situation was a bad sign. But what exactly I was supposed to say, I didn’t know. I couldn’t very well tell the truth without bringing Corbin into it.

He dropped me at the funeral home, offered to walk me to my door, and acted unsurprised when I turned him down. Instead, he simply watched me until I walked into the garage and out of his sight before turning the car around in the driveway, and heading back out into the world.

Once he left, I crossed the parking lot and entered the funeral home. I still had a few hours before my shift began and my father sat in the office, finishing up some paperwork.

“Dad, can I borrow your car?”

He looked up at my request. “Why are you covered in bandages?”

“I was in a car accident today. But I’m okay. The car?”

“A car accident? What happened?”

I made up a quick lie and pressed the issue of the car. Finally, with obvious hesitation and many reservations, he tossed me the keys.

“Twice in three days. This is some sort of record,” he said.

“Yeah. I know. But it’s important.” I blew him a kiss, hoping the next hour went well, and it wasn’t the last time I would see him.

The thrift store was closed when I got there, but the SUV sat parked at the rear door. It was probably too much to ask of karma for the door to be unlocked, but I tried it anyway.

It opened.

Taking a step inside, I took the syringe out of my pocket and uncapped it then drew the plunger back, filling it with air. Once prepped, I pulled my sleeve over my hand and crept forward.

I could hear them in the office. The sound of her heels clicking rhythmically against something metallic reassured me and disgusted me at the same time. She was also a screamer, though not a very convincing one. They didn’t know I was there.

The employee bathroom was just inside the backroom by the exit and I waited behind the door for her. It felt like forever, but still I waited, anger boiling up inside me and my hatred for the woman multiplying like rabbits.

Without warning, the bathroom door closed a fraction and Corbin stepped around it. My breath caught in my throat from fear, then relief. From there a bit of hysteria leaked from my simmering temper.

He didn’t say a word, and neither did I. Automatically, I fell into his arms and shuddered against his shoulder. His arms enveloped me, cradled me close, his strength lending peace to my frayed nerves. Beyond the bathroom the sounds of their debauchery continued, yet I ignored it, simply immersing myself in his presence, forgetting everything else.

His hands and arms loosened and I felt his fingertips trail over my bandages. His lips brushed my hair sending shivers over my body. Cuddling up against his chest I ran my hands over his muscles, up his chest then down his arms, wishing he weren’t wearing the duster. As if reading my mind, his hands found mine and he intertwined our fingers for a moment, then he slipped the syringe out from my sleeve and up his own.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, dipping me backwards slightly so his lips rested against my ear, then he trailed his mouth down my neck, sucking intermittently as he made his way to my shoulder.

His lips were so talented I had to think for a moment why I was there, then it came back to me, making me want to cry again. “She burnt down my apartment and hurt Katie.”

“I know.”

“And her recklessness caused two deaths.”

“I know.” He slipped my sleeve down my shoulder and followed it with his lips while he snaked his empty hand up my side, pressing me back against the wall. “But you still shouldn’t be here. I will take care of Candy.”

“Like you did before?”

“No!” he said, rising up to my mouth and kissing me forcefully. Softening after a few moments, his tongue caressed my lips and my mouth opened, allowing him to explore further. Taking his tongue between my lips, I sucked gently and he groaned.

The screaming and clicking of Candy’s heels stopped and Corbin abruptly pulled away from me. He covered my mouth and pulled me from the bathroom, forcing me towards the back door. “Go home,” he whispered almost silently. “I’ll meet you there after I take care of my business with Candy.”

“I’m staying with you,” I hissed.

He shook his head and snatched a quick kiss from me, then pushed me closer to the door. “Go.”

I resisted for a moment more, but the sound of laughing and footsteps made up my mind in his favor. Darting to the door, I slid out into the fading sunlight.  

#

I didn’t feel like going home immediately. Instead I went to the hospital and checked on Katie. The hospital staff didn’t let me in to see her, but her mother came out of her room and spoke with me briefly, expressing concern for my own well being, as well as for her daughter.

She seemed like a perfectly normal parent. No one I would ever suspect to get mixed up with Corbin and his dastardly deeds. But then, perhaps it was just Katie and her father mixed up with him, rather than it being a family affair.

When I got back to the funeral home, I found a government vehicle in the parking lot. It looked suspiciously like Cohen’s car. Immediately I went into a massive anxiety attack, certain I had left the thrift store covered in fingerprints. Sitting in my father’s car I took deep breaths, working on a solution that didn’t end up with me in the electric chair or fleeing to a developing nation.

Bucking up, I decided to deal with him before I called Corbin and informed him of the situation. After all, if they were one and the same, then Corbin probably wouldn’t answer until Cohen was away from others.

“Gretchen, you remember Agent Cade.” My father said from his seat behind the desk, when I entered the funeral home office.

“Hello,” I said, trying to hide my skittishness. I wasn’t sure if being an accessory to murder was just as bad in the eyes of the law or not, but I really didn’t want to find out. Whatever had possessed me to act so rashly? I never should have gone back to the thrift store.

“Hello.” Cohen stood and approached me, making me step back towards the door. I’d been close enough to him only hours before. I didn’t need more of it. Not unless he spontaneously decides to turn into Corbin, then he can come as close as he wants, I thought.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

“I’ve come to tell your family the news,” Cohen said.

“What news?”

“They found Martins’ murderer,” my father said.

“Oh?” Immediately my heart began to pound, worrying for Corbin’s safety.

“Yes,” Cohen said, approaching me again, slowly. “I thought your family might like to know his case was closed around 6:00 this evening.”

“How?”

“A confession was found.”

“Found? What do you mean? Who did it?”

“It would seem that Richard the Shark had some ties with Benjamin Toomey. Do you know that name?”

I nodded. Benjamin Toomey was one of the bigger fish that Martins had ratted on. It had been all over the news at the time of his murder.

“Well it would seem that Benjamin paid Richard some significant amounts of cash just prior to, and following Martins’ demise. It would also seem Martins had his own dealings with the Shark, and fell behind on a few payments.”

My mind raced, certain the whole relationship had been orchestrated by Corbin. Had he left any holes in the plot? Then, I remembered Martins words before we killed him, asking if we worked for the Shark. Everything fell into place. “Uh, Richard told you this?” I asked, trying to keep my pure understanding of the situation unknown.

“It’s what the note said.”

“Note?”

“Agents found Richard dead in his apartment today. Apparently he’d been there since late Friday evening, judging by his state of decay. He hung himself with his bed sheets and had a note pinned to his shirt.”

My vision darkened and my stomach flipped. Before I could stop myself, I found my head under my father’s desk, puking into a garbage can. I didn’t even remember moving across the room.

#

With a pleasant farewell on my father’s part, Cohen left the building, leaving me to recover in solitude. Unfortunately, I didn’t recover fast enough to get out of the office before my father returned.

“Is there anything I should know?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

“What?”

“Agent Cade. I’m not dumb Gretchen. I don’t think it’s standard procedure to relay information like that to the family of the victim’s victim.

I swallowed back the last of my stomach acid and breathed deep. “What are you implying?”

“Brothers? Twins more like. Tell me you’re not playing them against each other. That’s not nice, Gretchen.”

“I’m not. Maybe Cohen likes me, but I’m not responding to his attentions. I swear.”

My father nodded. “Alright. Is there anything else I should know?”

I shrugged. “Cohen, I mean Agent Cade, thought I might have had something to do with Martins’ death, but I was able to exonerate myself.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I glanced up and met his eyes. “Is that something you really wanted to hear?”

He stared for a moment then shook his head. “Of course not. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have been told.”

Standing up, I held the garbage can in front of me and moved to the door. A numbness slid through my body as my only available reaction to the situation. All other reactions were simply unacceptable after the scene I had already caused. “It’s all over now. They know who did it, and know I didn’t. Let’s let those rats bury each other.”

My father blocked my path for a moment, but moved aside after consideration. “On a different note, your mother hopes now that you’re living here, you might let her visit you sometime.”

“Why does she want to do that?”

“Visit her own daughter? Gee, I don’t know. Why on earth would anyone want to do such a thing?” His tone bordered on scathing, but also had a hint of sympathy to it. “You know Gretchen, you don’t have to shut people out. You’re not responsible for what happened.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I said, reluctant to assess his meaning. Instead, I moved out into the hall and pulled the office door shut behind me, then slowly made my way to the janitor’s closet.

#

I gargled with some of the water from the janitor’s closet sink and felt some relief from the puke-breath, but wouldn’t feel completely better until I’d brushed my teeth and then eaten something. I left the freshly cleaned garbage can in the hall and took the back door out to the grounds, bumping into Cohen on the bottom step of the landing. With a gasp, I backed up and clutched my hand to my chest.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to shock you.” He smiled.

Even though the words sounded sincere, something told me he was laughing beneath the calm façade.

“What do you want now?” I practically shouted.

Cohen reached into his pocket and pulled out a small paper bag. Handing it to me, our fingers brushed and he smiled. “Really, I came to see you. I didn’t think about running into your father, but he appreciated the news about Martins. I thought you might like this back. After all, it’s not like you can get prosecuted without the proper evidence.”

In the bag, I could feel the shape of a gun.

“Plus, someone went to a lot of trouble to get it for you. Whoever they are might be grateful I gave it back to you.”

“I don’t need it.” I said, trying to hand it back. Raising his arms in an opposing fashion, he backed away.

“Law enforcement is the last place you want that gun to end up, Honey. As things stand, certain people will ask questions anyway, but there’s little they can do.”

“What kind of questions?”

BOOK: The Devil Makes Three
7.16Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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