a Stephen King’s
His mouth thinned. “I
No way. For reasons known only to him, Owen Vaughn tried to kill me in high school. With an SUV. Though he later told the police he was only trying to maim me, he refused to tell them why. I’d apparently rained buckets on his parade, but for the life of me, I never figured out what I’d done.
I decided to play it cool. No need to throw past criminal activity in his face. Time to let bygones be bygones. Mostly ’cause he had a gun and I didn’t.
I smiled and socked him in the arm like we were old friends. “Long time, no see, Vaughn.”
It didn’t work. He tensed, took a moment to examine the place where my fist had made contact, then let his gaze wander back to me, zero in on my eyes like he wanted nothing more than to strangle the life out of them.
Awkward.
Then I remembered he’d been friends with Neil Gossett in high school. I’d recently become reacquainted with Neil, and decided to use that bit of info to break the block of ice Vaughn was encased in. “Oh, hey, I just saw Neil the other day. He’s the deputy warden at the prison in Santa Fe.”
“I know where Neil Gossett is,” he said, the contempt in his voice undiluted. “I know where all of you are.” He leaned toward me. “Don’t ever doubt that.”
I stood in shock a solid minute as he turned and walked to his patrol car. Cookie stared, too, her jaw slightly ajar as she watched him drive away.
“He didn’t even check the trunk,” she said.
“Is it just me,” I asked, gazing at his disappearing taillights, “or was that a really stalkery kind of thing to say?”
“What the hell did you do to him?”
“Me?” I placed a hand over my chest to demonstrate how much her words hurt. “Why do you always assume it’s my fault?”
“Because it always is.”
“I’ll have you know that man tried to maim me in high school. With an SUV.”
She turned to me then, her expression incredulous. “Have you ever considered moving to another country?”
“Oddly, yes.”
“Trunk. Dead body.” She walked to the car and unlocked the trunk lid.
I dived toward her, closing the lid before the dead guy could see me.
“I knew it,” she said, backing away from the car again. “There’s a dead body in the trunk.”
Trying to shush her with an index finger slamming against my mouth repeatedly, I whispered, loudly, like drunks do in a singles bar, “It’s not a dead body. It’s a dead
Suddenly her expression turned accusing. “You were going to let me drive around with that guy in my trunk forever.”
“What?” I said with a snort. “No way. Well, not forever. Just a few days, until I figured out who he was.”
She stepped forward until we stood toe to toe. “That is wrong on so many levels.” Then she turned and started walking home.
Darn it. I jogged up behind her, marveling at how much ground a large pissed-off woman could cover in so short a time. “Cookie, you can’t walk home. It’s still dark. And we’re on Central.”
“I would rather meet ten bad guys in a dozen dark alleys than ride in that car.” She pointed behind her without missing a step.
After doing the math in my head, I asked, “What about dark parking lots? Or dark breezeways? That would be scary, too, huh?”
She trod onward, continuing her noble quest to avoid the departed by getting herself knifed for the five dollars in her back pocket. While I couldn’t quite see the logic, I did understand the fear. Wait — no, I didn’t.
“Cookie, I have dead people around me all the time. They’re always in the office, sitting in the waiting room, hanging by the coffeepot. Why is it suddenly a problem now?”
“That’s just it.
“I probably shouldn’t tell you about the little boy in your apartment, then, huh?”
She skidded to a halt, an astonished expression on her face.
“No. Right. Forget I mentioned it.”
“There’s a dead boy in my apartment?”
“Not all the time.”
She shook her head, then took off again, and I found myself struggling to keep up with her in my bunny slippers. With a sigh, I realized I was getting way too much exercise. I’d just have to counteract it later with cake.
“I can’t believe I have a dead boy in my apartment and you never told me.”
“I didn’t want to alarm you. I think he has a crush on Amber.”
“Oh, my god,” she said.
“Look,” I said, grabbing her jacket and pulling her to a stop, “let’s just get your car home, then I’ll deal with this. We can’t leave it there. Someone will steal it.”
Her eyes lit up. “You think? No, wait, maybe I should go back and put the keys in it. You know, make it easier for them.”
“Um, well, there’s an idea.”
She took off toward her car, a new purpose driving her. I was only a little worried. At least she was going in the right direction.
“If you don’t count that time I went skinny-dipping with the chess club,” I said, only a little out of breath, “this has been the busiest night of my life.” I looked up in thought, tripped, stumbled, caught myself, then glanced around like I’d meant to do that, before saying, “No, I take that back. I think the busiest night of my life was the time I’d helped my dad solve the mystery of a gas explosion in which thirty-two people died. Once the case was solved, they all wanted to cross. At the same time. All those emotions swirling inside me simultaneously took all night to get over.”
Cookie slowed her stride but had yet to look my way again. I could hardly blame her. I should’ve told her about the little boy long ago. It wasn’t fair to blindside her with that kind of information.
“If it hadn’t been for that man who saw a college student vandalize the gas pipes, that case may never have been solved. But I was only seven,” I explained, hoping to distract Cookie with small talk. “I had a hard time understanding it all. Hey, at least your car’s safe.” I pointed to it.
She strode to her Taurus then turned toward me. “I’m sorry, Charley,” she said.
I paused and offered a suspicious glower. “Are you about to make a tuna joke? ’Cause I had my fill of those by the time I was twelve.”
“Here I am freaking out over a dead body in my trunk—”
“A dead guy. Guy.”
“—and you’re just doing the best you can. You never told me that story.”
“What story?” I asked, still suspicious. “The explosion story? That was nothing.” I’d just told her about it to take her mind off all the dead people running amok.
“Nothing? You’re like a superhero without the cape.”
“Aw, that’s really sweet. What’s the catch?”
She chuckled. “No catch. Just tell me there’s not a dead body in my trunk.”
Reluctantly, I took the key and lifted the trunk lid. “There’s not a dead body in your trunk.”
“Charley, you can be honest. It’s okay.”
I blinked in surprise. He was gone. “No, really,” I said, scanning the area. I took a step back for a better look and ran into something cold and unmoving. The temperature around me dropped, sending a chill down my spine. It was like walking into a freezer, but I didn’t want to alarm Cookie. Again.
