The front door lock buzzed loudly. Callie and Derek exited. No Johnny Rocks and no souls, but four hundred dollars richer.
Once they were back inside the privacy of the car Callie asked, “What was all that about?”
“He’s kept the same rented soul now for months.” He turned the key, and the engine fired.
“What? Doesn’t that defeat the point a bit?” How would someone be able to escape guilt if it was always in them? Which soul would be absolved at confession if there were no breaks? How did it stay clear which soul was which?
“Whatever he did, he says he doesn’t want anyone else to know about it or to feel it if they rent the soul.”
“That sounds like a load of bullshit.”
Derek’s laugh curled around Callie’s ears, but his arm slid behind her and pulled her close. The heater began to churn warm air. “It does. I asked the Charmer about it once.”
She leaned into the crook of his shoulder. “And?”
“He said sometimes the souls are too similar. He tries to keep it from happening, but they can become attached. The rented soul doesn’t want to leave, and Greg’s soul is fine with it, from what I understand.”
“So we couldn’t take the rented soul back?” Only now Callie realized she didn’t feel the push of heat from Johnny’s rented soul, she didn’t hear it calling for a home.
“Charmer could probably force it, but he said it’s easier to let the guy keep paying a low rate. Good for business.”
“Only the Charmer would fuck up matching the right soul for someone and then still make the guy pay.”
“Money’s money, doll.”
Given that her bank account was steadily in the black for the first time in her life, she wasn’t about to argue.
The next three stops went similarly. No guns, no souls, and no Johnny Rocks. The sun began to crawl behind the mountains. Callie would have done another energy shot, but the handful she purchased were inside her car. She stifled a yawn.
“Let’s head back to your place for a bit,” Derek suggested.
Her place. Ugh. The flashing cherries and the black body bag. “Shit. I didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“A thing happened.” Callie hesitated. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell him as much as it was she didn’t know if it even mattered anymore. Had Mrs. Rios’ known what she was talking about? Derek’s brows drew together, and it was enough to make her talk. “So a guy murdered his girlfriend and himself in the complex this morning.”
Derek’s jaw hardened, but his tone was gentle. “Damn. You know them?”
She didn’t know most of her neighbors, and rather liked it that way. “No, but supposedly the guy’s fingerprints didn’t match his file.”
Derek’s slow nod probably mirrored her own. The realization of what it meant. Of the potential impact was creeping into his cortex. “Did the police ask you anything?”
“Nah. I booked it. I only know what happened because one of my nosy neighbors was in the parking lot. The cops didn’t see me.” At least she hoped they hadn’t.
“I’ll keep an ear out on this, but we should still hit your place. A little rest isn’t going to kill you, doll.” The words were delivered with sweetness, but the slash of worry beneath them was poorly concealed.
“We have to find Johnny Rocks. Soul Charmer was worked up this morning,” she said, like this wasn’t another way to solve her own problems.
“We will. I want to peek at Adam’s phone. Might give us a lead for Nate and for Johnny.” He was confident and casual, and Callie realized she could see past both. He wasn’t lying, exactly, but the strain in his forearms and the hint of a furrow at his brow said he was worried about her.
“Fine. We can stop for a half hour or so. Then we have to get back out there.”
“Do you want to pick up your car?”
She’d almost forgotten. “You planning on leaving me?” She’d said it as a joke, but her chest tightened while she waited for his response.
“Never, doll. We’ll get it later.”
The police had been long gone from the apartment complex when they pulled into the lot. The crime scene tape only covered the late neighbors’ door now. It was almost hidden. Almost. Callie pretended she couldn’t see it, and quickly they were upstairs and inside Callie’s apartment. Derek nudged the thermostat up a few notches before Callie was more than a couple feet inside the door. She didn’t call him on it. Not like they were going to stay in the house that long. She eased off her coat, and laid it over the arm of the sofa.
Derek sprawled on the seat next to her coat. His boots nudged the edges of her coffee table, but he didn’t put them on top. “Do you have the phone?”
“Sure. I went through all the messages and the list of his contacts. He doesn’t use anyone’s name, and the texts were dollar figures and times. Only one close to anything was one asking about picking up burritos.”
She picked it up from the counter, and thumbed the screen on. “I probably wouldn’t have recognized Josh, but he’s had that same phone number since I was a kid.”
Callie took two steps toward Derek and then stopped.
One missed call.
One voicemail.
“There’s a new voicemail.” She didn’t recognize her voice. She stared at the small phone icon. Derek came to her side.
“This is good. Anyone brave enough to leave a voicemail is probably also dumb enough to leave details about what they’re buying and where.”
She held her thumb above the screen. “Right. Shall I?”
When Derek agreed, she tapped the voicemail icon and toggled on the speakerphone.
“This is a message from Nate…”
Callie didn’t hear the rest of the recording. The phone slipped from her fingers, and dropped to the carpet. She forgot how her legs worked. Her knees shuddered. Her stomach became stone. High, but packed with gristle, Callie would have known that voice anywhere.
The message
