“Because you’re the knucklehead who told him you can see ghosts.”
Chapter Fifteen
“It’s about time you showed up to the party, Coop,” Detective Stone Hawke said as Cooper, Doc, and I joined the blowhard in front of the Piggly Wiggly grocery store.
I shivered in the frigid breeze, glancing around the parking lot. Several of Lead’s police rigs were parked willy-nilly, their red and blue lights reflecting off the double glass doors and lighting up the front of the concrete block building. Short loud bursts of walkie-talkie beeps and code-word chatter spewed from open vehicle windows.
My gaze returned to our little group, where I ran into Hawke’s beady-eyed glare. What in the hell had he been meeting with Tiffany about next to the Mickelson Trail?
Before I had a chance to ask, he opened his big bazoo and said, “Good.” An oily smirk smeared across his scruffy mug. “You brought the witch along. What happened to your face? Did your flying broomstick try to beat some sense into you for once?”
Criminy! It hadn’t even been a minute since I’d climbed out of Cooper’s warm rig and Hawke was already throwing down the gauntlet, starting up right where we’d left off back in December. The condescending detective needed his nose dented in and his ego blasted to the moon. Unlucky for him, I was just the woman for the job.
Doc grabbed my wrist, tugging me closer. I had a feeling he’d noticed my balled fists.
Hawke pointed his thumb toward the store behind him. “It looks like one of Parker’s flying monkeys got loose and ransacked the bank.”
“You’re grabbing the wrong end of the branding iron, Hawke,” I warned the square-chinned Neanderthal, letting Doc hold me in my corner of the ring for now. As much as I wanted to start swinging, the bone-chilling wind was freezing my loose bits and pointy parts, not to mention that I was old-dog tired.
“That’s ‘Detective’ Hawke to you,” he said, borrowing a line from Cooper’s song and dance. “Or did you forget that I’m the law around these parts?”
“Nope. My memory is top drawer and bowl full.” I squinted up at him. “But are you feeling okay tonight, Detective Hawke?”
His unibrow wrinkled, looking like a caterpillar train wreck. “Why? Did you put another stupid hex on me?”
I probably deserved some of his ire after the nut-shriveling spell I’d previously leveled on his poor penis in the police station parking lot. But that didn’t mean I was going to put up with Hawke’s bullshit on a bitterly cold night when I’d been so rudely dragged from my warm bed.
“No hex this time,” I said with a big, clown smile.
Doc winced at the sight of my circus look. “Rein it in, Tiger,” he warned under his breath.
“What then?” Hawke squared his wide shoulders. “Let me guess, you got together with other crazy-haired hags and brewed up a nasty curse for me in your cauldron?”
Cooper cursed under his breath. “You shouldn’t have mentioned her hair.”
Cooper was right. I kept the clown smile in place while my chest grew downright hot. “No curse either. I heard a loud ‘pop’ as we walked over here, and I thought you might have finally pulled your head out of your ass.”
A loud sigh came from Cooper. “Here we go.”
“But judging by the shit I’m still hearing coming from your mouth,” I continued, on course in spite of the warning look coming from Cooper, “I can tell that big fucking melon of yours is still firmly lodged inside of your COLOSSAL COLON!” I ended extra loud, catching the attention of the other cops and probably half of Lead.
“Jesus, Parker,” Cooper muttered, but the usual snarl factor was missing from his tone.
Doc turned away for a moment to cough in his fist, which sounded a lot like a choked laugh to me. When he looked back, his eyes were a little watery yet.
“Oh yeah?!” Hawke yelled, his comeback finally showing up to the party. His face crumpled in the middle, like it was caving in on itself. “Well, you’re the one with the big, dumb, curly head!”
Really? That was the best he could do?
“Lord love a law dog,” I said back at my normal voice level while pulling off my figurative gloves. This cretin needed to learn the art of alliteration when doling out digs. “Did you invite me up here to trade insults or talk to a ghost? Because if it’s the former, I should have brought along a thesaurus for you, Detective Snollyguster.” I enunciated the trigger word Prudence had planted in Hawke’s head that fateful day in her house.
Hawke let out a series of harsh, loud barks that any German shepherd would envy. The sound of them echoed off the front of the store, making Cooper flinch, along with several members of Lead’s police posse.
Doc walked several steps away this time, keeping his back to us while he “coughed” some more.
“Parker!” Cooper stepped between us. “Knock this shit off, right now,” he said between gritted teeth.
“What?” I placed my hand over my sternum, making a show of blinking my lashes innocently. After all, it wasn’t me who’d turned Hawke into a real barking law dog. “I was just checking on something, Detective Cooper.”
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that Prudence’s mind game tickled me clear to my toes after the crap I’d put up with from the bully detective ever since the first time he’d insinuated the color of my hair reflected my intelligence. Cooper acted like he didn’t find this barking act nearly as amusing as I did. However, I had a feeling that deep inside, the steely-eyed hardass enjoyed it—a lot. Hell, I’d wager it was right up there with cleaning his guns.
“Checking what?” Hawke asked, rubbing the spittle from his chin and then scowling down at his wet hand.
The best part of Prudence’s trigger trick was that Hawke sort of temporarily blacked out while remaining conscious whenever the word snollyguster was spoken in front
