hospital.
No, he didn’t know to look for a gold Pontiac.
He certainly didn’t know to look for a purple Gremlin.
Why the heck would a car company call a car a Gremlin?
“Earth to Kavanaugh,” Jeff was saying.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m a little tired.”
I saw his hand twitch on the steering wheel, like he wanted to maybe reach out and touch me but stopped himself in time.
I studied his profile. Even though he was a couple inches shorter than me and possibly way too old, he wasn’t a bad-looking guy if you looked close enough. The salt-and-pepper buzz cut made him look a little military. Hmmm.
“Were you in the army?” I asked.
His expression changed slightly; he clenched his jaw and his eyes narrowed, but he kept staring straight ahead at the road.
“Marines,” he said, so softly I had to lean over to hear him. “Gulf War.”
Suddenly this was way too much information.
“I found fifty thousand dollars in Trevor McKay’s boots,” I volunteered, eager to change the subject.
Jeff slammed on the brakes, and my body jerked forward, only to be jerked back again by the seat belt.
“Hey!” I said, clutching the dashboard.
He pointed up. “Red light. Sorry. So what was this? Fifty thousand dollars? Boots? Kavanaugh, it’s no wonder someone’s trying to ground you. Where’s the money now?”
“I left it there.”
He did look at me now, with an expression of such incredulity that I started to laugh. “You should see yourself,” I said.
His face didn’t change. “You left fifty thousand dollars in some guy’s boots in his apartment? And he’s dead? And you found a dead guy this morning? And my tires got slashed? What else?”
I managed to ease down to a couple of chuckles. “What else? What do you mean, what else?”
“I’ve never known anyone who had more things happen to her than you, Kavanaugh.”
“Why do you always call me Kavanaugh?” I asked.
He just shook his head and put his foot on the accelerator, and the car shot forward, forcing me this time against the seat back.
“Watch it!”
“Where does this guy live?” Jeff asked casually. Too casually.
I knew what he was up to.
“We don’t have a key. Kyle’s got it, and he’s all MissTique’d up at Chez Tango right about now.”
“Do we need a key?”
It was the way he said it that made me take notice. Like he
So I told him where Trevor lived.
It was late afternoon and the sun had started to fall, casting a glare across the windshield and causing me to squint. I wished I had my sunglasses, but they were in my bag somewhere with the police. I flipped down the visor, but the rays peeked underneath.
Jeff and I settled into a companionable silence on the way. I was running over all the day’s events; I had no idea what Jeff was thinking. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
I indicated the apartment complex. Jeff pulled into the lot and eased the Gremlin into a visitor’s space.
On the way up to the apartment, I stopped suddenly.
“What?” Jeff asked.
“I left Trevor’s laptop in the Pontiac,” I said. “That was stupid.”
“We’ll just stop and get it on the way back,” Jeff said. How could he be so calm and levelheaded?
We reached the door and Jeff tried the knob. Locked, as I’d said.
“Kavanaugh, you might want to turn around for this,” he said, reaching into his back pocket.
He was right. I didn’t want to see what he was going to do. I stepped away from the door and leaned my back against the wall just to the left of it, eyeing the Gremlin in the lot. It really was an ugly car, and it had been a rather bumpy ride. The Pontiac was much smoother. But then again, it wasn’t half a car.
I was so distracted by the Gremlin that when I heard it, I didn’t recognize it for what it was, and all of a sudden Jeff Coleman was on top of me, forcing us both to the ground, his arms around me, my head shoved against his neck.
The second gunshot registered.
Chapter 35
I could feel Jeff’s heartbeat against my chest, going in synch with mine. My face was smothered, and he smelled like cigarettes and ink and baby wipes. Comfort smells.
And then I felt his hand in a place where I never wanted Jeff Coleman’s hand to be.
I tried to shrug him off, but his grip grew tighter.
“They’re shooting at us from inside the apartment,” he whispered, his breath tickling the side of my face.
“Who?”
“This is your movie, Kavanaugh, not mine. You tell me.”
I had a flash of Rusty Abbott’s warning that accidents happen.
But an accident is falling off a ladder, getting hit with a baseball, having a fender bender.
It’s not being shot at outside a dead drag queen’s apartment.
At least not in my world.
“We have to get out of here.” Jeff was still whispering.
“How?” I was afraid if we got up, they’d start shooting again.
Before he could answer, however, we heard the sirens. One of the neighbors probably had heard the shots and called the cops. Of course, whoever it was didn’t feel compelled to come outside and see what was going on.
Two police cruisers rolled into my line of vision. We were just one story up, and I could see them between the slats in the railing overlooking the parking lot. They stopped just below us. Right in front of the Gremlin. That wouldn’t do.
Another shot rang out, and while Jeff had loosened his grip a second ago, he now clutched me again. But I wasn’t caring much at the moment. I didn’t want to be in the middle of a firefight.
“You up there!”
It took a second for me to realize one of the cops was shouting up at us.
“Get out of the way!”
Right. Like that would be easy. Didn’t he think we’d be out of the way if we could? And I didn’t much like it that he was alerting those inside the apartment that we were out here, huddled on the ground.
Jeff started shimmying a little away from the apartment door. I had no choice but to shimmy along with him.
It was awkward. I was on my back, Jeff on top of me, and my movements were crablike, while his were similar to a crawl.
