Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“Pete,” Falcon says.
“That’s a troubling look on both of you.” He crosses his arms. “Which means you’re bringing me the same. Trouble. The question is which. Your own, or are you cleaning up someone else’s?”
“I guess a little of both,” Falcon says.
“We’ve got a guy named Clifford Haynes,” I say. “He’s a registered sex offender. We found him dead at his place, throat slit. We need a time of death.”
“And discretion,” Falcon adds.
Loren sighs. “With any son of Austin Bellamy, discretion’s a given. Let’s see what we’ve got.”
We unload the bin and tote it into the exam room. We place the bag on the table and slide it off the body.
Loren doesn’t flinch. He’s seen worse. He snaps on gloves and palpates the neck.
“Neck wound,” he says. “Deep. Clean cut. Likely from a blade with some heft.”
“When?” I ask.
“Two days. Maybe three. Judging by lividity, ambient temperature… He’s been in that bed since he died.”
Falcon glances at me. “Daniela’s flowers came yesterday, you said.”
“Yeah,” I say. “And this guy’s DNA was on the card.”
Loren raises a brow. “Which means what?”
“Means it was planted,” I say. “This guy was already dead.”
Loren strips off his gloves. “You want an official report?”
I shake my head. “Unofficial is better. No paper trail.”
He studies us for a beat. “Falcon, this could be bad for you.”
Falcon shrugs. “Depends on your definition of bad, I guess.”
I ignore them both. My mind’s already spinning. Haynes is out. Which means I’m back to square one.
Reyes?
No.
Jordan?
No.
And now Haynes?
No.
“Thanks, Pete.” Falcon shakes the coroner’s hand. “Much obliged.”
“Yeah, thanks a ton,” I say.
“Sorry I don’t have better news for you boys,” he says. “I assume you want this body disposed of? Without a trace?”
“Please,” I say.
“Very well. Good luck.”
We nod and leave the office.
Once in the truck, I turn to my brother. “Whoever is behind this isn’t going to stop. We’ve still got a trail to follow.”
Falcon glares at me. “Hawk, you’ve broken into two houses in as many days. You’ve got a guy tied up in our barn. And now you’re talking about chasing another lead?”
I grit my teeth. “I’m not talking about it. I’m doing it.”
He stares at me. “What the hell happened to you?”
“You mean besides a decade of cleaning up Eagle’s shit? Besides keeping Dad’s dirt under wraps? Besides making sure no one in this family ever has to face what we really are?”
“Eagle’s shit?” Falcon shakes his head. “That was years ago, and I did the time, not you. And what are you talking about Dad’s dirt? Facing who we are? What the fuck?”
I don’t blame my brother. He doesn’t know about Eagle’s last eight years. He doesn’t know our father is a murderer.
So I sigh and bring it down a notch. “I’ve been the fixer,” I say. “Always. You know what that gets you? A front-row seat to everyone else’s disasters. I’m done.”
His jaw works. “And your plan now?”
“Stop cleaning. Start burning.”
I pull out my phone once we’re on the road. Daniela’s text is still there. Unanswered.
I hover over the call button.
I don’t press it.
Not yet.
She’s in class. She’s safe.
For now.
34
DANIELA
The hall smells like sugar and bleach.
I keep my head down. Bag on my shoulder. Keys in my fist like claws.
Jordan’s by the exit, talking to Gina. Laughing like he didn’t accuse the man I brought yesterday of stalking him. He turns at the sound of my steps.
Nope.
I pivot, cut through the side hall, slip past the vending machines and out the service door. Heat slaps my face. It’s a normal Texas afternoon.
I approach my Mustang and tap unlock on my key fob.
“Daniela!” Jordan’s voice carries.
I don’t turn.
I’m done with him for today.
I slide in, slam the door, and lock it. I throw my bag onto the passenger seat and breathe.
In. Out. Slow.
My phone vibrates.
Hawk.
A tight ache blooms under my ribs. I swipe. “What took you so long?”
“You wouldn’t believe the fucking day I’ve had.” His voice is low, rough.
“The day you’ve had?” I stare through the windshield. “Let’s talk about the day you had yesterday.”
Silence.
“Before you came over to Vinnie and Raven’s,” I say. “Did you, for example, stalk Jordan and then break into his house?”
He exhales. A long, tired sound. He doesn’t reply.
“I need the truth,” I say. “I need it now.”
Another beat. Then, “Yes.”
My throat goes tight. “Yes what?”
“Yes, I followed him. Yes, I went into his house.”
I close my eyes. The heat presses in even with the AC on. “He’s suspicious,” I say. “He thinks it was you. But as far as I know, he doesn’t have concrete proof. But why would you do all that behind my back?”
“Because you got roses wrapped in barbed wire,” he says. “Because the guy who smiles at you in class also watches you like you belong to him. I’m not leaving that to chance.”
“I told you I was pretty sure he wasn’t behind the gifts,” I say. “He’s a run-of-the-mill douchebag, not a criminal mastermind. I specifically asked you not to go after him.”