Fifth Grave Past the Light Page 76

“Holy shit, Charley. You definitely should have led with that.” I heard him snapping his fingers as though getting another officer’s attention.

“Sorry, can you put out a BOLO on her car?”

“Just did. I’m looking up the license plate now. Where are you?”

“I’m headed to the bridge.”

“What bridge? The one that woman told you about?”

“Yes, she said she saw a body, blond hair, and a tattoo or a mark with the number eight on it.”

“And?”

“And, Gemma drew an infinity symbol on her wrist.”

“Are you saying you think this woman predicted your sister’s death?”

“Let’s just say she’s good. Someone is going to die under that bridge, Uncle Bob.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll send a car out. You need to get back here.”

“I’m already headed that way.”

“Charley, damn it.”

“I’m not stupid. Just send a car. I won’t do anything until your patrolman gets there.”

“Christ on a cracker, Charley, I will not survive you.”

“And call me the second you find anything. Check for her car at that nail salon. She’s such a girl. And there’s that macaroni place she likes.”

“I’m on it.”

I hauled booty toward the bridge, going 110 in a 55, hoping a cop would chase me. I could use the backup. On the way, I called Reyes.

I spoke the minute he picked up. “Reyes, I need you to find my sister.”

“How’d the meeting go?”

“Reyes Farrow, there is no time. I need you to find Gemma and protect her.”

“Okay, so what’s in it for me?”

“What? What do you mean, what’s in it for you?”

“I mean, what do I get if I find your sister and protect her from all the evil in the world?”

“Reyes, this isn’t a game.”

“And I’m not playing one. I’m asking a question.”

“Oh, my god, I don’t know. What do you want?”

“You,” he said, his voice lowering an octave. “I want you, Dutch, body and soul. I want you in my bed every night. I want you there when I wake up in the morning. I want your clothes strung across my apartment and your scent on my skin.”

Was he asking for a commitment? Now was not the time to be negotiating for drawer space. “Fine. I’m yours. Body and soul.” I swerved to pass a Pinto with a chicken coop on top. Uncle Bob wasn’t kidding.

“I mean it.”

“So do I.” I took in a deep breath. No matter how he was getting it, he was getting it. If he wanted a commitment, then I’d give him one. I’d have given him my left ovary if it meant him dematerializing and finding my sister. “I mean it. I’m yours.” The words caused a sharp tingling in the pit of my belly. “I’ve always been yours.” When he didn’t answer, I asked, “Are you there?”

“I’m here. I was just worried. After what happened with Swopes —”

“What? You didn’t think I would still want you? I assumed last night would have proved that I did. Thank you for the picture, by the way.”

“Did it help your case?”

“Yes. Or, well, it did until I showed up to pick up my client and she had morphed into an elderly man with a bad ticker and then vanished into thin air.”

“Weird how those things happen.”

“Reyes,” I said, pleading with him to understand, “the things she’s done are not exactly nickel-and-dime. Kim needs help.”

“And she’s getting it.” His tone brooked no argument. The topic was not open to debate. While those were precisely the kinds of topics I liked to debate, I dropped it in lieu of more pressing issues.

“Fine, but right now, my sister could be gasping for air beneath the hands of a murderer with an affinity for blondes.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You can’t know – Wait, why don’t you think so?”

“She looks happy to me.”

I slammed on Misery’s brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. “What? You already found her?”

“I’m not sure she was ever lost, but yeah.”

I could have kissed him. I could have kissed the ground he walked on. I could have kissed the phone he spoke through.

“Hold it. I don’t understand. How are you talking to me?” If he had gone into ghost mode, how was he still on the phone with me in corporeal mode? Then again, the last time he ghosted himself, his corporeal self still fought a demon.

“Well, I put the phone to my mouth and —”

“Seriously, Reyes, where are you? Where’s Gemma?”

“I’m at work, and Gemma’s eating the Monte Cristo I just made for her.”

“Holy shit, she’s there? She’s at Calamity’s?”

“Every ounce of her.”

“Is she alone?”

“If you don’t count the guy she’s with, she is.”

I pulled a Uey and headed back to town. “What guy? She’s with a guy?”

“Yeah, a cop. He’s must be on his lunch break or something. He’s still in uniform.”

A thick dread tightened around my chest. “Does he have three scars on his left cheek?”

“Yes, but enough about him. What are you wearing?”