The Curse of Tenth Grave Page 31


Kit smiled. “Anonymous tip. Works every time.”

“You know, you can cross if you’d like,” I said to Mandy. “It’s what I do. I’m a ticket straight to the other side. Straight to your family and friends who are waiting for you.”

“Are you kidding? And miss seeing Cin’s face when my husband arrests her skank ass? Not likely, sister.”

I nodded and glanced at Nguyen. He may not have been warming up to me, but I got the feeling he was becoming a believer. He didn’t offer me any praise or anything, but he didn’t glower at me when he stood and walked out. I felt like we were making progress.

“You know,” Kit said as I was leaving. “You never told me why you called.”

“Oh, right. So, yeah, thanks.”

“Thanks?”

“You know, for New York.”

“You helped to save a family.”

“But you believed in me. Even in amnesiac me. It means a lot.”

“Oh yeah? How much?”

“How much?” I asked. She had slipped into negotiation mode. “How much we talking?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Just a little information. Nothing earth-shattering.”

“What kind of information?”

She stopped and leveled a serious gaze on me. “How do you do what you do?”

Kit knew a lot. Much more than the general populace, who dismissed any notions of the supernatural as bogus. But she did not know my many titles, and I planned to keep her virginal in all things Charley Davidson as long as possible.

“Ancient Chinese secret,” I said.

“I’m pretty sure the Chinese culture as a whole would find offense in your using them like that.”

“True. And they know martial arts and stuff.”

“Yep.” We’d started for the front entrance again, but she stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. “One day, I’m going to get to the bottom of you, Charley Davidson.”

I had no idea she was into anal. “Okay, but buy me dinner first?”

8

I’m not a ride-or-die kind of girl. I have questions.

Where are we riding to?

Why do I have to die?

Can we get food on the way?

—MEME

On the way back to the office, I took the long way around and drove past the Fosters’ house. Mrs. Foster was the woman who, since there was really no way to sugarcoat it, abducted Reyes when he was a baby. When they were on the verge of being busted, they basically sold him to the monster that raised him: Earl Walker.

Since I’d been back, I made a point of driving through their neighborhood, checking for Mrs. Foster’s car, making sure they were still in the vicinity. I’d also been keeping tabs on their online activity. They had yet to be charged with not one but two abductions, and I’d need all the ammunition I could get when the time came for me to present my case to Ubie. And now that I was working with an assistant district attorney, I could include him in the fun.

Mrs. Foster was home when I drove by. I’d never actually seen her before, but I made the turn onto her street just as she was walking inside with an armful of groceries. I hated her. Seeing her didn’t change that.

Instead of taking the outside stairs when I finally made it back to the office, I pulled Misery into her carport and walked to Reyes’s restaurant, planning to enter via the back door. A soft rain, almost warm against the crisp day, misted around me and left me damp and a tad frizzy when I strolled inside and made my way Reyes’s office.

He sat behind his desk doing paperwork and didn’t look up when I walked in. So, I took the opportunity to peruse his office. It looked exactly as my father had left it, including all the family photos that lined the shelves and punctuated the other paraphernalia on the walls. Mostly cop stuff. A map here. An award there. A set of old handcuffs that sent my mind reeling in the wrong direction.

I had to get a grip. Either Reyes was affecting me even more than usual, or my fallopian tubes were about to be invaded.

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Reyes hadn’t noticed me noticing the handcuffs. He was pretty deep in thought, though I had little doubt he not only knew I was there, but also knew where my mind had wandered.

Refocusing on his office, I scanned the photos he still had up. I’d been surprised the first time I walked into it last week after being gone for so long. Everything else in our lives had been upgraded, but the bar and grill he’d left exactly as my father had kept it. Still, it was one thing to leave the restaurant the same. It was another to leave the office the same.

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