The Curse of Tenth Grave

“Lyle,” I said, trying to calm him down. “I swear to you, I’m on your side. I’m just trying to stay one step ahead of the detective on this case, because he’s good. Make no mistake about that.”

He sat back in his chair, his eyes watering before he squeezed them shut and rubbed them with his thumb and index finger. I could feel the frustration rolling out of him in waves.

“Lyle.” I used my mommy voice. When he looked at me, I said, “I am your best bet of beating these charges. It’s what I do. The people who hired me know that, so cut the bullshit and let me help you.”

His mouth thinned into a straight line, but he scrubbed his face with his fingers, the chains clinking with his every move, then nodded. “I wasn’t even supposed to be in town.”

“That’s right. You were supposed to be at your father’s wedding in Florida, but you decided to stay?”

He took a moment more to calm down, then explained. “I couldn’t go. I went to the airport, parked my truck, caught the shuttle. I had every intention of going, but when I went inside, I just couldn’t. Something didn’t feel right.”

Now we were talking. “What?”

“Emery. She’d been upset maybe? Distant? I don’t know how to describe it, but for about two weeks before she disappeared, she hadn’t been herself. She swore nothing was wrong, but I could feel her pulling away.”

I knew the feeling.

“Besides, that was my dad’s fifth marriage. There comes a time when a son has to put his foot down.”

I grinned. “I agree. Parents,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Now that we were getting somewhere, he let me question him for the next hour with no further outbursts, though he did mention that he was going to strangle me when I cleared him of all charges, just for the principle of it. I did have a tendency to push people to mayhem and violence.

But he explained everything. Everything I could see Detective Joplin throwing at Parker, Fiske could explain. I couldn’t help but feel like Joplin jumped the gun on this one. Open and shut isn’t always wide or tight. There are subtleties in every case. Discrepancies that can sway a jury to one side or the other. I was certain that even with all the circumstantial evidence against Fiske, his lawyer could get him acquitted. But he would definitely need more than a public defender. If Parker was serious about helping his friend, he should have started there.

“They’re going to move you to the detention center soon. I’ll come out when I know more.”

He nodded.

“One last thing,” I said just before the guard showed me out. “How long ago did she ask you to download the Find a Friend app for your phone?”

“A little over two weeks ago. When she started pulling away almost to the day.”

Interesting.

“I was going to propose,” he said, stopping me again. “When I left the airport, I was going to propose, but I couldn’t get ahold of her.”

“How many times did you try to call her?”

“At least a dozen. I left message after message and texted her more than that. They said that was my motive. That I couldn’t find her so I thought she was cheating, hunted her down, and killed her.” His voice broke on the last word.

As did my heart.

* * *

I stopped in at Uncle Bob’s office to give a shout, but he was in a meeting. So I left a message on his desk asking him to call me. I wanted to ask him what he knew about the Emery Adams case. Reports were one thing, but a seasoned detective’s gut instinct was another.

I finished up my message by drawing little hearts all over a piece of paper that, about halfway through the fifth heart, I realized was an arrest warrant. An arrest warrant I calmly folded and pushed aside before writing the same message on an actual memo pad. Who knew he’d have something like that on his desk?

Afterwards, I went in search of the first officer to respond to Lyle Fiske’s call after he found Emery’s car, only to find out his shift didn’t begin until later. Still, I had plenty to get me started. I left the station more determined than ever to find who killed Emery Adams. It could be the only way to get the charges against Lyle dropped. And I was headed to do that very thing when I saw Garrett’s truck in the parking lot. With him in it.

Garrett was a former soldier turned bond enforcement officer turned certified member of Team Beep. He’d been with us through hell and high water, and I owed him so much. Mostly, a thank-you.

I walked over to him and had to knock on the window even though he clearly saw me. It was spitting snow, and I got the feeling he was enjoying what it did to my hair.

He finally grinned and rolled down the window.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, suspicious. “Are you following me?” We’d been down this road before.

“Not this time, sweet cheeks.” He graced me with a lopsided grin. Asshole. He knew what that grin did to people. Mostly people of the female persuasion.

“But you are on a stakeout, yes?”

“Sort of.”

He no longer worked for the bonds company unless it was a special request or Javier, his old boss, was just shorthanded, so I asked, “For whom?”

“Your mama,” he said, flashing me the same grin.

“You can talk to dead people, too?”

A soft chuckle rolled out of his chest. “Not hardly.”

Uncle Bob walked out then with two uniforms and a perp in cuffs. Garrett zeroed in on them, and I wondered who the perp was. He’d clearly already been arrested, so what was there to watch?

That fact nudged something inside me as not being quite right, but I decided to drop it. If he had wanted me to know, he would’ve told me. If I had wanted to know, I would’ve bombarded him with questions until he caved. I did that.

“I’m glad I saw you,” I said instead.

He gave me a suspicious glance. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I just—I thought—I wanted to thank you.”

That time he laid the full power of his silver gaze on me. “For what?”

“For, you know, New York.”

“Well, you’re welcome, but I haven’t given it to you yet.”

That time I laughed. “You were there for me, and I’m really grateful.”

He stared a long moment, one wrist resting loosely on the steering wheel.

I broke the silence first. “I just wanted to thank you.”