The Trouble with Twelfth Grave
Page 33After the fifth call, she finally picked up. “Davidson,” she said, her voice a little edgy. A little sharp. A little irked.
“Carson,” I said back. “’Sup?”
“Okay, I’ll be right there,” she said to someone other than me. I hoped. “I’m headed into a meeting, Davidson. Is this business or pleasure?”
“It’s always pleasure when you’re involved, Kit.”
“So, business. What do you need?”
“Oh, nothing too urgent. It’s just, this woman came in with fresh cuts all over her face. It was awful, Kit. She wants to hire me, but I told her to go to the police. She said she’d already been talking to the FBI, but she was afraid for her life. She wants me to find her attacker.”
“What?” Kit said, taken aback. “We already know who attacked her. Damn it. I’ll call you right back.”
She hung up before I could say, “Okeydokey.” Thirty seconds later, Angel was back with a stunned expression on his face.
“I can’t believe that worked.”
“Told you. I should’ve gone to Hollywood. I could’ve been a contender.”
“She just dialed the number to one of the agents watching your witness.”
“In her defense, not many of their enemies can send in a departed teenager to spy on them and intercept the numbers of their outgoing calls.”
“True.” He repeated the number Kit had dialed to check on Judianna Ayers.
I called Cookie, relayed the message, then told her to work her magic. Five minutes later, as horrible as the truth of what we’d done felt, we had a location.
“No way could it have been that easy,” I said, growing worried.
“I know, right? But this is the address that came up. That number is sitting pretty right there.”
“But it’s a witness protection gig. It can’t have been that easy to get this information.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
“You know what? I’m punching a hole in their security measures. Teaching them where they went wrong. Where they need to tighten up.”
“Better you than a real enemy. Be careful, hon.”
“Okay. I’ll check it out. Thanks, Cook.”
I headed to the address Cookie gave me in the South Valley off Fourth Street. Not the best part of town. Not the worst, either. There were some really cool historic houses in the district. It gave the area a certain charm not afforded the worse parts of Albuquerque. The war zones.
I cracked open the door and listened. A TV blared from the living room, and two agents sat at a table nearby. Relief washed over me. We definitely had the right address. Now to find Judianna.
I started to sneak down the hall when I heard a soft voice behind me.
“I’ll scream,” it said.
I froze, then slowly turned to see the once-beautiful Judianna Ayers standing behind me with a toothbrush in her hand.
“I will stab you in the face.”
She held it like a weapon, her toothbrush, all piss and vinegar.
She was scared. Anyone would be. But she had not done as I’d feared. She had not withdrawn inside herself and given up. She was a fighter. And she was threatening to stab my face with her toothbrush.
I liked her.
I glanced around, wondering where she’d been thirty seconds ago. So I asked. “Where were you thirty seconds ago?”
“In the shower.”
Noting her fully clothed state, I looked her up and down, suspicion kneading my brows.
“The water in the sink doesn’t work,” she explained. “I have to brush my teeth in the bathtub.”
“So, you climbed in?”
“Okay, fine, I was reading. Do you know how loud that stupid TV is? I have to come in here to read, and, well, throw in a couple of pillows and the bathtub is pretty comfortable.” She turned on me as though snapping to attention. “But how did you get in here, and what do you want?”
Her stitches had been removed some time back. God only knew how long she’d been holed up in this tiny house with FBI agents dogging her every move.
“I was going to ask you if you killed Hector, but I can see that’s fairly doubtful considering the bodyguards.”
“Killed Hector?” she asked. She straightened her shoulders. After a moment of thought, she sank down onto the side of the tub. “Hector’s dead?”
That was a definite no to the kill theory. “Yes, hon. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine. He was an ass. It’s just … shocking.”
“I’m sure.” I sat next to her and checked out the book she’d been reading: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I knew I liked her.
“Wait, you thought I killed him?” Her skin stretched when she spoke, and some words were harder for her to pronounce, but she was healing remarkably well.
She lifted a shoulder. “He was violent, unpredictable, sociopathic.”
“Besides that? He was apparently poisoned, and if you’d keep that to yourself for a bit, I’d appreciate it. I’m not sure I’m supposed to be repeating that. Did anything unusual happen while you were together? Besides the obvious.”
“He’d been acting strange for about a month before I tried to break it off with him. Secret phone calls and meetings.”
“Another woman?”
“Oh, no.” She waved a dismissive hand. “That was a given with Hector. He never kept his liaisons a secret. No, this was different. He was … stressed. Worried. And believe you me, Hector didn’t worry about anything.”
“And you have no idea what was going on?”
“Not a clue. He never talked business in front of me.”
I was having a hard time picturing this levelheaded girl, so smart and courageous, ending up with someone like Hector Felix. “How did you meet him?”
She laughed, but it was a hollow sound, full of resentment. “I was a model. He came to a show, flirted a little, and the next day I had a dozen roses show up on my doorstep along with a note saying that I was his.”
“Ah. A traditional guy.”
“It was so strange. At first it made me feel, I don’t know, wanted. Safe, even.”
“I understand that. But once you found out what he was like, why did you put up with it? With him?”
“Hector didn’t give me much of a choice. I would still be with him if he hadn’t tried to kill me one night. I decided nothing could be worse than living in fear. Not even death. So, I left him.”
“He didn’t take it well?”
“No. He did not. But I still had my career.” She lowered her head as tears formed between her lashes. “I was a model.”
I closed my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Judianna. I’m sorry Hector did this to you.”
She glanced back at me in surprise. “Hector didn’t do this to me.”
“What?”
“Oh, no. This was a message from his mother.”
I sat there speechless for a full minute until a knock sounded at the door.
One of the agents shouted through the door. “Judianna? Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine. I’m just talking to—” She looked at me. “What’s your name?”
“Let me guess,” a startlingly familiar female voice said. “Charley Davidson?”
Judianna lifted her brows in question. I could hardly shift now. I had no choice but to face the bleak, dead-of-winter music.
I nodded and stood to open the door.
“Carson!” I said a microsecond before a male agent slammed my face into the floor and cuffed me. That was so going to hurt in the morning.
16
It just occurred to me that you could substitute
Miranda rights for wedding vows. Verbatim.
—TRUE FACT
Thirty minutes later, I sat in the back of Kit’s SUV with a bag of ice on my face. Not that I needed it. I’d heal almost instantly, but it looked good.
Kit climbed in the backseat with me while her partner in crime … solving, Special Agent Nguyen, sat in front.
“Charley Davidson,” she said, opening a file she held, “as I live and breathe. You tricked me.”
“Tricked is a strong word.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Visiting an old friend.”
“An old friend who just happens to be in protective custody?”
“Weird, right?”
“I would ask how you found her, but I’m not sure I want to know.”
“You probably don’t.”
“What about how you got inside the house? A house, mind you, that has been completely compromised.”