The Trouble with Twelfth Grave
Page 38“No one’s going to see me out here,” I said, pretending to plead with him.
“That’s kind of the point.”
“They’ll never find my body. I’ll decompose and be all icky. And my ass. What’ll happen to my ass? I mean, have you seen it?”
He almost grinned, jerking me along with him as I slipped and stumbled. “It’s hard to miss in that dress.”
“Right? Cookie chose it. I can barely move.”
“I’m surprised you can breathe.”
I stumbled again, wrenched my arm free and tried to run. He easily caught me and steered me closer to the rock barrier.
“Cactus!” I yelled.
He swerved.
“Hey, did you really take out all of her men when they abducted you?”
“Yes.” He glared at me as though I were judging him. “I didn’t have a choice, Davidson. They lived. You know, in case you’re wondering if I’ve gone totally dark.”
“They may have lived, but will they ever walk again?”
“Two will,” he said with a shrug. “Eventually.”
“Who knew Davey Taft was such a badass?”
He flinched and shoved me forward. I pretended to fall, which was hard unless I actually fell. So I fell, then turned and pleaded with him. He grabbed my arm and manhandled me to my feet quite impressively.
“Your sister is looking for you,” I said, as we got closer and closer. “She can’t find you.”
“What? Why?”
“My guess? She doesn’t recognize you anymore.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you are either very good at your job or you’ve really gone bad.”
“Good. She doesn’t need to see me like this.”
I nodded in understanding. “You know, I can tell her it’s all a show. She’ll understand.”
Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he enjoyed the role too much.
“I’ll tell her you’re fine. That you’ll be back soon.”
“That’ll work.”
“If all went as planned, Cookie recorded that whole thing. I’ll make sure Agent Carson gets a copy.”
“Okay, but first, run.”
I took off again, and a gunshot pierced the air with startling clarity. I fell forward as he stalked toward me.
“I shot you in the calf.”
“Oh, I’m not dead yet?” I asked, surprised.
He leaned closer to grab my arm again and took the opportunity to stuff my phone down the front of my dress. Then he recited a number, and said, “Send it there, too.”
I fought him as he hauled me to my feet. “Whose number is it?”
“Elena’s mother.”
I limped along as he steered me behind the barrier of rocks so no passersby would happen to see me from a vehicle, but not so far that Elena wouldn’t see the job finished. That way, she wouldn’t have anyone check later.
“Okay,” I said when we came to a stop. I fell to my knees in front of him and begged, getting the bizarre impression he was enjoying it. “I just need to know. Are you shooting me in my head? Because I’m not having the best hair day as it is.”
He slid a nine millimeter out of a shoulder holster inside his jacket.
“This is going to have to be close, hon.”
I couldn’t believe it. He felt bad for what he was about to do. Fake kill me to save my life and probably his, too.
Then again, maybe he wasn’t faking.
I narrowed my eyes in suspicion.
He grinned, aimed the gun, and said, “Say hello to my sister.”
When he pulled the trigger, I realized he could have meant that in a couple of ways.
The loud crack thundered against the rock wall. I jerked my head back and collapsed onto the uneven ground. My hair would never be the same.
As he turned and walked off, I said softly, “Be careful, Taft.”
He holstered his gun and kept walking.
18
They say it’s what’s inside that counts.
I agree, but I’m keeping my hair appointment just in case.
—T-SHIRT
I waited a good ten minutes after they drove off just to make certain I wasn’t still being watched. It was a tough ten minutes. Half my face was in the dirt, being poked by all kinds of native plants. My hair covered the other half. And trying to breathe without looking like you were breathing was harder than I’d imagined. Playing dead sucked. Especially when things started crawling on me.
All that was bad enough, but when Artemis appeared, excited I was on the ground ready to play, the whole plan turned south. Thankfully she only attempted CPR once by taking a diving leap onto my sprawled body. I grunted and finally gave up the game. Mostly because a coyote had come sniffing, trying to decide if he could dig in or if he needed to wait a while longer.
I sat up, startling the ragged animal, and attempted to brush some of the dry desert dirt off. I scowled playfully at the gorgeous creature. “Not today, buddy.”
He ran off a short distance, then turned back to watch me. To calculate when his next meal would keel over for good.
After making it to a shaded boulder, I dug the phone out of my cleavage.
I put it to my ear and asked, “Did you get all that?”
“Charley, damn it.”
I got that so often.
“What the hell?” she asked, clearly relieved I was still alive. “I didn’t know what to do. It’s been an hour since the gun went off.”
“Ten minutes.”
“Close enough!”
“Sorry, hon. But it was Taft. You knew I’d be okay, right?”
“No. How could I know you’d be okay? He fired a gun. Four times.”
“Yeah, I think he was enjoying that. Did you get the conversation?”
She let out a long sigh, then confirmed target was acquired. God, I loved technical speak.
I looked around, ignoring the sullen god lounging on top of the rocky protrusion I’d almost died behind, and tried to figure out how I was going to get a ride back to Albuquerque.
“At first, I was thinking Joplin, but I can’t risk all of that getting into the wrong hands. Send the whole thing to Kit with my apologies.”
“Your apologies? What did you do now?”
“Disobeyed a direct order.”
“Will she arrest you?”
“There is a strong likelihood, yes. Let her know I need Joplin to get the part about Elena killing her brother. The rest she can keep under wraps. Oh, and don’t be surprised if she raids the place and confiscates the recording.”
“I never am.”
“How much do you think a cab back to Albuquerque would cost?”
“It would be cheaper just to buy a new car. Something cool. Like a Porsche.”
Now, there was an idea.
* * *
An hour later, thanks to LoJack, Cookie found Misery. In Mexico. Most likely with the keys in the ignition, inviting grand theft auto.
I Ubered it to Juarez, which is apparently much easier than Ubering it out of Juarez. It took me a while to explain to the driver, who’d picked me up in the middle of nowhere wearing a little black dress, ankle-high boots, and a lot of dirt why I needed to hide in his trunk, but my passport and other paraphernalia were in my purse in the very Jeep I was headed toward.
At least it was if they didn’t take it, but since the whole point was to prove I’d gone to Mexico and gotten myself dragged off and killed, never to be seen again, it would’ve been stupid for them not to leave it.
I promised him a huge tip, as in four figures, if he’d let me rest in his trunk. He was worried we’d get caught, but I assured him we wouldn’t. If they did happen to open the trunk, which was unlikely, I’d just shift onto the celestial plane. I’d vanish.
He totally didn’t believe me, though. Not the part where it was unlikely they would open the trunk but the part where I could shift onto the celestial plane and become Invisigirl. Strange how nobody believed that shit.
My other choice was, of course, to shift and go across incorporeally, but I still didn’t trust the whole teleportation thing. I once had a nightmare where I’d shifted and tried to go on vacation in Ireland, only to materialize in the center of the sun. Probably because I had a nuclear-powered furnace asleep beside me.
On the plus side, I’d get a great tan.
We found Misery sitting alone on a dusty street with more than one hungry pair of eyes watching her. Just in case someone on Elena’s payroll was still there, I paid a ten-year-old girl to steal it for me.
She picked me up a few blocks away, and I paid her and the driver, then headed back across the border, thankful I kept a hidden stash underneath Idris, my driver’s seat. A hidden stash that contained my passport, five thousand in cash, and a travel-sized box of Cheez-Its.