“Nobody rattled your cage,” it snarled, the voice breaking up in its throat. “Shut your face, or someone will shut it for you.”
Ledger could see Wren out of the corner of his eye as the dark-haired man leaned forward and braced his hands on his knees.
“Maybe,” he said with a smirk. “It won’t be you, though.”
Ledger gestured at Wren to stop. He stepped between him and the dead thing to catch its attention.
“You’d gotten to how you heard about the deed,” he said. “Still have to answer how yougotit.”
The thing chewed on the air for a moment. “I called in a favor from an old friend,” it said. “They flew over, killed her, and brought it back for me. Fucking waste of time. Ticket to the big boys’ table? Once I put feelers out, there was one interested party, and all your backwoods zombie boyfriend would cough up was a couple of months.”
“A year,” Wren said. “It’s not nothing.”
Ledger turned and gave Wren a frustrated glare. It wasn’t the time to argue semantics with the thing.
“I got fifty years of health for one teenager’s heart,” the thing said. “Fifty years. You gave me twelve months of pain.”
“Healing isn’t under the boss’s remit,” Wren said. “Or mine. Kind of on the wrong side of the aisle for that one.”
No more than three questions. Ledger bit the inside of his lip and held back the words that wanted out. He hadn’t gotten to where he was by ignoring free warnings. They were few and far between. Most people in his line of work wanted to monetize their knowledge, not give it away for free.
But he needed more, and maybe the unanswered question didn’t count.
Maybe.
Ledger wasn’t sure he wanted to risk that. He’d already added to his debt with Earl.
“You said you didn’t know it was a forgery…”
“She had it fucking authenticated,” the thing insisted. Some dreg of professional pride made it slip Ledger a free answer. “That was the real deal.”
“If it were the real deal, you wouldn’t have killed yourself,” Ledger said.
The thing tugged at its ear. Ledger braced himself for it to peel away from the skull underneath, but somehow it stayed attached. Something fat and white and squirmy fell out and plopped onto its shoulder. It ignored it.
“Maybe I had another reason.”
He was lying. It. Ledger narrowed his eyes. Bell had always fiddled with his ear before he lied. He’d either scratch it, tug on the lobe, or rub his finger behind it. That had been his tell for as long as Ledger had known him. Earl had apparently found that on the road.
Why, though? What did it have to gain?
That, Ledger realized.Thatwas what it was after. His curiosity. Another question. So it could die? Or something else.
“Earl,” Ledger said. “I’m done.”
Nothing happened. The thing looked around, lopsided shoulders hunched, and then slowly swung its head back around to Ledger. Its chin dropped down.
“Liar,” it forced out. “That isn’t three. Three questions. Three answers.”
“I have what I need,” Ledger said. “I don’t need any more father/son time with you.”
The thing crept forward on blood-scabbed paws. Its broken leg was visible through the raw meat of its thigh, and splinters pared off the bone where the snapped ends ground together.
“Holes or not, I know more than you,” he said. “Do you want to know why I never loved you?”
“No.”
“Ask me where the bodies are,” the thing said. It cocked its head to the side. A thick trail of snotty dark brown fluid oozed out of its nose and dripped over its teeth. “I’ll tell you.”
