He’d had that look from the beginning. “I understand his childhood was traumatic before he left Ireland,” I murmured.
“A lot of people have crappy childhoods,” Pierce said, taking the picture and sliding the back off to look for evidence. Just the photo was in there. “Most of them don’t sell drugs or commit assaults.” He tossed the entire bundle on the sofa, where it bounced.
I couldn’t help myself. I picked it up and set the picture to rights, securing it inside the frame before setting it back down. Then I looked some more. Aiden’s kitchen held an old toaster and microwave with no dishes in the sink. The fridge revealed a couple of takeout cartons and a six-pack of beer.
Then I turned for his bedroom, which was also neat. Clothes were folded nicely in the drawers.
A male tech shimmied from beneath the bed, tugging out a red lace bra. “Thirty-Six D,” he said, bagging it before drawing out two thongs, one black and one a hot pink. “Size four and size six. This guy gets around,” the tech murmured.
“There are club bunnies,” Pierce muttered. “They think motorcycle gangs are sexy.”
I wasn’t sure about the club, but Aiden Devlin was definitely sexy. Chances were he didn’t have trouble finding female companionship. The guy could really kiss. Jealousy tried to rear inside me, and I slapped that bitch down. Not now.
Pierce’s phone buzzed and he lifted it to his ear. “Pierce.” Then his face cleared, and his eyes blazed. “Excellent. Thank you for the speed.”
I paused. “What?”
“Based on the information you provided, I finally got a warrant to dump Devlin’s phone. Guess who he has been in contact with a lot the last few months?”
I held my breath. “Who?”
“Melvin Whitaker.” Pierce smiled, and the sight was less than pleasant. “It’s time to drag them both in.” The dark amusement slid from his face like a PowerPoint animation. “That is, if we can find them.”
Chapter 32
Thunder woke me out of a dead sleep, and I sat straight up in bed to turn on the bed table lamp. Breathing deep, I leaned back against the headboard and listened to the storm. Harsh rain splattered down, pinging off the roof while the angry wind threw pine needles against the windows.
I exhaled and calmed my body. Truth be told, I loved spring storms. There was something about being safe and cozy inside while nature roared a protest to the end of winter.
Even so, I grasped the .380 auto off my bed table and padded barefoot through the bungalow to peer through the window by my front door. My relief was complete at seeing the squad car still parked by the garage.
Having a police guard really did lead to a decent night’s sleep. The unregistered weapon in my hand that I’d purchased at a garage sale years ago didn’t hurt, either. Yeah, I had a registered gun in my car and a concealed permit to carry. But I had a few more around for protection. Someday Jareth Davey was coming for me, and I wanted to be ready.
I kept the gun at my thigh while walking back to bed just as my cell phone rang. My chest compressed. Phone calls in the middle of the night were always bad.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hey. It’s Detective Pierce.” The sound of rain echoed all around him.
“This can’t be good,” I muttered, setting the gun in my drawer and reaching for the discarded jeans on the chair.
“Nope. Not at all.” Indiscernible voices came across the line. “Meet me at the morgue in fifteen minutes.”
I paused in pulling my jeans up. “No way. Uh, uh. I amnotgoing to the morgue in the middle of the night.”
He sighed. “Just wait in your car for me. I promise I won’t let the ghosts get you.”
“Wait—” But he’d hung up. Who was in the morgue? It wasn’t family or anybody I was close with, or he would’ve done the notification in person. But why me? Or had he called Nick, too? Grumbling, I zipped my jeans and threw on a blue sweater before brushing my teeth and yanking my mass of hair into a ponytail.
I ran out to my car, somewhat mollified that the cop car followed me all the way to town and to the morgue, where Pierce was already waiting, leaning against the wall by the back door and smoking a cigarette. The sight of him doing so caught me off guard. Pierce had a vice? My tennis shoes splashed up water, but it had stopped raining, so I didn’t bother with a jacket. “Those things will kill you,” I said when I approached him.
He dropped the butt into a puddle of water. “I know. I quit months ago, but this case…”
It was oddly gratifying to see that the cranky detective wasn’t so perfect. Even now, in the middle of the night, his dark blond hair was perfectly in place, the gray at his temples giving him a look of sophistication. Or maybe experience. I followed him inside the silent building. “Who is dead, Pierce?”
“How about you call me Grant after midnight?” He pressed the button for the elevator.
Right. Was he flirting? If so, he sucked at it. I lifted an eyebrow.
