He lifted his right back.
Okay. Now he was getting annoying. With a huff, I followed him onto the elevator, down a floor, and onto the morgue level. Sheets covered two bodies on the examination tables. Bile rose in my throat.
Dr. Bay Mandi looked up, his eyes huge through goggles and his frame wiry beneath the white lab coat. He lifted the goggles. “Hi, Anna. Detective Pierce.”
We both said hi.
Pierce tugged a sheet off the face of the first body, showing a huge flat nose. A clear bullet hole was visible in the center of his forehead. “Know this guy?”
I gulped. “Yes,” I croaked. “He’s one of the two guys who shot at us the other day in front of the courthouse and then chased me away from Melvin’s and up into that tree.” When Pierce pulled the other sheet free, the room swam around me. Another bullet hole in the middle of the forehead. “That’s the other guy. The one with acne.”
My knees buckled, and Pierce grabbed my arm, steering me out into the hallway. I took several deep breaths.
Pierce pushed me onto one of several plastic orange chairs lining the hallway. “I need to know. Did you tell Aiden Devlin about these two men?”
I needed to put my head between my knees. Oh, boy. Now was the time to confess everything, and yet, maybe I should just answer the question. “Yes. Also, Spider said guys like this needed a hole in the head.” Had he been telling me something?
“And Devlin?” Pierce persisted, dropping to his haunches so we were face to face. The breezy scent of salt and ocean wafted near me.
My stomach lurched. I nodded. Aiden would never do anything like this, right? “Yes. I told him about these guys.” When we’d been having a nice dinner, and my guard was down. Way down—which ended in excellent morning sex.
“What did he say?” Pierce asked quietly.
My mind spun. “He said—he said that he wouldn’t let me be in danger, and that he’d take care of it.” It couldn’t be. Right?
“Well,” Pierce said grimly, “I guess he did.”
* * *
After returning homefrom the morgue, I couldn’t go back to sleep. So I cooked for a few hours, making meals to store in the freezer. I found comfort in my kitchen, remembering the many times I’d cooked with both of my grandmothers. My mom disliked the kitchen with a passion, but my dad was a great cook. He’d taught me as much as my grandmas put together. I threw together two lasagnas, a dish of cannelloni and some homemade spaghetti sauce before placing them in the freezer. Feeling guilty, I blended the ingredients for a hearty Irish stew before dumping it in two plastic bags, wanting to appease both sides of my heritage. I also made a Bailey’s cheesecake. I was covered for dinner for a couple of weeks, at least.
Waiting until an almost decent hour, I called Wanda to see if she could fit me in for an early appointment, even though it was Sunday. If I let myself stop sleeping again, I’d lose too much of what I’d worked hard to do. Talking to her would help.
I quickly got ready and headed out to what actually felt like a warm spring day. Finally.
My hands rested on the steering wheel as I wound through town, dressed down in dark jeans with a sweater for the nice Sunday. Maybe I’d just wear sweats and watch a Supernatural marathon of my own, eating only pizza and ice-cream. Although, I’d have to beg off of the family barbecue that day, saying I had a cold or had to work. It was okay to do so once in a while. Yeah. That was a good plan.
My phone buzzed. “Albertini,” I answered.
“Hey, Sunshine. It’s Sheriff Franco over in Silverville. Sorry to bug you on a Sunday.”
The sheriff was about eighty years old and had coached me in softball for over a decade. Even so, I wanted to smack my head against the steering wheel. “Hey, Sheriff. Dad said you have the newest letter.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m calling. I’ve had requests from a federal agency for the cards, or copies of them, as well as the case files. Do you know what’s going on?” The sheriff sounded the same as he had my entire life. Calm, cool, and grumpy. He was like another grandfather to me.
Unfortunately. My temples started to ache just enough to tick me off. “Yeah, I think so. Nick Basanelli has taken over as the prosecuting attorney here, and he promised to call in some favors to find Jareth Davey.” Though by all accounts, it wasn’t going well. Davey knew how to hide. “My guess is that Nick has friends in several agencies.”
The sheriff cleared his throat. “You want to know where Davey is?”
“Yeah,” I said softly, pulling into a parking slot on Main street. “I’d like to at least know.”
“Okay dokey. I’ll send them the info. Bye.” He hung up.
I grinned. He’d never been much good on the phone. Thought it was too impersonal for people who really wanted to communicate. Then I stepped out of the car to the sidewalk, wove around a flowerpot and into the building, taking the stairs to Wanda’s office.
The place looked much better than before. The boxes were gone, the books were stacked on shelves, and the plants had been placed at strategic points. Wanda gestured me inside and then finished a phone call, pointing toward a sofa near the fireplace and two chairs.
I chose one of the chairs.
