It wasn’t money that Clay offered. The baggie of white powder he produced from his jeans did the trick, though. After a glance around, Jones took it and made it disappear into his pocket.
That was a good sign. Grade was still fidgety with nerves, but he didn’t think he’d do well in jail. He shifted his weight absently from one foot to the other and tried to think of something else. Anything else. Even if it broke his usual rules… and involved asking questions.
“Why didn’t you kill him?” he asked.
TJ looked up at him. “What? You don’t like him either?”
It was an easy in, but for some reason, Grade was reluctant to say no. Luckily enough, though, he didn’t have to answer TJ’s question.
“Why hesitate?” Grade pushed. “If you’d shot him, you could have been on the interstate by now. Halfway to the state line by the time Ezra realized he needed to stick someone else on your trail.”
TJ pressed his lips together and looked down at his grubby knees. It looked like Grade wasn’t going to get an answer, but just as he was about to give up and try another distraction, TJ cleared his throat.
“I never killed anyone before,” he said. “It’s harder than it looks in the movies.”
Grade still had an eye on the conversation between Clay and Jones, so it took a moment for that statement to sink in. When it did, he shifted all his attention to TJ.
“What about…” He trailed off and tilted his head toward the van. “Our mutual friend who’s not here anymore.”
That was apparently too subtle. TJ just looked blank, his head tilted to his side like a confused, slightly skanky dog.
“Buchanan,” Grade filled in for him. This time TJ screwed up his nose and shook his head slowly as he failed to follow. That left Grade with “uncomfortably direct” to get his point across. “The dead guy. In the restroom?”
Every professional habit he’d cultivated since he started this business wanted to shut him down. He ignored them in favor of his survival instinct. TJ wasn’t enough. Neither was the van. If he wanted to get free and clear of the threat to end up as Ezra’s sacrificial lamb, he needed the body.
Plus, the review on this job could sink him. The dark web had its own Yelp, and it was as unpleasant as you’d expect.
Grade put his finger to the side of his head and mimed pulling a trigger.
Recognition finally dawned on TJ’s face as his mouth puckered around a soft “Oh.” Then he laughed, a scratchy, humorless bark of a sound.
“Very funny,” he said. Then his eyes narrowed as he stared at Grade. “Or wait, you bought that? You’re dumber than you look.”
“I’ve been tested,” Grade said. “I’m not. Are you saying youdidn’tkill Buchanan?”
“You aren’t real quick for someone who ain’t as dumb as they look,” TJ muttered.
Grade bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t think of himself as a violent man, but just in that moment he could see why Clay resorted to hitting the guy right off the bat.
He crouched down and glared at TJ.
“It’s been a long night, and my life—my sister’s life—has been threatened, all becausesomeonekilled some bigshot from Lexington. So if it wasn’t you…”
TJ stared at Grade for a second, and then his eyes flicked to the side to look at something over his shoulder.
Someone.
Grade twisted around to see Clay slouched against the patrol car, his head tilted back to bask in the morning sun like a lizard while Jones talked into the radio. For a moment, Grade tried to twist his brain through the mental gymnastics needed to go “You meanJones?”but he couldn’t quite pull it off.
“Clay.”
It turned out that he couldn’t even make that sound like a question.
“Yeah, Ezra’s mental right-hand man,” TJ said. He jerked his chin toward the Pit. “Did you see him in there? It was like he wanted me to shoot him or something. Freak.”
Shit.
Grade scrubbed his hands roughly over his face and tried to think. It made sense. That didn’t mean anything, though. The minute you suspected someone of something, everything about them was suddenly suspicious. Ask any cop about that.
