Page 47 of Grave Stone

“Yeah, right here,” he said, pointing to the phone on his desk.

Hadley got up and walked toward the desk. “Y’all can’t be in here while I call. I’ll start laughing and fuck it all up.”

“We’ll wait in the hall,” Sin said.

“I haven’t had a chance to thank you for your help with this situation. I’m very grateful you didn’t kill me and my friends for all the trouble I’ve brought along with me.”

“I think the word you meant to use was haven’t. I haven’t killed you and your friends.” When he saw the look of horror on my face, he nudged me with his elbow. “I’m just fucking with you.”

“Stevie will know about this,” I nearly whispered, causing Sin to stiffen. Laughing, I bumped him back. “Just fucking with you.”

Hadley swung the office door open, looking unusually annoyed. “When I asked you to leave so I wouldn’t laugh while doing you a favor and impersonating you while talking to an officer of the law, I did not mean stand in the hall and laugh your asses off.”

I immediately pointed at Sin. “He did it.”

Hadley glared at him.

“What did the detective say?” I asked.

“He’ll meet you at your house tomorrow afternoon at four. He wouldn’t tell me anything other than that he needed to speak with you about a case he’s working on. So, let’s go over everything in detail and make sure you know exactly what to say.”

“And what not to say,” Sin added.

19

STONE

She turned her head and noticed me as soon as I opened the sliding glass door. “You didn’t wait for me.” I put my mug on the table and lit my blunt. “Not sure I should share this with you.”

“That’s fine.” Leaning forward, she picked up my cup. “I’ll drink your tea.”

“I’ll share if I can sit.”

She stopped the swing and gestured to the empty space beside her. “Be my guest.”

“Thanks.”

“So, what keeps you up at night?” she asked.

I hadn’t planned on telling her or anyone, but in that moment, I thought maybe getting it off my chest would help.

“It’s not something I talk about because it happened a long time ago. I dealt with it and moved on with my life. However, for reasons you’ll understand in a minute, it’s resurfaced, and I just want to fucking sleep without being woken up by weird dreams.”

“Is that your way of asking me to keep this to myself?”

“Not really. Everybody around here knows about it. We just don’t talk about it,” I explained. “I don’t give a fuck if you tell your friends.”

“Let me hear it first, then I’ll decide if I want to tell them.”

“I got married when I was eighteen because my girlfriend told me she was pregnant, and I thought it was the right thing to do. I got a job at a funeral home owned by the Grave Prowlers and started prospecting for them soon after so I could take care of her and the baby like I promised. Well, she was fucking pissed when I told her I joined the motorcycle club. She thought I was going to join the military. A week or two later, she was waiting by the front door when I got home from work. She said, ‘I’m not pregnant,’ and refused to talk about it. I don’t know if she had a miscarriage, an abortion, or if there was never a pregnancy to begin with. We should’ve gotten it annulled and gone our separate ways, but we didn’t. I wasn’t home much because I was busy with work and the club, but I don’t know why she stayed as long as she did. Anyway, we’d been unhappily married for three years, and I was on call for the crematory. I got a call and had to go in. She flipped the fuck out, screaming and yelling about me always choosing the club over her, accusing me of cheating on her. All her usual accusations. I had to get to work, so I ignored her and left. When I got home a few hours later, her car was gone. I remember being relieved that she wasn’t there and hoping I could go to sleep before she got back. But then I found a note on my pillow. I don’t remember the exact words, but she said she followed me to the crematorium and snuck inside the casket before I put it in the incinerator.”

Whitney stopped the swing and turned toward me. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“No. I’m sorry for scaring the hell out of you. I mean, I am sorry about what happened with your wife, but holy shit. Of all the fucking caskets, I had to get put in the one you opened. That had to be awful for you.”

Her reaction caught me off guard. I expected the usual response—pity. “Did you just apologize to me for being a failed murder attempt?”