Page 12 of Clubs

The most recent visit I’d had from the police was two months ago. A couple guys got into a fight. I told them to take it outside, they did, and it got bloody. Somebody driving by must’ve called it in. But that was a quick, hi, bye situation. “Not that I can think of. And it’s not like I’m involved in anything shady. Nobody has good reason to frame me. Especially for murder.”

“Whoever it is, they must be stupid. If they wanted to set you up for murder, they should have built a better case. Given you a reason to kill someone, then fabricate evidence of the act.”

I snorted.

Glancing from the road to me, she smiled. “What?”

“You say that like you have experience.”

She tried to pull her smile down, unsuccessfully, and kept her gaze on the road. “What can I say. I worked for the Chambers.”

“You framed people for murder?”

“It’s a long story.”

I laughed. “You did. You framed innocent people for murder.”

“Calm down, I did not frame people. I just framed one person.”

“That makes it a lot better.”

“Don’t take that judgmental tone with me, mister. He’d already committed murder. Cops couldn’t prove it, and neither could I without exposure. He was some rich, untouchable son of a bitch. I couldn’t get my hands on him, so I set him up.” She paused, looking my way again. “Don’t repeat this.”

“Never. But I have to know the story.”

“Keep blowing that smoke at me, and you’re gonna live it.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” I pinched the cherry off the cigarette and stowed the remaining butt into my pocket. “That was just something you casually did when you were working with the Chambers. Murder.”

“Don’t say it like that.” She frowned at me. “I’m not a psychopath. There was a job that needed doing, and I did it.”

“I’m not saying you’re a psychopath. Just that it’s fucked up. That they made you do it, I mean.”

The slow release of her shoulders told me how much that meant to her. It was a weight she carried, apparently, and it was nice for someone to acknowledge that. She’d only been a teenager when she’d started working for them. No one had thanked her for that, nor acknowledged the damage it’d done.

Of course, I assumed that was what her reaction meant. I didn’t know much about Brooke. Sure, we could read each other’s minds, but we’d agreed long ago that it was an invasion of privacy to do that regularly. As a person, I knew her well. But her life story was a mystery. All I did know? Her father was in prison, her mother had left when she was young, and then she’d gone on to work for the Chambers in college.

Her emotions were no different. Anything I learned about the way Brooke felt was guesswork. The release of her shoulders, a half-smile, the glint of a tear she wouldn’t let me see. This was all I had to go on.

I loved her more than I loved just about anything. But fuck, I hated that this was the closest I got to her letting me in. I could read her mind at any time, but communication? Knowing how she felt? I knew when she was pissed, and that was about it.

“It is what it is,” Brooke said. “But don’t get high and mighty here. I’m not the only murderer in the car.”

“I have killed four people and only because I had to.”

“I didn’t have a choice either. If I had, I still would’ve chosen to kill them.”

She shouldn’t have had to. But that was a conversation for a different time. A time when I had the patience to coax it out of her.

“So what do we do now?” Brooke asked. “What if they try and pin it on you either way?”

“I put up the house for a good attorney,” I said. “When we get back, let me run to the safe. I’ll pay you back for Ashley.”

“I’m not worried about it. Just get a shower and relax. Then meet me at the library, and we can talk about whatever I figure out. You should probably do some digging too. Maybe ask regulars if anybody knew this girl? I know her name from somewhere.”

“That’s nice of you, sweetheart, but I’m paying you back.”

“It’s really not a big deal—”

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