Page 32 of Clubs

Ria’s pretty face wasn’t the one that greeted him when he opened the office door. Instead, it was a crotchety old man in a suit. At first, Emory didn’t recognize him. He had green eyes, a graying mustache, a balding head, and a plump figure. But he recognized the badge he flashed right away. Detective Tyler.

“Customers gotta stay at the front of the house.” Emory glanced that way. “But sorry, no coffee and donuts. And no boys in blue discount.”

“I’m here on business.” Detective Tyler glowered at Emory. “Have you seen Declan today?”

“Yup.”

Tyler looked past him into the office. Emory didn’t attempt to block his view. There was nothing to hide at Spades. Aside from the fact that Tyler was the only human in here. “He here?”

“Nope.”

“Any idea where he is?”

Emory glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s five thirty, so if I had to guess, fucking his girl. Five’s their happy hour.”

Tyler didn’t seem to appreciate Emory’s sarcasm. Emory didn’t appreciate cops.

“Too bad. Was hoping to get a word in.” Tugging his notebook from his pocket, he clicked a pen. “You were here last night, weren’t you?”

“Yup.”

“You see Declan last night?”

“Yup.”

“You see him go outside?”

“Nope.”

“Not once.”

“Nope.”

Huffing, Tyler straightened up. “Would you rather do this at the station?”

“You gonna arrest me?” Emory leaned against the doorframe. “Or just hold me for questioning until I lawyer up? You know good and damn well that we had nothing to do with that girl’s death.”

Forcing himself into releasing his tight jaw, Tyler traced his tongue along his teeth. “Look, I’m trying to find Alicia’s family some closure—”

“Bullshit.” Emory laughed. “Bullshit, dude. How many girls like her get killed a month around here? How many of those girls’ families get closure? You don’t give a fuck about her. You just care about taking Declan down. Sorry to break it to you, but he’s not a murderer. He’s not a dope dealer like his dad. He’s a good guy all the way around. So look somewhere else, because he’s not your fucking guy.”

Emory started past Tyler, but the detective caught him by the shoulder. His grip tight on Emory, he spoke low. “Maybe he didn’t kill Alicia. But Alicia’s not the only body that’s turned up in connection to this place. She’s just the only one left somewhere we could find.”

With furrowed brows, Emory spun around to face him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Ryan Taylor. Olivia Martinez. Eric Evans. Ethan Walker. All reported missing since Declan’s taken over this place. None found,” Tyler said. “Don’t even get me started on the list associated with his daddy. But that son of a bitch’s dead now. Can’t do shit about it. Here’s the thing, though. Declan looks better on paper. But ya know what I think?”

Emory’s stomach was in knots.

Eric, yes, Declan had killed. The prick deserved it, but that was moot. Declan had killed that man, and Tyler was determined to prove it. Still, Emory had no trouble sounding natural when he said, “What’s that?”

“Declan’s just smarter than his daddy.” Tyler smirked. “He thought if he stayed out of drugs, trafficking, guns, and all that, he’d keep the heat off himself. But see, I remember that fucker. I remember how good he was at getting rid of evidence. It might be harder for me to prove, but have no doubt, boy.” They were almost chest to chest now, Tyler’s eyes flicking quickly between Emory’s, scrutinizing his every breath. “I know a killer when I see one. And I’m gonna put all the fuel I’ve got on this fire. It’s not gonna fizzle out this time.”

He gave Emory’s shoulder a hard squeeze, smiled once more, and said, “You have a good night, Emory.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

DECLAN

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