Page 44 of The Last Straw

“Sure. Just a sec,” Charlie said, punched a button and then set the phone on the table between them. “Okay...we’re here,” Charlie said.

“Good evening, Wyrick. Sorry to interrupt dinner, but this is information that will interest you.”

“I’m listening,” she said and took a bite of lasagna.

“The Louisiana FBI went to serve arrest and search warrants on Jeremiah Raver and found his body in the front yard. I won’t go into details, but we suspect Preston Davis took offense at the sudden onslaught of publicity, and thought by taking Raver out, no one would find out about the connection between them. Of course, thanks to you, the ATF already has it. I don’t know anything about the two other men he sent after you, but once they find out what happened to their leader, I’m thinking they’re all going to find the biggest rock to crawl under.”

“I believe that’s what you call, ‘reaping what you sow,’” Wyrick said and reached for a slice of garlic bread.

“Yes, ma’am. Well, that’s all I have to share. I hope this is a relief to you, and hasn’t upset the dinner you and Charlie are having,” Hank said.

“I’m not upset,” she said. “Charlie, are you upset?”

“I’m not upset,” Charlie said.

“Shit happens and then you die,” Wyrick said. “Thanks for calling.”

“Are we done?” Charlie asked.

Hank sighed. “Yes. Enjoy your meal,” and he disconnected.

Charlie pushed his phone aside and began filling his plate.

“You okay?” he asked.

Wyrick looked up. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be? Raver was the one playing God.”

Charlie relaxed. It was what he wanted to hear.

“I haven’t found anything on the blueprints yet, but I just got started. What about you? Anything interesting popping on the residents?”

“Nothing yet. I have a couple of searches yet to run.”

Charlie winced as a rumble of thunder rolled over the old mansion. “That sounds like we’re in for some rain tonight.”

“Into each life, some rain must fall,” Wyrick said and then rolled her eyes. “I’m just full of parables tonight.”

“How about filling up on salad instead?” he said and pushed the bowl toward her.

She looked up. “That was a good one. If I had an eyebrow, I’d arch it. There’s hope for you yet.”

Charlie didn’t like it when she made fun of how she looked.

“Eyebrows are overrated,” he said.

Wyrick appreciated the comment and served herself some salad.

Except for the occasional clink of fork to plate, or the clink of ice in a glass, quiet ensued.

Nine

Sonny rubbed his hand across the front of his sweatpants, testing the tenderness in his crotch. He was done with the game and Rachel Dean. He wanted to clean out his little playroom and forget this ever happened.

It wasn’t an issue to finish her off tonight, but it would be an issue getting her body out of that room and into his car without hurting himself all over again. He was still considering his options when he heard a big rumble of thunder.

Shit. If it rained, he couldn’t get to the burying grounds. Maybe he should just wait another night. He’d be that much stronger, and if it rained enough it would make digging easier.

Thunder rumbled again, and this time bringing with it the wind and the rain. That did it. He gave up the notion and headed to the kitchen to make himself some dinner. He wasn’t much of a cook, but he loved chicken potpies, so he took one out of the freezer and popped it into the oven.

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