Page 78 of Skeletons in the Closet

“I… I don’t think I can do that without a warrant. Don’t you need a warrant? They always ask for warrants on TV.”

Goddammit.TV shows had ruined my game plan. I had nothing left. My stamina was gone, my brain was fried, and I was ten seconds from cursing the guy out and demanding information.

I nudged Diem. “Your turn, Guns. Don’t fuck up.”

Diem stared at me with confusion.

I squinted through the pain lashing my head and spoke through clenched teeth. “I can’t play anymore. I’m tapped out. I’m done. I hurt. Do it your way.”

“What’s my way?”

I passed a tight smile to the man behind the counter, whose head was on a swivel, bouncing his attention from Diem to me.

“Bribe him. I don’t care anymore. Get the information.”

“Oh.” Diem fished a fifty from his pocket and slid it across the counter. I swear he kept one handy at all times for these types of situations. Using a thick finger, he pinned it down so the guy couldn’t grab it. “Name.” He spoke with the perfect amount of intimidating growl in his tone.

The man scratched his head as he stared at the fifty. It didn’t take him long to decide whether he wanted to comply.

He turned to the computer, bouncing on his toes like he had to pee. “Man, don’t get me fired, okay. I need this job.” He tapped away at the keyboard and, a moment later, said, “David Shore. His name was David Shore. He paid cash, so there’s nothing else on file.”

“David Shore?” I asked, confirming. How many David Shores could there be in a city of millions? It was better than nothing.

“Yeah.”

“Perfect. Thank you.” I nudged Diem.

Diem removed his finger from the bill, and we headed out into the night. I collapsed in the passenger seat of the Jeep with a groan, closing my eyes and tipping my head back as I tried to breathe through the pain. It was getting worse by the second, and if I wasn’t careful, I was going to throw up.

Diem started the engine and drove without saying a word.

“We need to look this guy up,” I mumbled, covering my eyes with a hand to block out the city lights and headlights from other vehicles.

“No.”

“We finally have a name and—”

“No. It’s after eleven. Tomorrow.”

I didn’t argue, even though I suspected Diem would run with the information. Fucking head. I’d have to knock down his door again if I wanted to stay involved, and at this rate, I’d be down for the count for two days at least.

I kept my eyes closed for the ride, afraid I’d lose my stomach. The stirring nausea grew worse, and it took all my control to sit there and not cry. I didn’t move. I couldn’t speak.

The radio was on. It played quietly in the background, but even it felt like a jackhammer chipping away at my brain. I fumbled blindly for the knob to turn it off, but Diem moved my hand out of the way and did it for me.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Thanks.”

Several turns later, Diem slowed and stopped before grunting with all the articulation he possessed.

I peeled my eyes open, squinting at my surroundings, and found we were sitting outside my apartment building. “What… But my car. It’s at your house.”

“You can barely open your eyes. How are you going to drive?”

“I’d have figured it out.”

An irritated noise followed, and I submitted. I had no fight anyhow. He was right. Driving would have been dumb.

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