Page 52 of Skeletons in the Closet

“Not lucrative in pay?”

“No.”

“I hear ya. My job pays shit. Ever investigate the infidelity of a dead man before?”

“Nope.”

“Ever thought of expanding your business?”

“No.”

“I could be an asset.”

“I work alone.”

“Is it because you’re afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”

Heat climbed my neck. I kept my gaze on the house and didn’t answer. Did the guy ever stop talking? Did he have to shine a spotlight on every little thing? Couldn’t he ignore shit on occasion and realize I was uncomfortable?

“Hey, Guns. Look at me.”

I didn’t want to, so I remained facing forward.

“Here’s the thing—”

Sean and Beth emerged from the front door of the house, and I jolted upright, sputtering, “Shut up. There she is.”

Tallus followed my gaze. The couple stopped on the front stoop in the rain, clearly involved in a spat. Sean was in Beth’s face, finger raised, emitting hostility. He looked to be shouting, but we were too far down the road with the Jeep windows rolled.Every so often, he scanned the wet street as though afraid he might be seen or heard.

Beth stood her ground, shouting back when Sean gave her an opening.

“Oh, this is good,” Tallus muttered, rubbing his hands together. “Give the engine some juice so I can power down the window. Maybe we can figure out what they’re fighting about.”

I clicked the key to accessory mode, and Tallus lowered the glass a few inches. We still couldn’t determine the essence of the fight over the rainfall. Sean’s temper might be high, but his voice was washed out by the weather.

Beth turned to go, but she didn’t get two steps before Sean grabbed her arm, jerking her back in front of him so hard she stumbled and almost fell. With his other hand, he popped her in the side of the head. A solid, closefisted wallop that no doubt would have made a noise had we been standing nearby.

Her husband’s grip was strong enough I wouldn’t have been surprised if it left a mark. Beth winced and cowered. Sean’s face was in hers, spitting venom we couldn’t hear. His words were no doubt caustic and threatening. Beth’s body bowed to the left, suggesting she was doing all she could to alleviate the hurt caused by his grip on her arm. Sean wouldn’t let go and popped her on the side of the head again when she squirmed.

I saw the moment Beth submitted. I saw the pleading way she looked at her husband.

The fear.

I saw red.

My blood boiled, and I felt on my own skin the way Sean’s fingers dug into her. I felt the ache of a coming bruise echo in my muscles. I knew those pops to the side of the head personally and how they rattled your teeth and made your ears ring. I felt Sean’s spittle raining on my face as he spoke. Beth’s bone-deep fear radiated out of her and into me.

Her humiliation.

Her contempt.

Her submission.

A roar of anger flooded my brain and stole my ability to think. I was in two places at once. I was watching Beth be victimized by her husband, and I was stuck in my father’s grasp as he shook me, spat in my face, and made me submit under the force of his hand. I was a teenager again, waiting for the next blow, wondering how bad it would be and if he would please just kill me this time and get it over with.

Tallus was speaking, but his voice was a muffled drone in the background. It wasn’t until he touched my thigh that I was catapulted to the present. My father’s biting grip let go, and in response, my arm swung of its own accord, fending off the attack that wasn’t there.

Time and space were disoriented, warped, out of sync, but somehow, I caught myself before my fist connected with Tallus’s face.

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