Page 74 of Long Gone

God, I needed another drink but my hands were covered in dirt and God knew what else and I wasn’t desperate enough to stick one into my coat pocket. Yet.

“You haven’t found a cell phone,” I commented, my voice flat.

“And I doubt I will,” he said as he shifted to the upper part of the body and started rummaging around in the clothing. When he didn’t find anything, he rolled the body onto its back and froze.

“What?” I asked, my voice tight. It had to be something bad if Malcolm was affected.

“Nothing.” He reached under the body and snatched something out before lowering the body in its original place. Then he got to his feet.

“Bullshit,” I said, moving to the other side of the grave and standing next to him. “Show me what you found.”

“There are perks to being the person with the gloves.” Then he reached for his jeans pocket, and two things struck me. One, that there was no way he was going to get the stench of decaying flesh out his clothes and two, he’d dropped in something that looked like a coin.

“You don’t trust me?” he asked with a hint of amusement. “Why don’t you look under the body yourself?”

“I’m not stupid or blind, Malcolm. I know you grabbed something. Now show me what it was.”

Ignoring me, he squatted and picked up the keys. “I’m done looking him over. You want a stab at him?”

Fuming, I struggled with how to handle the situation. I couldn’t physically overcome him to get whatever he’d dropped into his pocket, and I couldn’t make him tell me what he’d found.

Without a word, he slipped off his gloves, picked up his jacket, and started strutting back toward the Jeep.

I stomped after him. “Why did you freeze when you saw what was under Hugo’s body?”

He got inside and turned to where I was standing outside the passenger side. “Are you getting in?”

“Are you denying that you knew what it was?”

His face hardened. “No.”

“Then it’s something important to you. Is what you found why you’re interested in this case?”

“You’re presuming,” he said, his face devoid of expression, “and if you’re going to presume, then why bother asking?”

“Do you ever give a straight answer?”

“Do you always ask questions you know you’re not going to get an answer to?”

I wanted to kick him, but he was already inside the Jeep and out of reach. Instead, I turned back to face the open grave. The drizzle had turned to a light sprinkle, and we were leaving Hugo Burton’s body exposed to the elements.

What the hell was I doing?

“We need to figure out our next move,” Malcolm said.

“We?” I countered, spinning around to face him. “Suddenly there’s a we?”

He spun his hand round in a circle over his head. “This whole excursion has been a we.”

“Until it wasn’t.”

Resting his right forearm on the steering wheel, he twisted his body at the waist to face me. “You keep things from me, Detective. I keep things from you. We’re not true partners. We each have our reasons for looking into this. Accept it or don’t, but decide now, or I’ll work on this on my own.”

He had a point. I had a lot of information I hadn’t shared with him, but somehow I knew it paled compared to what he’d found. Sure, I could search for answers on my own, but there was no denying he had more resources at his disposal, and if I worked with him, there was a chance I’d find out what he’d discovered. If I dumped him now, I’d never find out. But I was still pissed, and I’d have to swallow my anger if I was going to get back in that Jeep with him. Accepting that I’d lost this round was a bitter pill to swallow.

“Why stop the fun now?” I shot back sarcastically.

“That’s the spirit,” he said, sitting back in the seat. “Now, what do we do next?”

---