Page 20 of Demise

Ruel was a dirty looking fucker, and I’m not talking about his outer appearance. I’m speaking about the inside. In this business, it’s easy to spot the evil behind someone’s eyes, because it reflects the evil inside you.

Ruel was a sharp dressed man, thin gold chains, nice tailored suit.

Devil’s finest angel.

But behind those eyes lurked a darkness. Club Red is dimly lit mostly, but in certain spots the light shines just right, well enough to see someone for what they really are.

My instincts were on high alert, so when we returned, I did some snooping. I found records of girls’ names, social security numbers, and odd things he had no business having. Red flag shit.

It was strange to me. Long ago, when Bones and I went to Moretti about the sick man who took children in—the one Trig murdered because he was messing with the little girls in the foster home I lived in—he acted disgusted and it wasn’t because of what we’d done, but because we informed him of what the man was doing.

My discoveries confirmed what Bones had suspected before he vanished. Morettihadchanged.

With already enough on our plate, I decide now might not be the best time to worry Bones with all of this. After all, he needs to heal. I can’t throw too much on him.

“I don’t imagine Moretti would care much to have you kidnapped and held up in a cabin somewhere. If he wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

And I mean that. Moretti has other things going on right now. He had no reason to kill Samuel, and if he wanted the woman out of Bones’ life, then she would have been a long time ago. Moretti has moved on to bigger, more evil shit.

He nods in agreement. “I believe that to be true.”

“So back to Miles and Trig.”

He sighs. “Yes.” He runs a hand through his hair. It’s grown and he still hasn’t shaved. It’s unlike him. Bones has always been well kempt.

“Trig has all corners covered, and besides him being a little distant and the shit ton of coincidences, there’s no reason to hang him when we don’t know for sure.

“Miles had a rubber band on. Miles bought his truck and then stole it back. That’s not far-fetched. He’s a…wasa junkie. We never saw the vehicle, never saw his face, never heard his voice because of the voice disguiser. Of course, there’re other little things, but I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “Maybe he had nothing to do with it.”

“Maybe,” I reply.

“Regardless, he will be watched until I can swear on it,” Bones says.

“Agreed.”

“So back to Miles.”

“Well, I know Miles wouldn’t have acted alone.”

“Only one other person who I’d suspect would help him,” Bones says.

“Nugget,” we both say in unison.

Chapter Sixteen

Bexley

The door clicks shut behind me. One crystal clear click. It sounds depressing. Maybe because I know I’m the only one who’ll ever walk through that door and hear it shut on the other side. I hobble over to the window, taking a peek out the cracked curtain at the black SUV parked across the street.

“Of course,” I mutter. I sigh and turn back to the living room. It’s quiet. Deafening. His scent still lingers. I can still hear the sound of his work boots hitting the hardwood after he removes them, the smell of his sweat from a hard day’s work. The feel of his hands, rough and calloused.

Butheis gone.

My husband is dead.

My friend, my partner in this life, is no more.

A tear hits the floor, and I feel like I will, too, if I don’t sit down. I slide against the wall. The crutches clash against the hardwood.

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