Page 181 of You Betrayed Me (The Cahills 3)

Once they caught up with him, Bruce Porter rolled over like a dead fish. He’d been out of town, visiting his sick brother, he claimed, but was back for the holidays, and the thought of going to prison again was enough to get him talking.

“Look, I don’t want no trouble,” he said as Mendoza and Rivers stood on the front porch of the little bungalow he shared with Andie Jeffries. In stocking feet, he stood on the other side of the screen door, wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a baseball cap. A television was rumbling in the background. “For God’s sake, we’re supposed to go to Andie’s folks’ house in an hour.”

“Just tell us what you know about Gus.”

“Oh, fuck. Give me a sec.” He reached to the side, and Rivers had his own hand on his service weapon, but Bruce was only grabbing his jacket. He slid it on, stepped into a pair of nearby slippers, then pulled the door shut behind him. Huddled under the porch lamp, they stood on the front porch on a street where a few houses were decorated, blow-up Santas and snowmen swaying in the breeze that rattled down the street lined with parked cars, trucks, and SUVs. “Look, I don’t have much time. Andie’s in the shower. We’re goin’ to her folks for dinner in an hour. And anyway, I don’t know much, just that Gus was in some trouble, and he stuck his hand in that tile saw to hide some kind of evidence—a wound, I think.”

“A wound from what?” Mendoza asked.

“A fight, I guess. I dunno. I asked him about it, and all he said was that it was ‘big trouble.’ Well, really he said ‘big effin’ trouble,’ but he used the ‘f’ word, y’know.” He seemed a little embarrassed and looked down a lot, the bill of his cap shading his eyes. “I don’t want no trouble, like I said. I’ve got a good thing goin’ here with Andie, and we’ve got a kid comin’, and I don’t want to blow it. This—whatever Gus is involved in—has nothin’ to do with me.”

“Was he out of town?” Rivers asked and gave him the date of Charity Spritz’s murder.

“I don’t know.” He looked to the side, rubbed a hand around the back of his neck, obviously weighing his options. “Oh, Christ . . . maybe so,” he finally admitted. “Gus had me pick him up at a motel by the airport in Spokane and told me not to say anything to anybody, and so I didn’t.”

“Do you know if he has fake ID? A passport in another name?”

“No . . .” But as he thought about it, he paled. “Oh, shit, I don’t know nothin’ about that.” Rivers could see the wheels turning in his head. “I thought—I mean he said he’d gone to Las Vegas and didn’t want anyone to know cuz he’s got this gambling habit. You think . . . oh, shit!” He let out his breath and adjusted his hat. “You think he killed that reporter woman?” Porter turned in a small, tight circle under the light fixture. “I can’t believe it. I mean . . . holy shit!” And then the true seriousness of the situation hit. “Look, I swear I knew nothin’ about any of that, I just gave the guy a ride, okay?” He looked over his shoulder. “Jesus, I just heard the water go off. She’s gettin’ out of the shower. She can’t know nothin’ about this . . . she’d be so pissed!”

He started to turn toward the door. “Wait a second,” Rivers said. “Does Gus know Sophia Russo?”

“What? Hell yes, we all do. She works at the hotel as a bartender and sometimes does a shift or two at the café and the Christmas shop.”

Mendoza asked, “Do they hang out?”

“I dunno. Not that I know of. Look, I gotta go. Andie can’t find out about this!” With that, he was inside, the door pulled shut behind him.

“A relationship made in heaven,” Mendoza remarked as they trudged through the snow and across the street to the spot where Rivers had wedged his Jeep between a jacked-up Ram pickup and a Dodge minivan that showed spots of rust. “She doesn’t want him to know that she’s talked to us, and he’s afraid she’ll find out that we were asking him questions. I give it six months—baby or no baby.”

“So much for the whole ‘love conquers all’ theory.” Rivers unlocked the Jeep and slid inside as Mendoza got into the passenger seat and shot him a look. “You’re divorced, right? Go ahead, tell me about love being the ultimate victor.” He didn’t respond as he pulled away from the curb because he heard Astrid’s voice again, her deep-throated chuckle, as she said, “I guess she’s got you there now, darling, doesn’t she?”

* * *

“You know you’re an idiot, right?” Julia said, dragging her sister’s twitching body up the two steps and into the interior of the tiny house. Sophia was spasming and flailing, trying to gain purchase, hoping to strike her twin, but she had no control, couldn’t use her hands or legs after being jolted with the stun gun. Julia really hated to do this, but she had no choice. Sophia was going to ruin everything.

She turned on the heat, saw the propane fire spark to life, and watched Sophia struggle and flounder.

“Mmmmeeee . . . ggggggaaaa . . .”

“Megan? You want to know what happened to her?” Julia asked. “Oh, she’s here. Right out there.” She pointed to the front of the small building, toward the trees surrounding the clearing. “In the yard.”

Sophia’s eyes widened even farther, and drool started to slide from her mouth.

“Oh, come on!” Julia said. “You really believed she was alive? That I was stupid enough to think I could convince her to be a part of our plan and just pay her off and she’d go away and never bother us again? Get real!” She stepped over her sister’s twitching body, avoiding a weak kick Sophia attempted. “How lame are you?”

Of course, Sophia couldn’t answer.

“Pathetic!” Julia said.

Sophia started to cry.

Like a damned baby.

Tears running from her eyes, ruining her mascara, causing her nose to redden.

“Oh, stop!” Julia was having none of it. “Come on. You know we had to get rid of her. So that James could focus on you. On us.” She crouched down so that her face was close to her twin’s. It was like looking in a bloody mirror, she thought—well, aside from Sophia’s now mottled complexion and the waterworks making her eyes red and puffy. “You think I’m a monster, don’t you?” she taunted. “You wonder just how far I’ll go. I can see it in your eyes.”

Sophia reacted, coiling, trying and failing to hurl spit right in her twin’s face and failing miserably, the spittle running down the corner of her mouth.

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