Page 71 of In The Trenches (Owens Protective Services)

I was so wrapped up in the movie that I hadn’t realized I moved to the end of the bed, laying on my belly and watching intently as Judd tried to burn Curly to death on a haystack. I sipped the last of my Coke, sad when it was all gone. I sat up in excitement when Judd died, thinking of a few people I’d like to give the same treatment.

“This is my favorite part,” Fox said, sitting on the edge of the bed with me. “Come on, sing with me.”

“I don’t remember the words,” I laughed.

“It’s not hard. It’s literally a song about Oklahoma. You can spell, right?”

He started singing along, making me laugh. He even sang the women’s parts, pitching his voice for every line. Then he motioned when it was my turn to start singing.

“This is it!”

I started singing along with him, watching his lips to try and catch the words. Before too long, I was catching on, singing and laughing along with him. I was having so much fun, laughing when he rewound it for us to sing again and again. I was actually getting pretty good at it.

He grabbed me by the arm, linking mine through his. “O-k-l-a-h-o-m-a, Oklahoooooma. Yow!” we both shouted, pumping our fists in the air before we fell back onto our backs on the mattresses, laughing hysterically.

“Christ, Fox got to her,” I heard from the doorway, sitting up immediately. Cash stood there with Dash, both of them staring at me, almost in disappointment. Then they shut the door and walked out. I turned to Fox, wondering what to do now.

“Again?”

25

CASH

“I’m telling you,she’s not guilty,” Fox said as he followed me into my office.

“Why? Because she sang show tunes with you?” I snorted, sitting down at my desk.

“Well, yeah, for one thing.”

I rubbed at the bridge of my nose. My head was pounding, and I was going to lose my shit soon if I didn’t figure out what the connection was between that building and Grady. So far, I was getting nothing from Rafe. I even tried calling Rae, but she also came up with nothing.

“Give me a better reason than she sang ‘Oklahoma’ with you.”

He rolled his eyes at me. “Like you need a better reason? Serial killers don’t sing show tunes while they plot to kill someone.”

“You do,” I pointed out.

He frowned, “Right, well, I’m not a serial killer, so I don’t count. I mean really baddies.”

“Right, like terrorists. They aren’t allowed to sing show tunes.”

“Exactly!” he said, pointing at me like I finally solved the DaVinci code. “I’m telling you, no woman is going to work with a terrorist and then sit around singing musicals with me.”

“Yes, she would, if she wanted to appear innocent.”

“Alright, then tell me about her background,” he challenged me.

“I can’t. I don’t know who the fuck she is. She’s a ghost.”

“Yes, but while you were playing the mean boss that wants to tear her to shreds, I actually talked to her like a person.”

“Since when?” I asked accusingly.

“Since I know she’s innocent. Hey, I can be just as mean as the next guy, but I can smell the innocence on her.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, shaking my head. “Don’t…don’t say shit like that. It just sounds wrong.”

“I’m telling you, this woman is running and scared, but it’s not because of some terrorist plot. She’s wrapped up in something else. She practically let it slip last night that she was abused as a kid. I’m telling you, she’s not the person you’re looking for.”

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