Page 93 of The Wicked

“Who are the men at the end of the driveway? Why are they there?” That was Kayleigh. Nobody could whine as well as she did.

“How should I know?” Parker said. “They’re probably something to do with the police.”

Poor Parker. I should send him a bottle of Tylenol.

“Can’t you find out?”

“Why don’t you ask them?”

“It’s cold outside.”

“Maybe you could take them coffee?”

“Are you going to go and talk to them or not?”

“Not. Leave me alone.”

At least by getting on the twins’ nerves, Garrett’s goons had served some purpose. While they were distracted, we made it to the back door and escaped around the side of the house before Kayleigh and Lillian realised we were home, but I still wasn’t going to thank him for sending his spies after me.

We were almost back at Brooke’s apartment when Luca’s phone rang. I could only hear one side of the conversation, but it made my ears prick up.

“Last night? You’re certain it was the same man?” … “How long was he there for?” … “Did you speak to him?” … “Okay, okay.” … “Thanks, I appreciate it. I’ll swing by to collect it in the next hour.”

“Well?” Blue asked the second he hung up.

“That was Nico. Our man showed up at the Peninsula again last night.”

“Do you mean Seth Harless?”

“Nico believes so. He took a better picture, and he kept a water glass with fingerprints.”

“Nice.”

“He got curious and spoke with him,” Luca said. “It was late, almost midnight, and Harless claimed he was taking a break on the way to pick up a friend from PDX.”

“While also establishing an alibi for the shooting. Convenient. I bet he was waiting around to collect his buddy after he’d done the deed.” Blue leaned back in the seat. “Damn, this case is frustrating. I can see a picture emerging, but it’s all circumstantial. There’s no actual evidence, nothing that’ll stand up in court. Sara’s parents went off the road: accident. Case closed. A guy tried to break into Sara’s house: burglary gone wrong. Case closed. The only thing that links them is Sara’s memories.”

It’s all in my head.

Which meant they were going to try and kill me again. They had no other choice.

32

GARRETT

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I want to drink myself into oblivion.”

And I’d done a pretty good job so far. The bottle of top-shelf liquor I’d picked up on the way from the airport was respectably empty.

“Suit yourself.” But Gracie sat down beside me anyway. “You look like shit.”

“I love you too. Want some?” I held out the Scotch.

“No, I do not. Did you really tackle a burglar with your bare hands and shoot him with his own gun?”

“Where did you hear that?”

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