Darker Than Any Shadow

Chapter Forty-one

The after-party was a Bacchic blur of hugs and champagne, first at the Fox and later at a draft house down the street. Rico stayed tangled in the knot of his supporters, flushed and sweating but positively glowing.

I joined the revels, but Trey stayed at the Fox to doublecheck his protocol for Saturday. I didn’t try to convince him otherwise. He was still calm and precise on the surface, but something trembled in his depths, like one of the continental plates of his psyche had shifted.

Cricket and Jackson’s absence muted the exuberance as the rumors flew. Surprisingly, the rumors weren’t nearly as colorful as the truth. As warned, I kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t shake the memory of Jackson slumped against the wall, a well-meaning monkey wrench in the wheels of justice. I knew Rico and I were wrenches too, even Trey in his own way. We each had a moral blueprint we followed come hell or high water, for good or ill.

The Atlanta poets snagged a corner table with a window that overlooked Peachtree. I sat thigh to thigh with Rico. He was jazzed and mellow, almost back to his own self. I hadn’t told him that Trey now knew about the cell phone fiasco. I figured that particular chicken would come home to roost soon enough.

I was halfway through my second beer when a text interrupted my pondering. I read it twice to make sure it said what I thought it said. Then I leaned over and pulled at Rico’s elbow. “Come outside a second. We have to talk.”

He followed me onto the sidewalk, shutting the heavy doors on the din of the bar. Peachtree was almost as noisy, the sidewalks flowing with sparkling club-goers, the streets a blur of headlights and shiny cars. Everybody on perpetual cruise.

I pulled Rico into a huddle behind a blowsy magnolia. “Can I borrow your car? It’s a sorta emergency.”

“You have your own car.”

“It’s five blocks away. You’re right across the street.”

“Get Trey to take you. He’s right across the street too.”

“It’s almost midnight, he’s gone home already.”

Rico folded his arms, bear-like. “Tell me what you’re up to, and I’ll consider it.”

“I don’t have time!”

But Rico wasn’t budging. I spilled the story as quickly as I could.

“I got a text from Sloane, my reporter contact. She just finished an interview with Amber Hocking, and Amber wants to talk to me, like, right now!”

“Who’s Amber Hocking?”

“Lex’s lovely assistant.”

“The spangled one in the videos?”

“Bingo. Apparently she’s in town to claim the body and take it back to Iowa or Ohio, one of the vowel states.”

“That’s the best Lex had for family, his assistant?”

“I don’t know, Rico, and I’m very unlikely to find out unless you give me your keys right now.”

He made a noise and looked gruff. “You should call Trey.”

“And you should have told Trey about Lex’s cell phone. So don’t lecture me.”

Rico leaned against the wall. Under the streetlight, his skin glowed warm like mahogany.

“You’re pissed at me.”

“Yeah. And I’m pissed at myself. And I’m totally confused. Keep Trey in the loop, leave Trey alone. I have no idea what’s best. But I do know this. Sloane called with this amazing opportunity, and if I don’t get to the Marriot Marquis quick, I’ll miss it.” I held out my hand, palm-up. “So what do you say?”

He fished his keys from his pocket. “You keep 911 on speed dial, you hear? No dark alleys. And get your ass back here ASAP.”

***

I took the sidewalk at a trot, passing the Fox on the way, its Broadway bright entrance still gleaming like a carnival. The private parking area was mostly empty, which I hoped would make Rico’s Chevy Tahoe an easy spot.

I saw the Ferrari first, however, parked in the far back corner. So Trey was still around. Garrity’s warnings growled in the back of my head. You’re a couple now, not a crime-fighting duo. And for Trey’s sake, that’s how it’s got to be. But I remembered the look on Trey’s face too, when I’d spilled about the cell phone. Angry, yes, but betrayed and hurt that I’d kept something so important from him.

I sighed and pulled out my phone. And I had my finger on speed dial when I rounded the corner and saw Rico’s car…with Trey standing beside the passenger door.

I put my phone away. “I was two seconds from calling you.”

“Rico called first.”

“He’s feeling guilty.”

“He should be.”

I popped the locks. “I can handle this by myself. I only wanted to tell you where I was and what I was doing.”

“Nonetheless.”

He opened his door and climbed in. I followed suit.

“Go home, Trey. You’re exhausted.”

“I think I need to get used to being exhausted.”

“You need to get used to letting me do things by myself.”

He exhaled. “Probably. But for now, I’m here. Drive.”

His voice crackled with authority, and I felt the first zing of annoyance. I slammed the door behind me and fastened my seatbelt.

“Fine. But you get to explain to Garrity.”

“Explain what?”

“That I didn’t drag you into this.” I jammed the key in the ignition. “He made me promise I’d keep you out of my investigating.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s worried about you. He thinks you might be…decompensating.”

Trey’s head snapped in my direction. “Garrity doesn’t know nearly as much as he thinks he does. About a lot of things.” Trey fastened his seatbelt with a determined thrust. “Now drive.”

I yanked the car into reverse and backed out, then hit the gas and cut a tight right onto Peachtree. Decompensating or not, Trey was dancing on my last nerve.

“Just because I let you come along doesn’t mean you get to start bossing me around.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re all cop-like again. You keep saying we’re not cops.”

“We’re not.”

“Then why—”

The car exploded in noise and smoke, a hissing whine followed by an ear-splitting detonation, then nothing but clotted gray fumes—choking, acrid, blinding. I stamped the brake and the car bucked hard, then skidded.

“Shitshitshit, I can’t see!”

“Slow down, don’t—”

A screech of metal on metal, and then a sickening lurch. I slammed forward as the airbag exploded with an excruciating blow to my face and another ear-cuffing boom. I heard Trey’s voice from far away, muffled, as my head splintered in a violent current of agony.

I screamed and yanked at the car door. Every move was pain, the world was pain, and Trey was yelling in my ear, but I couldn’t understand. There was noise and sickening spinning pressure and smoke, and Trey pulling at me, insistent.

I snatched free. A crescendo of pain. And then nothing.