No shit. I look up at Schubert in Ivory’s arms, his neck hanging awkwardly, likely broken. A renewed wave of anger funnels through me.
Smith: Released yesterday. My CI just contacted me. Lawyer argued PTSD as grounds for an insanity defense. Got an appeal. Reduced sentence. I’ll be in touch as soon as I locate Gandara’s whereabouts.
Lorenzo had a year left on his sentence. At least now I don’t have to worry about dealing with his release.
I type out an acknowledgment since that’s what I would do if I weren’t standing over a dead body. I’ll let the PI look for Lorenzo. It’s a risk, but I need to see if his investigation leads him back to me.
Shane’s gaze bounces between the phone in my hand and the door, as if considering escape. “You can’t call the cops, man. I stopped him from raping her!” His voice rises. “I killed my best friend. For her.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I hit send on the text and drill my gaze into his. “You broke into my house. You’re an accomplice to murder. If you run, I’ll make the call. If you give me what I want, this stays between the three of us.”
He swallows. “What do you want?”
“Answers. Cooperation.” I flick a hand at the body. No way in hell can I lift that big motherfucker by myself. “Then you’ll crawl back into whatever hole you’ve been in for the past three months and never come back.”
“Okay.” He nods, his throat bobbing and eyes shifty. “I can do that.”
I don’t fucking trust him. In a perfect world, I would’ve killed Lorenzo without another soul knowing about it. Two witnesses are two risks too many. Ivory won’t betray me, but whatever knowledge she has about my next steps could incriminate her. I need to distance her from it.
I also need to disentangle her from Schubert.
“Ivory.” As I wait for her to look at me, I remember the reason I rushed home. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”
“I—” She hugs the cat against her neck, looks down at her bare legs, at the floor by the bathroom door, and back at her legs. “I might’ve…” Her chin quivers. “I’m sorry.”
Sorry for what? Releasing her bladder while fighting off a rapist?
I capture her arm and pull her to me. “I hope you fucking pissed all over him.”
Her hand strokes the cat’s fur. “I hope so, too.”
I slide my arm around her waist, shifting her against me with Schubert between us. I move my other hand over his eyes, brushing them closed, petting his soft fur, letting myself mourn his death.
He was a gift from her father, her comfort when she was scared, her friend when she had no one. He was all she had the last time she lost someone she loved. Now she has me.
I hold her until her tears fall and caress her back while she silently sobs. Her trembling makes me ache. Her grief magnifies my own.
Shane watches us from a few feet away, eyes wet and turbid, noises strangling in his throat as if he’s trying to contain his sniveling. Maybe it’s guilt. I hope he chokes on it.
I reluctantly lean back. “It’s time to say goodbye.”
The look of devastation on her beautiful face threatens to bring me to my knees.
I strengthen my stance and gesture Shane over. “Your brother’s going to take Schubert.”
Her arms tighten around the cat as a sob climbs up from deep in her chest.
I cradle her face. “I’m so sorry, Ivory. I would give anything to make this easier.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll bury him in the backyard. I’ll build a memorial there, whatever you want, okay?”
Tears drip down her cheeks, mixing with the blood on her lips as she stares at the cat.
I nod at Shane.
After a few cries of protest, she releases her hold. Shane bundles the body against his chest, his face falling.
I turn her away, guide her into the bathroom, and draw the bath. “I’ll be right back.”
Grabbing a towel, I step out, close the door behind me, and meet Shane’s eyes. “Who knows you’re here?”
He flinches. “No one. I swear.”
His promise means nothing to me.
“Go out the back door and get the medicine from my GTO. Park the Honda in the garage. You’ll find a tarp and duct tape in there.” I drop the towel beside the body. “Grab whatever else we might need.”
If he’s going to run, he would’ve done it by now. If he changes his mind, I won’t be able to stop him. So I leave him there with the cat in his arms and hope he’s smarter than he looks.
In the bathroom, I give Ivory some sleeping pills, roll up my sleeves, and silently, soothingly, bathe her into drowsiness. I hate sedating her, but I don’t want to leave her awake and grieving by herself. She needs to be comatose for however many hours it takes to deal with the body.
The urge to call my parents itches at me. Mom could stay with her while I’m gone. But making them accessories to disposing of a body is not an option.
When a fist knocks on the bathroom door, some of the tension eases from my shoulders.
I gaze down at Ivory, her skin pink from the heat of the water and her eyes hooded with fatigue. “If I leave you here for a few minutes, are you going to drown?”