Page 87 of I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC 2)
“He’s guilty,” I say, nibbling on my thumbnail, my eyes still on the doors leading inside. “I know he is. But how, exactly, do we tell Cat that without revealing our hand?”
“As of right now, we do nothing,” Crown tells me, frowning hard and glancing over his shoulder. There’s a storm in his eyes that promises more to this sordid tale, information that I don’t yet have, that he probably feels sick at the idea of giving to me. None of it will be good. “Sometimes patience is key.” He looks back down at me, his eyes flashing. I wonder if he’s thinking about how it felt to wake up beside me? I know I’m thinking about it.
Beast and Grainger reappear like specters in the night, their hiding places still unknown to me.
I’m not sure if Cat knows there’s something going on with the Palm Motel, but even if he does, he won’t know about the key to room two. Even were we to dig up the same information that we have now, it would take much longer than two days. On top of all that, I’m assuming my father will come to the same conclusion as Grainger: Gaz skimming product, keeping the profits for himself.
It’s a fucked-up accusation for sure, but the only proof we have is the word of a prostitute. To me, her word is as good as anyone else’s. She’s just as likely to lie, just as likely to tell the truth. Cat won’t take her word as evidence though. He’ll want to set up surveillance on my brother which Gaz will already know about.
“Can you try calling that girl for me?” I ask finally, blinking through my haze to realize that all four of them are watching me with interest. “Ray of sunshine chick?”
“What for?” Sin asks, but he’s got his phone in his hand already.
“Just a hunch,” I reply, and that’s enough.
Somehow, someway, my hunch is enough to act on.
The tides really are changing around here.
Rhea Bundy is dead.
Her body is floating in the creek that runs behind the Santuario with the broken spire. My stomach clenches with nausea as I kneel down, biting down on my knuckles. Beast is wearing waders, standing knee-deep in the water and gathering the girl’s body in his arms like she matters.
Because she does.
“It never gets any easier, seeing things like this,” Crown says with a tired sigh. “Even as a cop, I never got used to it, and I saw this shit nearly every week.” He watches as Beast carries the girl onto the shore and sets her down, her head lolling, her dark hair wet and plastered across her face.
“It’s not the body that upsets me,” I tell him, and, as fucked up as that is, it’s the truth. “It’s the knowledge that my brother did this.” I scoot closer to the body and sweep the girl’s hair from her parted lips.
“Never make assumptions,” Crown corrects, squatting down opposite me as Sin and Grainger keep watch and Beast stares impassively down at the pale-skinned corpse. “Even if you’re damn near certain you’re right.” He grits his teeth and then exhales, touching his fingers to Rhea’s throat.
She’s been strangled; the bruises on her neck are just that obvious.
Not unusual.
It’s such an easy, relatively mess-free way to kill someone. To keep someone quiet. To send your bad deeds to a watery grave.
“Do you think she told him willingly what happened?” I wonder, considering all the ways Gaz might’ve known we were looking into him.
“Who knows,” Crown continues, checking her pockets and finding nothing of interest. She doesn’t have any money on her. No wallet. No jewelry. “Regardless, we need to report this to Cat. That’s the issue here. We have all of this information that we shouldn’t rightfully have.” He throws me a challenging look that I return without flinching. “On this particular issue, patience is a luxury we don’t have. We need to report this now.”
“Tell him you got a call from another one of the girls,” I say, releasing a heavy sigh. This girl’s death feels like it’s on my hands. As is Carol Briggs’. It seems that, no matter what I do, I bring about death. I draw it behind me like the train of that Catholic wedding gown, a mix of blood and lace and silk that follows me like a shadow. “They worry about each other. Cat will know Rhea is one of his son’s favorites. That oughta throw some suspicion his way.”
“You’d think,” Crown remarks dryly, lifting his gaze up to meet Beast’s. “But that’s not necessarily the case with your father.” He stands up and pulls out his phone, making a quick call. “We have a dead girl in Gemma Creek.” A pause. “Yep, one of ours. Get some guys down here to deal with it.” He hangs up, squeezing the phone so hard in his hand that his knuckles whiten.
