Page 50 of Making His Bones

You don’t know how much it took for me to reign in my anger. I knew these cornpones were involved in Delilah’s murder, but I had to hold my mud, as Gray would say, until we got all the evidence. Even the Bare Bones would agree to that. And I was soon to find out Gray had made progress.

I took Gray’s uninjured arm and turned him to the truck, but I spat at Upton, “You fucking degenerate.”

As we ambled to Wolf’s truck, Gray whispered, “I heard something.”

“Good,” I said, putting him in the back with me.

Meanwhile, Lytton was waving his piece at Upton. Wolf waved his at Bud. Lytton said, “We’re keeping a fucking eye on you pieces of twatwaffles. DeFreeze, can’t you keep these condom breaths in line?”

DeFreeze saluted. “Sure thing, Lytton.”

Wolf spat on the ground as a final goodbye before sticking his piece into his waistband. I don’t know how he found room what with all those tools jangling there. How did he sit in the driver’s seat?

“Poo pants,” Wolf said with disgust.

He was right. DeFreeze didn’t get off scot-free just because the Bare Bones had already beaten him into submission. He was still culpable. Listen to me. I’m in love with a guy who would beat a sheriff into submission.

Oh, well.

With stalking dignity, Lytton and Wolf got back into the truck, slamming the enormous doors extra-hard.

As Wolf backed out with tires spinning, I said, “Gray said he heard something.”

“Good,” Lytton repeated. “What?”

Gray said, “Upton told his dad ‘we have nothing to fear. You took the test for him.’”

Now I pounded my fist into my hand. “I knew it!”

“Knew what?” asked Lytton.

“There is a close relative of theirs who did it! They covered for this asshole by taking the DNA test for him.”

“That’s the impression I got,” said Gray. “Shouldn’t be too hard to track down every brother, son, and what? First cousin?”

I raised his wifebeater shirt to look at the bullet wound. Not that I was a doctor, but I was a scientist—almost as good. “Yes, first cousin. There’s another Pitchfork branch in Kachina Village, and one in Stoneman Lake. This bullet has an exit wound. We can get Maddy to patch you up. Maybe do some imaging.”

“Our brother Sax lives near Kachina Village,” said Lytton. “We can ask him about these fucktards.”

I smiled at Lytton, and he actually smiled back. Maybe I was making some progress with the club. This emboldened me so that I leaned in to Gray and gave him a soft, sucking kiss to his hot neck. He smiled down at me too.

“Whoa, whoa!” shouted Lytton.

Thinking maybe he was offended by my kiss, I bolted upright.

“What?” asked Gray.

Lytton pointed out the front windshield. “Santiago Slayer!”

I heard a faint “Alto, alto!” in Santiago’s inimitably dramatic voice. Poking my head between the two front seats, I saw the actor slash administrator in the middle of the dusty road waving his arms. Was he injured?

Wolf stopped and opened his door so Santiago could open the back suicide door. Santiago jumped in with us.

“Ah, Gray Whaley,” he said, as if meeting Gray at a cocktail party. He even shook his hand. “Very pleased to meet you.”

Gray was less pleased. “Same here. Let’s get out of here. What’re you doing in the middle of nowhere?”

Wolf explained. “Slayer here gave us the map to this back road. We never would’ve found you if not for him. Shut your door, Slayer.”