Dig Two Graves, James Harper [e reader pdf best .TXT] 📗

the doors flew open, brought it up sharply into the guy’s legs as he ran out. His arms windmilled, trying to keep his balance. Then Evan was on him like a real-life mythical creature, two hundred pounds of malevolent goblin come to life, landing on the guy’s back as he staggered forwards.

He kicked his legs out from under him, pushed him down. The guy hit the low wall with his gut, Evan on top of him. The air punched out of his lungs and mouth, a grunt squeezed out with it. He tried to suck it back in. Too late, his head was already underwater. Evan leaned all his weight on the guy as he bucked and thrashed, fingers in his hair, shoving his head deeper into the water. Pulled his head out for a split second. Then back under again. Held him for longer this time, the struggles growing weaker. Yanked him out a second time. Hit him with fake O’Brien’s sap as he coughed and spewed and sucked air, knocked him senseless. Laid him face down on the ground, pushed hard on his back with the heels of both hands. A lungful of pond water squirted out. Good enough. And more than the guy would’ve done for him.

He climbed off him. Cocked his ear. Nothing. No sounds from inside the house. No lights flicking on upstairs. He dragged the guy’s limp body back into the room, bumped his face up the sill as he went, made something bleed, didn’t care what. Left him lying in the middle of the floor, blood smeared across the tiles. He pulled out his phone, took a picture to add to his collection. Except this one wasn’t his idea. Blair had insisted.

Then he got the hell out.

Message delivered.

13

Blair was nowhere in sight the next morning when he wandered downstairs, just a message to say that she’d catch up with him later. He ate breakfast in the kitchen with Leon and afterwards Leon drove him to the hospital in the Bentley.

‘Successful night?’ Leon asked.

‘Yeah. At least I think so. I did what Blair wanted me to do. It was very satisfying, hearing the guy going glug, glug, glug as I held him under.’

‘I’ll bet. But she didn’t want you going into the house to find Bloodwell? Get a bit more satisfaction?’

He shook his head.

‘Nope. Something tells me she wants to keep that for herself. Any idea where she is this morning?’

‘Uh-uh. I heard her talking on the phone to Merritt. I’ve got no idea where she went after that. They don’t always keep me in the loop.’

He felt something coming together in the background. She was talking to Merritt a lot. She’d asked for a copy of the photo he’d taken of the fake O’Brien. She’d insisted he take a picture of the guy last night, send it to her immediately. He figured she was planning on trying to scare Bloodwell off. From what he’d heard about the guy, it wasn’t going to work.

She wasn’t at the hospital either.

He went up to Bella’s room. He was a little disappointed to see a different cop sitting in the chair outside her door. He’d been looking forward to asking the other guy what snacks they had in the machine. He stuck his head around the edge of the door. She was sitting up in bed, looking a hundred times better. Not so different physically, but a different person mentally and emotionally than the day before. Time and drugs had worked their magic. Although it would take a lot more time before the pain over her friend Liz’s death lost its sharp edge.

She saw him peering around the door like a small boy too scared to go in and say hello to scary old granny on her death bed.

‘Don’t be afraid to come in.’

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Much better. And sorry how I reacted over Liz. It was such a shock even though I’d been expecting it.’

He waved it off. Told her his skin was thicker than that.

‘What did you get up to last night?’ she said.

That surprised him. He wasn’t the only one Blair hadn’t shared her plans with.

‘Blair cooked me dinner.’

Her eyebrows went up, made her wince as it pulled on the stitches in her scalp.

‘She must like you.’

Yeah, he thought, enough to tell me half the truth about what the hell’s going on.

It was as good a way into the conversation he wanted to have with her as any. Nor did he feel guilty bringing it up since Blair had gotten the okay from her before she told him. Or so he thought.

‘She was telling me some of the family history.’

Her face froze momentarily as if a spike of pain had gone through her, then she worked a smile onto it.

‘Really?’

He sat on the edge of the bed. She tried to make a joke out of it.

‘Uh-oh. As bad as that, eh?’

‘She told me about you attacking Gerald Bloodwell. How you set the newspapers onto him and how he couldn’t go to the wedding because of what you did to his face.’

He grinned at her, atta girl. He’d have expected her to grin back. Or at least a smile of bitter satisfaction at the memory. He didn’t see either.

‘What else did she tell you?’

There was a nervousness in her voice he hadn’t heard before. The sickly hue from the previous day was back on her face.

‘She told me all the things he said about you. How he accused you of being a—’

‘Oh, that.’ She swiped the air with her hand as if knocking a stupid idea out of the way. ‘Yeah, well, maybe I overreacted. But the bastard had it coming.’

She’d dismissed it even before he’d come out with it all. Like it was so old hat, it didn’t warrant mentioning.

Except it didn’t feel like that to him. It felt as if she’d steered him off the subject before she even knew what exactly he was talking about. Which meant that Blair had lied