Lost Souls, J. Bishop [100 books to read in a lifetime .TXT] 📗

Mikey poked her head out, and Trick grinned. “Is that you, Mikey?” His eyes trailed over her. “You’ve grown up.”

Mason stiffened. “What the hell do you want, Trick?”

“Trick Monroe?” asked Mikey. “I remember you.”

“I like to make an impression.” Trick raised his hat, looking pleased with himself.

“I recall you being a lot more handsome,” said Mikey.

Trick’s face fell. “You haven’t changed much.”

“I like to make an impression, too,” said Mikey.

Mason sized up his former partner. Trick hadn’t changed much. His swagger and annoying charm remained despite their estrangement. It was a valued skill in a Ranger, or any cop. Trick could talk down a junkie threatening suicide and waving a gun better than any lawman Mason had ever witnessed. Everything in him wanted to throw Trick out, but he couldn’t do it. A tingle moved through him and Mason opened up, letting his senses guide him. A fuzzy image appeared behind Trick, and Mason watched as Trick’s grandmother came into view. Her eyes twinkled, and her silver hair sparkled. She’d died a couple of years after Trick had joined the Rangers and been partnered with Mason. Trick had invited Mason for dinner at her place a few times, and she’d been a terrific cook. Smiling, she put a hand on Trick’s shoulder and her voice echoed in Mason’s head.

Trick shifted on his feet, and then scratched his shoulder. “You gonna talk to me, or leave me standing here like a fool?”

Mason relaxed, as the older woman faded from view. “You’re lucky I liked your grandmother.”

Trick squinted, and Mikey shot him a confused look.

“She says ‘Hi’ by the way.” Mason stepped back. “Come on in.”

Trick gripped his hat. “God, are you talking to her? You still doing that dead people thing?” Trick walked in to the inner office.

Mason closed the door. “It’s my business. You know that’s why I came out here. Some Ranger you are.”

Trick put his hat on the coffee table. “I’m not a Ranger.” He paused. “Not anymore.”

“Sorry to hear it,” said Mason. Despite their falling out, Trick had always been a first-rate investigator, smart as any high-ranking officer, and a solid partner. Thinking back on their days together, Mason missed being part of a team, and relying on and talking to someone who would back you up no matter what occurred.

Mikey raised her mug. “You want some coffee?”

“Love some,” said Trick. “Thanks. Black is fine.”

Mikey nodded and headed to the coffee machine.

Mason walked to his desk and sat. “What brings you here? And don’t tell me you’re just passing through.”

Trick surveyed the room, his gaze briefly settling on the wooden box and plexiglass holder of the statues. “I barely saw you at your mom’s funeral and you disappeared before we could talk, but I wanted to tell you it’s a damn shame. She was a nice lady.”

Mason interlaced his fingers and tried not to think about his mother. It would only upset him more. “Thanks.” He waited as Trick stood anxiously, his face flat.

His mind wandering, Mason asked the question he should have avoided. “How’s Cara?”

Trick groaned and shook his head. “You just can’t let me off the hook, can you?”

Mikey finished with the coffee and brought Trick a mug. He took it and thanked her. Mikey stayed quiet, but leaned against the wall, watching.

“You don’t seem to be saying much, so I figured I’d start the conversation.” Mason leaned back and crossed his arms. “Did you think I wouldn’t bring her up?”

“You know I haven’t seen her in years,” said Trick.

“How would I know that?” asked Mason.

“Don’t you talk to her?”

“No. Why would I? My patience with her is about as non-existent as it is with you.”

Trick sipped his coffee. “Last I heard, she married. Has two kids.”

“Sorry to hear it didn’t work out,” said Mason.

Trick chuckled softly. “Sure you are.” He gestured. “You mind if I sit?”

“Why not?” asked Mason. “You typically do what you want. Why stop now?”

Mikey pushed off the wall. “You know, I have a couple errands to run.” She reached for her purse beneath the desk.

“What errands?” asked Mason.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ll think of something.” She tossed her purse strap over her shoulder. “You need anything while I’m out?”

Mason glared at Trick. “Maybe a shovel? I sense a lot of shit comin’ my way.”

Trick snorted and rolled his eyes. “While you’re at it, pick up a violin. He can play it when you come back, and you can feel sorry for him.”

Mason frowned, and Mikey winced and headed for the door. “I’ll…uhm…” She looked between the two men. “…never mind. I’ll just go.” Not getting a response, she left.

Mason told himself to stay cool. Although he hadn’t spoken to Trick in years, his old partner had not forgotten how to get under his skin, but Mason refused to be drawn into another inane discussion about his ex-wife. “How about we cut to the chase? Why did you come?”

Trick walked to the couch and sat, holding his mug. Mason stood from his desk and approached Trick, waiting to hear the answer.

Trick sighed. “Chad is dead.”

“Who?” Mason rested a hand on the back of the chair.

“Chad Howard. My stepbrother. Rudy’s kid. You met him. Remember? Kid used to follow us around like we were super heroes.”

Mason recalled a younger version of Trick with long legs and dirty hair pestering them with questions whenever they were around. “Chip?”

Trick ran a hand through his brown hair which was almost as long as Mason recalled Chip’s used to be. “Yeah. I used to call him that. Kid could eat a bag of chips faster than a pile of racoons.” He hung his head. “He grew up, though. Came out here last year for employment with his new wife. Her name’s Cissy. Cissy found him dead on their sofa three weeks ago in their living room. She’d gone out for groceries.” Trick paused. “He’d been shot in the head.”

Recalling Chad, Mason’s heart thumped, and he remembered how attached Chad and Trick had been. Even though