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

Texas and you know it, so stop blaming me for the loss of your marriage. I wasn’t the cause, only the result.”

“That’s a convenient argument, coming from the man who lied to me.”

“I promised her I wouldn’t tell you. I honored that.”

“What about your promise to me as a friend? What happened to that?”

“I never stopped being your friend. I tried to talk to you, but you wouldn’t even give me a chance.”

“I tend to do that when people show me their true colors.”

“My colors haven’t faded one bit. You’re just too damn stubborn to see it, or even take a trickle of blame for the giant mess that was your marriage.”

Mason’s anger bubbled up, and he set his jaw. “This is why we shouldn’t work together.”

Trick leaned forward. “This is exactly why we should. We have some things to work out. And this is the time to do it. But if you think that your issues with Cara have somehow wiped out your debt to me, then you’re wrong. I didn’t break you two up, and you know it.”

Mason grunted, and he stifled the urge to throw Trick out and leave his past behind him, but the memory of his former partner’s role in saving his life could not be forgotten, and in some part of his gut, he realized that he’d screwed up when it came to Cara. Taking a heavy breath, he made his decision. “Fine. I owe you.” He raised a finger. “But once this plays out and we figure out what’s going on, we’re even. You got that?”

“I got it. Call me Even Steven.”

Mason sighed and fell back in his chair. His days off were no longer off. “Then where do you want to start?”

Chapter Four

Mason sat at his kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea, and tried to relax. After talking to Trick that afternoon, they’d decided the first thing to do was to visit the crime scene and then talk to Cissy. Since Cissy had not yet made bail, they’d made arrangements to speak with her the next day at the jail. Then they’d headed out to Chad and Cissy’s former apartment, which had been released by the police and was now back up for rent.

It had taken an hour to get there, and once they’d arrived, they had found little to help with Cissy’s defense. The place had been cleaned and all the furniture removed. The carpets were new and vacuumed and the space sat vacant. A leasing agent had even asked if they were in the market for an apartment. A conversation with her had revealed that Cissy and Chad were good tenants. They’d paid the rent on time, going month-to-month, with hopes of buying a house of their own. The neighbors they’d spoken with said they were a quiet couple, but were well-liked, and no one had heard any arguments or fights. Most seemed to think they were happy, although none of them knew the couple well. Trick and Mason had asked to see the video footage of the apartment from the morning of the crime, but the office manager had not been in, and they would need to return later to view it.

After a long day, and drive home, they’d agreed to meet again in the morning, and decide what to target next. Chad’s business associates would need to be interviewed, plus any friends the couple had. Trick said he would find out who to contact. Mason realized though, that their best source of information would be the crime scene photos, financial records and personal information collected by the police. That would be required before they could begin to put some pieces into place. How to access it would be his next challenge.

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, glad that he was in his own place. Not long after being kicked out by his last girlfriend, Joanna, he’d decided it was time to buy a house. He’d been putting it off, mainly because of Joanna, but also because he knew the mental strain of looking would take its toll. Going into other people’s old residences often meant confronting spirits lingering in the home who wished to communicate. And sometimes, the energy of a home would feel sad or lonely, as if unaddressed regrets hovered.

New builds had been out of his price range, but it didn’t matter because they had an emptiness to them, like looking out a window at a brick wall. He preferred an older home, just not the stagnant energy that it could contain.

He recalled the day he’d found this house. Mason had felt the rightness of it the moment he’d entered. It was homey and welcoming; whomever had lived here before had been happy. The space was small but cozy, and that’s exactly what he’d wanted. He’d made on offer that day.

Leaning his head back, he listened to the soft background sounds of ocean waves playing on his sound system which helped him to relax and clear his head. He thought of Chad, Cissy and Trick, and hoped his old friend would not be disappointed by the outcome of the investigation. In Mason’s experience, it was often the spouse who was at fault, no matter how innocent they seemed. His memories of Trick flashed in his mind, and he questioned again if he should have agreed to help. Mason had done his best to let go of his former life, but Trick had brought the memories back.

A loud bang made him jump, and the tea splashed from his mug. Sitting up, he turned in his seat. It had sounded like a closing door. He stood, put the cup on the table and walked down the narrow hall toward his bedroom. Stopping outside the guest bathroom, he paused, seeing the closed door. Had he shut it?

He put his hand on the knob and opened it. It was dark and empty, but he recalled the door had been left open. A cold waft of air