Spooky Business (The Spectral Files #3) - S.E. Harmon Page 0,93

to know who killed Joey, maybe you should ask that dude.”

“Absolutely,” I said dryly. “I’ll just put out a BOLO for that dude. Any other descriptors?”

“Drove a souped-up black Silverado.” He lifted his bony shoulders again. “I only got half the tag.”

“You were thinking about boosting his ride, weren’t you?”

“Hey, you want the information or not?” He snapped. “He was pretty built. Tall with dark hair. He was wearing a plaid shirt, I think. And he had a thick beard.”

So I was looking for Paul Bunyan. I sighed. “I don’t suppose a blue ox named Babe was waiting in his truck.”

“Huh?”

I silently added a count of not knowing common folklore in the first degree to his arrest. “What did you do after you heard this argument?”

“What else could I do? I left.”

“Are you sure?” I sent him an appraising look. I can’t imagine a hothead like Dillon Cooper giving up with good grace. “Do you have an alibi for the day Joey died?”

“Probably. The hell if I know what it is, though,” he said. “That was a long time ago, man. I barely remember what I did last week.”

“Boosting cars,” I reminded him dryly. “That seems to keep you plenty busy with your pal Bondo.”

The set of his mouth was mutinous. “Whatever.”

Yeah, I was feeling a bit whatever myself. “Just so you know, if you’d told me that story when I first came in the damn door, you’d still be folding laundry with your girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Then who was that hellion who threw laundry detergent at my head?”

“She did that?” His face lit up as though I’d just given him lotto numbers. “Caryn’s my ex. I’m trying to get her back.”

Maybe she’ll write you in prison. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying it aloud, and we marched on.

By the time we got back to the laundromat, the scene was a lot busier than when we’d left. An ambulance was there and three other black-and-whites, lights on, sirens off. Dillon’s ex-girlfriend sat on a bench outside of the building, biting her thumbnail. When she spotted us, she shot to her feet.

I handed him off to one of the uniformed officers and pointed at her. “He doesn’t speak to anyone, including her, until the PTU does a formal interview.”

“Got it,” the officer nodded and opened his back door. “Watch your head,” he reminded Dillon before helping him in the car. His head was nowhere near the door jamb, but he let out an overdramatic “ow” anyway.

I hustled over to Danny, wondering why he was just standing there. He had his hands on his hips as he frowned at something in the back of the ambulance. Where the hell was Kevin, and why was the ambulance still here? Was he already dead? Had they called for the coroner?

I was in something of a tizzy by the time I reached the bus. It took me a moment to process what I was looking at—the back half of Kevin as he bent over, his elbows on the floor of the ambulance. An EMT I’d met a couple of crime scenes ago, Ashton Smith, was squatted down by Kevin’s feet, pawing through a bag of medical supplies.

“It’s not even that big,” Danny said.

“I just want them to get it out.”

“It didn’t even go in. You’d think no one ever touched you back there.”

“No one does, thank you very much.”

Danny snorted. “Your loss,” he said, which Ashton seemed to find hilarious.

I cleared my throat, and they all turned to face me. Well, Danny and Ashton turned. Kevin twisted the best he could to peer at me over his shoulder. I raised an eyebrow. “If you guys are finally going to fuck, you could at least try to be sneaky. It’s just common decency.”

Danny chuckled. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say.” I took in the rip on the seat of Kevin’s khakis and let out a long whistle. A singed and burned mark formed an angry line across his left butt cheek. “It looks like someone got shot in the ass.”

Kevin sent me a dirty look. “I missed you, too, Christiansen.”

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” I said sincerely, and he flipped me the bird before turning back around with a piteous moan.

Ashton started to ask Kevin questions, and we stood back as he answered them as dramatically as possible. When Ashton snapped on a pair of purple gloves like he meant business, Kevin let out an