The Third Grave (Savannah #4) - Lisa Jackson Page 0,149

be assigned yet another partner. Hopefully one who was a little more forthcoming. Make that a partner who was a lot more forthcoming and a lot less complicated.

He tried to convince himself that her intentions had been good.

But he still wasn’t certain.

Probably never would be.

He heard the rumble of a huge engine and looked up to spy the school bus lumbering down the street. It stopped in front of the apartment building, its doors opening with a screech. A handful of teenagers piled out, talking and laughing, one lone boy with a backpack, nose-deep in his cell phone, bringing up the rear.

Reed was out of the car and across the street in an instant. Toby Yelkis looked up from his phone.

“I think this belongs to you.” Reed tossed the e-cigarette to Toby Yelkis and the kid snatched it out of the air, pocketing it quickly, as if his dad might appear at any second.

“It’s not mine.” He shifted his backpack from one shoulder to the other as the big bus lumbered noisily away.

“Really?” Reed sent him a look of disbelief. Reed had been waiting for Morrisette’s kid and wanted to catch him alone, so he’d waited here, at the bus stop outside of the apartment building that Bart Yelkis called home. “It’s got your initials on it.” TY. After he’d gotten out of the hospital and found the Juul in his jeans pocket, he’d initially thought the e-cigarette was marked for Tyson Beaumont, but then he remembered Toby at his mother’s funeral, that he’d been limping, perhaps because Mikado had tried to take a chunk out of his calf when he’d been in the house.

“I said, ‘It’s not mine!’” He tilted his chin up belligerently and Reed noticed the peach fuzz on his jawline, acne breaking out over his nose. An awkward age. On the precipice of manhood, where the mistakes you made could haunt you for the rest of your life. Reed remembered.

“I just don’t understand why you broke into my house.”

“I didn’t.”

Reed sighed. “I’m a cop, Toby. Don’t bullshit me.”

“Dad says you want to take me and Priscilla away.”

“Nope.” Reed shook his head. “Wouldn’t do that, unless I thought you were being harmed, you know. Or in some kind of trouble.”

“We’re fine!” More defiance.

“Good.” Reed glanced up at the sky for a second, watched a crow land in a bare branch of the solitary pine. “So the next time you come over, knock.”

Toby glowered up at him and seemed not sure about what to say. “Your wife killed Mom.”

“No, Toby.” He met the kid’s angry eyes. “Your mother died in the line of duty. My wife wasn’t making good choices that day, that’s true, but your mom, she did what she was trained to do and it was a horrid accident. If you want to know the truth, I miss her. Every day. And you do, too, but that doesn’t mean you break into someone’s house, even if it’s just to scare her, because you’re mad or hurting.”

“I . . . I . . .” Toby stared at the ground for a moment, dry leaves scattering with a gust of cool October air. “I never meant to hurt nobody.”

“I know that,” Reed said, his suspicions confirmed.

“So you’re not going to take us away.” He needed to hear it.

“As long as your dad is good to you.”

“He is.”

Reed reached into his pocket and withdrew his key chain. He unclipped his keys and handed the star to Toby. “This is for you,” he said, and the kid looked up. “It was your mom’s. I’ve had it for a while. Gave me a little pleasure, you know. Made me think she was nearby. I think she’d want you to have it.”

Toby hesitated, bit his lip, snagged the key chain from Reed and rammed it into his pocket. “You mean you stole it.”

“Borrowed it.” But Reed smiled. “You’ve got my number, right?”

Toby shrugged.

“Well, you know where I live. We’ve established that. So, if you need anything, or just you know, want to shoot the shit?”

Toby’s head snapped up and he almost smiled. Just not quite.

Reed invited, “Come on by.”

“Your dog—?”

“Will be fine with it. Just ring the bell. Don’t break in.”

Toby didn’t answer, his cell phone buzzed and he took off toward the front door of his father’s unit as the crow cawed from its wobbly tree limb.

Reed climbed into his Jeep and glanced over at the empty passenger seat. “Don’t worry,” he said as he started the engine and hoped to hell the ghost of Sylvie Morrisette was still riding shotgun. “I’ve got their backs.”