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I roll my eyes, but at myself.That’s true.The Doran boys, judging from those cell phones Hawke found in Carnival Tower, had a nefarious plan.
But still, that’s not proof they actually went through with anything.
“The Pirates aren’t happy with me being here,” I point out. “What if it was them? What if Shelburne Falls killed her?”
He’s quiet, and I can almost picture his eyes shooting up to the ceiling as I hear the quiet sigh, because I just made his pursual of this legend a lot more complicated.
“I’ll let you know what I find,” he finally says.
“Love ya,” I tell him, my tone apologetic.
“Bye.”
We hang up, and I check the time. It’s just after ten.
I glance over at Hunter’s bedroom window again, still not seeing any lights on.
I’m not sneaking into his room for my vibrator. I’d rather use it with him.
But I’m not tired yet, either.
Sweeping my hair up into a ponytail, I pull off my sweater and slip into a black T-shirt, grabbing my jacket on the way back out of the house.
I step onto the porch, seeing Constin and Luca pull up in front of Hunter’s and grab a duffel bag out of the trunk. They carry it over to Farrow who stands just outside his and Hunter’s front door. He looks inside and nods, taking it from them. They glance at me, and I look away, suddenly feeling like I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see.
Farrow works for Green Street. I keep forgetting that.
He wouldn’t keep illegal things in the house, would he? With Hunter there?
I spot Coral’s car across the street and spy a group of girls in the barber shop. It’s late for it to be open, but I don’t think that guy keeps regular business hours. Fletcher’s sign, the letters that still light up anyway, is on all the time.
I jog across the street.
Entering the shop, I see Coral in the chair, one foot propped up on the counter as the elderly dude shaves the back of her head. Everything above her ears is parted and wrapped in two buns, one on the left side and one on the right, the bottom half not quite bald as he etches a butterfly into the back of her scalp. She drinks from a tumbler filled with ice and something pink.
Mace sits in the chair along the storefront window, and I almost don’t notice Tommy Dietrich leaning against the opposite wall by the old Coke machine.
She stares at me.
No one says hi.
I approach Coral. “How much have you had to drink?”
She looks up at me, and I drop my eyes to her tumbler.
“Why, you want some?” she asks, chewing gum.
“No, I need you to drive.” I pull on my jacket, buttoning it up. “I’d like to get rid of what’s in your trunk.”
I’m not really concerned I’ll get in trouble for stealing the locker. Anyone would understand why I got rid of it, but I don’t want it getting put back. I need to make sure no one will ever find it.
“You have any money?” Coral asks me.
I refrain from mentioning the fireworks and party I—well, Hawke—paid for. I simply say, “No.”
“Then how do you expect to pay me for my time?”
I open my mouth to question how valuably she spends her time otherwise, but I decide to play nice. “What would you like?”
