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Keith is brainwashed through and through. He’s my go-to man when it comes to taking care of the dead, and he’s scattered more than a few bodies in the vicinity for me. And he puts them exactly where I tell him to. But he’s friends with Grady. My guess is that’s how Grady got ahold of the body. Keith must have either taken him right to her or told him where to find her.
Grady is a chef, but he used to be a forager. He still has enough access to the vans. A van can take you all the way up to Cheyenne if you wanted.
“No, I’m not going to kill you,” I say, pulling my hunting knife out of its sheath. “You’re going to do the killing tonight.”
“What?” He takes a stumbling step back, and for a second I’m convinced he’ll try to run. But he knows better. These woods are rigged every which way with an entire land mine of animal traps, but they work for humans even better.
“You heard me.” I hand him the knife. “Make it quick. I don’t want to see her suffer.”
“No,” the girl shrieks and tries to run, but Keith gathers her in his arms and clamps a hand over her mouth.
“Do it now,” I thunder at Grady. “It’s your last chance to prove your loyalty to me. I know what you’ve done.”
His eyes latch to mine.
If he’s smart, he’s thinking one of two things—that he’ll be dead if he doesn’t. Or that if he does do the deed, it’ll buy him time to plot his own escape. Frankly, I’m shocked he’s still here. But Emily had a kid. He probably thinks it’s his.
He takes the knife from me and his eyes gloss over as he looks at the girl.
“I’m sorry,” he says before he slashes a quick line across her throat, deep and lethal. It took both muscle and determination, and he grunts as he tosses the knife to the ground at my feet.
“Good,” I say as Keith drops the body and picks up the knife. “Now finish the job,” I tell him.
Grady turns to run, but I trip him with my foot, and soon Keith is on him, slashing his throat as well.
“Clean it up,” I say. “You’ll get your reward. You always do.”
I walk right out of the woods as if it never happened.
It all feels like a bad dream anyway.
17
Special Agent Fallon Baxter
When Jack asked me out for a wild night on the town, I thought he was being ironic and that we might end up noshing on pastrami sandwiches down by the lake. But we hopped in his truck and rode for nearly an hour until he pulled into the Boulder Beauties Gentlemen’s Club.
“Okay,” I say, switching off the radio. “Is this why you blasted loud music all the way down? Afraid I was going to ask questions?”
“You seem to know which button to push to make it stop.” He flashes a short-lived smile my way. “I take it you were afraid I would be the one asking questions.”
A silent laugh bounces through me. It’s true. I wasn’t looking forward to Jack snooping around as to why I took yesterday off. Hale said it wasn’t a problem and he certainly didn’t pry. I like people who don’t pry. I’m not so sure Jack is one of them.
“Fair enough,” I say, glancing up at the neon sight that boasts of a woman nearly flashing her bottom. Her hand is pressed over her lips as if she were surprised we were looking.
Honestly, I’m shocked as hell myself.
“Is this where you take all the girls? Or am I just special?”
“You’re definitely special,” he says, killing the engine. “As in Special Agent Baxter. Nikki and I poked around after Paradise and it led to this place. She said you could take it with me.”
“That was nice.” I frown over at the wood-rotted facility. The double doors are solid, no windows to speak of. A smattering of men bob in and out of the building, their heads pointed to the ground as if they were committing a crime. And considering half of them are probably married or wrapped up in some sort of a romantic entanglement, they definitely are committing something. “All right. Fill me in on the details.”
“Her name is Heather Smiley. She has some sort of a connection to Paradise,” he says before filling in the rest of the gaps regarding the best smoked brisket he’s ever had. “I’ll have to take you there sometime. Anyway, she dances as Scarlett Blaze. Her set starts at ten.”
We hop out and head for the door.
“Wait a minute,” I say, checking my watch. “It’s only nine. That’s a whole hour from now.”
