Jade came to my side, breathing hard, braid half-loose and eyes bright with fury. “You okay?”
“Ribs,” I said. “Not broken.”
“Your optimism is medically unsupported.”
“I’m fine.”
“You can be fine after someone with a badge looks at you.”
“I don’t have a badge.”
“Not you, Tolliver.”
I took out my phone.
Annette’s name sat near the top of my recent calls, but this went past North Fork first. I called emergency services.
“I need deputies at the storage facility outside Whispering Pines,” I said. “Back row, third lane, unit B-19. One restrained suspect, Ike Pendleton. He came armed with a pry bar and admitted a plan to stage Crystal Kemp’s death. No shots fired. Three civilians alive, one suspect restrained to a work truck, and physical records on scene.”
“Does the suspect still have access to the weapon?” the dispatcher asked.
“No,” I said. “Pry bar is out of reach. We’ll stay visible when deputies come through the gate.”
Then I called Annette.
She answered on the first ring. “Tell me you’re not calling from a ditch.”
“I’m not calling from a ditch.”
“I hate that I’m relieved by that sentence. Where are you?”
“At the storage facility outside Whispering Pines. The material frame-up is verified. Evidence is secured. Crystal Kemp isn’t a clean pickup.”
Silence hit her end.
Then Annette said, “Dex.”
“I’m walking away from the bounty.”
She didn’t answer right away.
Behind me, Crystal sat on the concrete curb near the unit with the banker box between her feet, one hand pressed over the key beneath her sweater, the other wrapped around the flash drive bag. Jade stood between Crystal and Ike, tire iron in hand, daring the whole world to comment.
Annette’s voice softened by half an inch. “Are you hurt?”
“Bruised. Nothing serious.”
“Kemp?”
“Shaken. Alive. With records.”
“And your identification issue?”
My attention went to Jade.
She met it, face dirty, hair coming out of the braid, jaw tight with the effort of not shaking.
“My identification issue is why we’re all still breathing,” I said.
