Page 97 of Overkill

“As far as I see”—Braun lifted his hand—“and as far as I will tell the Gray family, Luke overdosed on his muscle relaxers and went out on his boat. He was drinking, and the combination of the two made him fall into the water, rendering all his aquatic skills useless. He was unable to save himself. Is that about the gist of it?”

I slumped in relief.

“Yeah. That about sums up what I found.”

“Well, the family will be disappointed and might demand a refund, but that’s life.” He puffed his cigar.

“I’ll pay you back every penny.”

He waved me off. “No need.”

“Really, I…I think I owe it to you—”

“You owe me a favor, pup.”

I sprang up like a lemur that just caught whiff of a predator. “Huh?”

“You got one of these?” He opened his drawer and pulled out something small, tapping it on the table.

It was a CIA coin. The size of a silver dollar with a number or nomenclature etched along the edge as some kind of identifier linking a person to that specific coin, showing they’d need to earn it back from Braun as a favor. An IOU that could be cashed at any time.

Was this Braun’s real currency? Because it was worth more than gold.

“No, I don’t. I never had any made.” It cost money to make them, but I also never thought I was important enough to have my own coin. What could a bum like me ever do for anyone else?

“Well.” He leaned back, the chair squeaking under his weight. “I suppose we’ll need to do this the old-fashioned way. With a handshake and our honor on the line.”

So we clapped hands, shook, and I swore that whenever he needed a favor from me, I would do my utmost to give it.

I drove by the police station on my way back to Melody’s. Old Man Smithy watched me from the door, and I watched him back. We nodded at one another, then went our separate ways.

Chapter 34

Mark My Words

Melody

It didn’t take long for the moment of tranquility to fall apart.

“We barely know him,” I said, shaking my head at my brother and sister. “The porch is beautiful, but we don’t know him, and he doesn’t know us. We can’t ask him to live here just like that.”

“Why not?” Marcus whined.

He had wheeled me in on the ramp he, Miriam, and Greg had set up on the stairs of the brand-new porch. Marcus was so proud to push me up, telling me they’d all worked on it together. It was pristine white and without any creaks, and, to my astonishment, the house was also clean.

Now I was in the kitchen, swatting questions about whether Greg could basically be their new father-figure.

How could I tell Marcus that we’d broken up? That I didn’t know where we stood…if we stood anywhere at all. That I couldn’t ask Greg, because I didn’t know if he’d feel forced to stay out of pity. Or maybe he’d tell me that all he wanted to do was run far, far away from the drama I always left in my wake.

And most importantly…because…

I wanted him to be the one to make the choice.

To choose me. Us. All of this.

But he hadn’t done so earlier, and I was afraid he wouldn’t do so now. When we’d arrived home, Miriam helped me into this stupid wheelchair. Greg had stayed outside by his truck, wiping down some tools.

“Doc got you all cleared?” he’d asked, nodding at us.