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Though I’d handled hundreds of corpses before, a shudder went through me as I peeled frost-stiffened newspaper away from Grayson Seeger’s face. His eyes were open, clouded and shocked. Frozen mud and blood caked his hair, and grey matter leaked from where his skull caved inward a couple of inches above his left ear. Baseball bat. One shot, and lights out, just like that. He’d been so animated and friendly last night at the movie. And now here he was . . .
“Fucking hell,” I muttered, wiping at my eyes with my sleeve. “Goddamn it, you stupid fucks.” No denying it now. Coy and Judd were responsible for a vicious, senseless murder. I liked Coy and hated to see him get in trouble, but I was pretty sure Grayson Seeger had liked having his head attached.
And now Randy was in deep shit, all because he wanted to help Coy out, but how far had he gone? I needed to call Detective Ben Roth. Except I sure as shit couldn’t tell him that I’d destroyed evidence. I couldn’t even tell him I’d suspected the guys were involved and decided to go search their residences on my own. Yeah, that would be a quick trip to handcuff-ville. No, I’d have to spin him one hell of a yarn and tell him I’d been thinking about the murder, point him in the right direction. Ben was sharp. He’d figure it out.
But Randy would burn. He wasn’t a murderer. He was simply too loyal a friend to Coy. I wanted to give him a chance to do the right thing, to fess up. Maybe he could scrape off some of the shit and catch a break with the law.
There was only one hitch. If the guys came back after the hunt tonight and ditched all this evidence—which I had zero doubt they planned to do—they might just get away with murder. And Seeger deserved better than that.
Fine. I’d make sure they couldn’t get rid of all the evidence. Easily taken care of with a smear of Seeger’s blood on the bottom of the table leg. It wasn’t immediately obvious, but a thorough search would turn it up.
DNA, bitches.
I started to rewrap the head then paused, salivating. Screw it. If my guess was right, the head would be in its new home in the swamp in the next couple of hours. Waste not, want not, and all that crap. I pried up a section of skull, dug out two good-sized handfuls of the brain slush beneath and gulped them down. Sorry, Seeger, but if I’m gonna find justice for you, I need a boost.
After I washed the brain slush off my gloved hands, I re-wrapped the head and shoved it beneath the frozen skins, then got the ever-loving hell out of there.
Chapter 18
After I left Coy’s garage, I drove around aimlessly to do some serious thinking.
Randy was involved. I had zero doubt. But I did doubt that he’d been there when the murder happened. As squirrelly as he was acting, he’d be a thousand times worse if he’d been there when the dude got his head chopped off. Randy wasn’t violent or mean—his lawbreaking tended toward smoking weed and the occasional chop of a stolen car. He’d fight when provoked, but it took a lot to provoke him.
But even if he didn’t help kill the guy, he was helping those other two idiots. If he got caught, he’d be in shit nearly as deep as theirs. I needed to try and talk a bit of damn sense into him. I owed him that much.
No. That wasn’t true. I didn’t owe him anything. But he was my friend. And I couldn’t stand idly by and watch him sink himself. That said, I wouldn’t let him sink me either.
Resolved, I pulled out my phone and signed into the Tribe’s encrypted email account. Every detail I knew and suspected about the murder, including tonight’s discoveries, went into an email addressed to Brian and Dr. Nikas. I finished up by detailing my plan to reason with Randy and that, if I didn’t email or call by morning, they should do whatever needed to be done with all this info.
With that bit of life insurance sent, I ate two packets of brains then retrieved the Kel-Tec PF9 from the glove box, placed the gun on the seat and headed to Randy’s place.
The driveway was empty, but I figured I wouldn’t have long to wait. The Fest crap had ended not too long ago, and I doubted that he’d be going out partying after. I chambered a round in my gun and clipped the holster into my waistband at the small of my back, then went and sat on his trailer steps. It was a nice clear night, the stars were out, and the mosquitos weren’t interested in my zombie blood.
Less than ten minutes later, Randy pulled into the driveway in his Charger. I caught a look at his face as he registered my presence, and it was full of what the fuck. For an instant I thought he’d stop and back right on out, but he must have known I’d follow him. I was stubborn and bitchy like that.
He parked next to my car, climbed out and managed to give me a crooked smile. “Hey, Angel. Did I forget we were gonna do firepit or something?”
I stayed right where I was and didn’t smile back. “We need to talk, Randy.”
Dismay lit his eyes, but he shook his head. “It’s been a long day, babe. I wanna get a shower and drop into bed.”
“And it’s gonna get longer if you don’t give me ten minutes right now.” I stood at the sight of headlights coming through the gate, narrowed my eyes. “Who’s that?”
“It’s just Coy,” Randy said with a shrug as he headed toward me, but I didn’t miss the tension in his shoulders.
My pulse gave a little flutter. At least it wasn’t Judd. Tanked on brains, I could deal with these two if things went tits up. I hoped. “You two planning to up your zombie body count?”
Randy stopped in his tracks. “What the fuck is up with you, Angel?”
“The fuck is up with me?” I shot back. “What the fuck is up with you being involved in a murder?”
Shock flashed across his face before he gave a strained laugh. “You’re a real kidder.”
I kept my expression
stony. My heart beat an intense staccato as Coy parked on the other side of my car. “Hey, Coy. You need to hear this too.”
He gulped as if holding back the urge to spew. “What’s going on?”
