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Until my grandmother asked them to leave because Alessio’s mother ‘couldn’t control her son.’
“They lived on Grandmother’s property. In the old carriage house at the very back. Grandmother fired her because Alessio kept coming onto the main part of the property,” I recalled grimly.
“Alessio is Murphy.” She dropped that bombshell.
I opened my mouth, then closed it.
“What?” I gasped.
“Yep, and he hates me because when they were kicked out of Grandmother’s house, they had to live out of their car for almost a month before his mother was able to find more work.” She shook her head. “I fucking hate our grandmother.”
Speaking of our grandmother…
“She called me today while I was in bed with Taos. I ignored it, and she’s called me every fifteen minutes since.” I pulled out my phone and showed her all of the missed calls. “She hasn’t stopped.”
“She won’t stop until you answer.” Mavis snickered.
She was right. My grandmother thought she was above all the most important person in the world. If the President of the United States, the Queen of England, and God himself were in the same room, my grandmother would expect to be served lunch first.
She was that selfish.
Mavis pulled to a stop outside of an apartment building and parked.
I frowned hard at the location.
It was one of the nicer places in town. An apartment complex that was newly built, had state-of-the-art security, and was so hard to get into that there was a year-long waiting list.
“Why are we here?” I asked finally.
“This is where Heather Trudell lives.” She paused. “The reporter who thought she would be funny by plastering your name and face all over the newspaper.”
My brows rose. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she snarled then got out.
That was when I realized why she’d asked Murphy how to take a driveshaft out.
Because, over the next ten minutes, Mavis grunted and grumbled as she did just that.
I sat in the back of the van, watching the newest Hotel Transylvania with Vlad, and tried not to think about how many laws we were breaking.
And, of course, like clockwork, the cops showed.
I reached over and closed the van door, hoping beyond hope that they wouldn’t notice me sitting back here.
My luck didn’t hold out.
CHAPTER 21
You suck less than most people.
-Taos to Madden
TAOS
“I’m sorry, but can you repeat that? I don’t think I heard you correctly.” I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose.
I was knee-deep in serial killer bullshit when I got the call from an officer that I’d met only a few times before.
“We have your girlfriend here with a baby and that baby’s mother. They say they know you,” Officer Shane explained again.
I sighed. “Where is here? And what did they do?”
I had no clue that Fran had it in her, honestly.
“Fran didn’t actually do anything,” Shane explained. “It was the sister. They were asked to leave. The sister refused until she could finish taking a driveshaft out of a car. Then she loaded it into her van, locked the doors, then we took them all in. Her van’s been towed by Murphy’s Garage, and I don’t know what to do with them.”
I had no clue what to say to that, to be honest.
“You never said where they are,” I grumbled.
“Well…” Shane hesitated. “We’re at the police station because Heather Trudell wanted to press charges.”
I groaned at the reporter’s name.
“I’m here,” I grumbled as I stood up.
Schultz, Easton and the chief all followed me outside, having heard quite a bit of the conversation since about halfway through, I’d put it on speaker for them to hear.
The chief was laughing quietly as he followed behind.
I, on the other hand, didn’t find it nearly as funny.
Mostly because I knew without a shadow of a doubt that it hadn’t been Fran’s idea.
It’d likely been Mavis’s.
I found out exactly whose idea it was two seconds later when I arrived outside to hear Murphy yelling at Mavis.
“You have a fucking kid, Mavis. You can’t just go getting arrested and expect to keep your job,” Murphy growled.
“Well,” Mavis snarled right back. “I was just having my sister’s back. Since, you know, that fucking whore right there,” she pointed at Heather Trudell, “decided to plaster my sister’s face, her goddamn home address, and her motherfuckin’ business in the damn paper all because she’s a little twat who thinks that she can ruin people’s lives! And, let’s not forget, it’s not going to just annoy her. It’s got Fran’s freakin’ head on a platter sitting directly in front of a serial killer that’s killing people that look exactly like her!”
“Fuck,” I hissed.
Fran’s eyes turned to me, and I realized my mistake. I’d been kicking the clues around in my head and trying to put my finger on the connection between all of the women. The part that I couldn’t quite lock onto fell into place.
