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She opened her mouth to assure him it wouldn’t come to that, then closed it again. How could she know for certain? She chose her next words carefully. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m trying to do everything I can to prove his alibi. Do you know something that can help him?”
Billy stared out the window for so long, she began to think he wasn’t going to answer. They passed through the older part of town and headed to the university district before he finally said, “I think I might know who robbed that ATM.”
Cora kept her game face on—the calm, cool one with the bland expression—but inside she was spinning like a weather vane in a windstorm.
“I overheard someone complaining about it last Saturday,” Billy continued. “Saying how he tried to steal an old guy’s wallet, but he got beat up instead.”
“Does this guy have a name?”
Billy twisted his hands in his lap. “If I tell you, you gotta promise not to mention me. He’s a real mean son of a bitch. If he ever found out I snitched on him, it would be bad. And I’m not just talking about this.” He gestured to his bruised face.
Cora swallowed hard. The idea of anyone hurting Billy made her sick to her stomach. She’d never put him in harm’s way or do anything to jeopardize his safety. “I swear your name will never come up, Billy. Not ever.”
The tension drained from his face. Billy obviously trusted her, and it made her want to pull the car over and hug him, but she refrained. Even though she thought of him as a vulnerable kid, she knew he’d want to be treated like an adult. And hell, why shouldn’t he be treated like a grown-up? He’d probably seen things she could only imagine, which was saying a lot.
“I’ll give you his name because I don’t want Liam to go to jail,” Billy said. “Liam’s cool, you know? It’s not right for him to get accused for something he didn’t do.”
Cora pulled the car into the city library parking lot.
Billy looked like she’d just handed him a lemon and told him to eat it. “Why are we here?”
“Because we need a safe place to talk. You think the bad man you’re talking about spends his Monday afternoons at the city library?”
For the first time since he approached her, Billy grinned. “Hells, no.”
“Exactly,” Cora said, smiling back. “So, let’s talk.”
Three hours later, Cora leaned across the picnic table at a local park, batting her eyes at a sleazeball in polyester track pants. Cecil Watmuff had slicked-back hair and a T-shirt with a medical cross and the phrase Orgasm Donor on the chest. Fun times. Honest to God, if anyone told her she’d be fake flirting with a man known as Crack Rock Cecil a week ago, she’d have laughed in their face. But, desperate times, and all that.
They were sitting at an old park by the river on the north end of the city. Though it had a playground and baseball diamond, there was an area where the trees grew thick along the river’s edge, and wild blackberry bushes obscured the few picnic tables. Because of the secluded location, it was the perfect place for a man like Cecil. A shady spot for shady dealings.
Cora had chosen her approach carefully, wearing just her tank top and jeans, making sure to flip her hair a few times for good measure as she strolled past. It didn’t take long before Cecil threw her a wolf whistle, and a few minutes later, Cora was sitting at his bench listening to him yammer on about himself. Man, this guy was a talker. It made her job easier because all she had to do was simper and nod. Cora’s plan was sketchy, at best. Any second now, if Billy’s information was correct, Cecil would break out his pipe and stash of weed. She was going to try to slap Cecil with possession charges, and then bluff like crazy during the interrogation, in hopes that he’d confess to the ATM mugging. It wasn’t a solid plan, but it was more than she had when she went to work that morning.
Cecil’s watery gaze slithered down Cora’s body, lingering a little too long on her chest. “So, little girl.” Because all women just loved being called little girl. Awesome. “You wanna party?”
Cora showed lots of teeth, hoping it passed for a smile. She twirled a lock of hair in her fingers. “What did you have in mind?”
Cecil stood up, skirted the picnic table and came to stand in front of her. She pretended to check her phone, because she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stay in character. It was one thing to flirt, but another thing having to follow through with said flirting. She knew there was a patrol car in the parking lot just one yell away. Rob Hopper was waiting on the other side of the trees, so if anything bad happened, she was covered.
“Let Cecil take care of you.” He pulled a bag from his pocket, withdrawing a single joint and waving it like a magic wand. “My specialty. I call it Wings. Just a couple of hits and you’ll be flying.” He laughed at himself, then settled next to Cora, close enough that their thighs touched. She tried not to cringe when the stench of unwashed skin and stale cigarettes wafted over her. Thirty-seven excruciating seconds later—because she was counting—Cecil finally lit up the joint, took a couple of hits and passed it to her.
Showtime.It all happened faster than he could bat a bloodshot eye.
Lightning quick, Cora pulled handcuffs from her back pocket and snapped them on his wrist. Before he even had a chance to exhale, she was reading him his rights. Rob emerged from the screen of trees to help apprehend him. They dragged him to the parking lot and shoved him in the police car, Cecil spewing foul curses the entire way to the station.
Once they had Cecil secured in the interrogation room, Captain Thompson and Rob stood on the other side of the one-way glass to observe the questioning.
When Cora entered the room, Cecil launched into a long, cuss-filled tirade. She took the chair opposite him, waiting for him to finish. It was amazing just how much this guy liked to hear himself talk. After insulting her, her mother, her gender and the rest of the Providence Falls police force, he finally lapsed into mulish silence. Oh, miracle of miracles.
“Are you quite finished, Mr. Watmuff?” Cora asked calmly.
Apparently not. He sucked in an angry breath and started up again. Gah! She shouldn’t have asked. This time he insulted the institution, The Man and the government. Cora waited patiently. When, at last, he ended his rant with his opinions on legalizing marijuana and other drugs, Cora released a heavy sigh.
“You think you’re in here just for passing me a joint, Mr. Watmuff?” she asked. “We have you on way more charges than that.”
Cecil let out a derisive snort, but he seemed nervous. “Nice try, lady.”
Cora crossed her arms. She’d gone from “little girl” to “lady” in less than an hour. Moving up in the world. “How’s armed robbery and grand theft auto sound? The Gas n’ Go ring a bell?”
