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Bullshit. “Am I a suspect? Nope, didn’t think so. Anything else?”
“One thing I’ve learned over the years, Calvin.” Agent Marshall dipped down so we were eye to eye, the wise old sage routine down pat. “Is never to underestimate an Ashby. Your old man died at just the right time for Sadie to take over, and The Crusaders keep coming up missing with every trip to Glitz.”
I shrugged again. “The desert is a barren, unwelcoming place. Most people aren’t cut out for it, and they don’t learn that lesson until it’s too late.”
“Was that a threat?” Agent Beck already had her hand at her waistband. “Did you just threaten a federal law enforcement officer?”
I chuckled. “Did you hear me threaten anyone or are you looking to lose your little bungalow and pension in a civil suit?” Agent Beck might be used to dealing with gangbangers and low level gangsters who thought being tough meant acting tough. But she’d learn the Ashbys were a different beast altogether.
Marshall nodded at her to back off, but Beck wasn’t easily deterred. “What about Wyatt Greene? Know anything about his death?”
I shook my head, happy I could truthfully say, “I don’t know the guy.”
“Interesting you don’t know him since his girlfriend is now living at your house.” Agent Beck’s sarcasm was about as subtle as a sixteen-year-olds.
“What does that have to do with anything? Thanks to your brothers in blue arresting her without any fucking proof, Bonnie lost everything. Her parents kicked her out and cut her off. Were you gonna move her in with you, Agent Beck? How about you Marshall? Yeah, I didn’t think so. Never met the guy, and I didn’t know he even existed until Bonnie found out he was dead and made all the other shit that much worse.” I smiled and shook my head. “It’s almost as if law enforcement single-handedly fucked up her life. A poor little church girl, now forced to take up with the big bad Ashbys.” Before either of the agents could say another word, my phone chimed and I picked it up. “Yeah?”
“It’s done,” Virgil said.
“Nothing at all,” I added breezily. “Just having a chat with Agents Marshall and Beck. Order me a big fat fucking cheeseburger. I’ll be there soon.” I ended the call, giving Virgil the info he needed just in case, and looked up into skeptical brown eyes. “Anything else?”
“We tell you when we’re done,” Beck barked.
I glared at her and nodded. “Okay, then. Am I being detained for the U-turn, which is allowed on this street?”
Her mouth opened and then shut, floundering like a fish plucked from the safety of water. “No.”
“Am I suspected of committing a crime?”
“Nothing I can prove. Yet,” Beck muttered to herself.
“When you can, you know where to find me. Have a good day.” I drove away with a smile on my face, but it quickly faded as I thought about everything the Feds had distracted me from.
Bonnie.
And possibly Brendan Rhymer.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Bonnie
After thoroughly searching for just one pill to get me through the day, I found nothing. Not even a little bit of powder to show I once had pills somewhere. Anywhere.
The only thing I could think of was that Calvin had found them and took them. Since I promised him thirty days of no pills, I had to find a way to get more.
That required me to be a little creative in scoring what I needed to get through my deal with Cal, which meant a trip to a small unincorporated town on the edge of Mayhem.
I shut off the engine of my little blue car and gave the steering wheel an affectionate caress before I stepped out. The nondescript strip mall contained a Mexican restaurant, a pharmacy, a smoke shop, and the business that took up one-third of the space, Clarendon Pain Clinic.
The bank of windows had the shades half-drawn to keep out the early morning sun, yet the waiting room was already standing room only.
I took a deep breath and wrapped my hand around the flat metal door handle, letting the breath out as I stepped inside. The waiting area was mostly silent, a little musty and stuffy, with everyone focused on dealing with their pain. Getting in and out without any problems. It was the one thing that united us all, our pain.
That and our desire to find doctors who didn’t ask too many questions like how many refills have you had? How long has your pain lasted? Who is your current physician? Those were intrusive questions that would guarantee you’d walk out without what you needed. And, like I told Calvin, I was a quick study.
“Hey Travis, how’s it going?” I said, as calmly as I could. Travis was the Physician’s Assistant and default receptionist for the clinic. He was also a nice guy with long blond hair and sparkling blue eyes that today looked at me in anger. And fear.
