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“Okay, while thatmightbe true, it does not absolve you of this heinous crime. What were you even doing?” Lake asked, grimacing for effect. It wasn’t that bad, really. Lake had definitely found himself in places that smelled far worse. It didn’t make itbetter.
“Fishing a child out of a river.”
“Well, that was more heroic than I was expecting.”
“It wasn’t heroic at all. A shoplifting young teenager decided that crossing a river that was more sludge than water would help him get away. We didn’t formally arrest him, but Quinn is with him at the station now, and hopefully by the time he leaves, he’ll have learned his lesson.”
“You lead an interesting life, Grady Donehue,” Lake said, smiling broadly. Lake wasn’t easily upset, but when he was, it was hard sometimes for him to pull himself out of that. Grady made it so effortless for him. Like he knew that when his detective was near, nothing was going to hurt him, nothing could sneak up behind him and catch him unawares.
“Grady,” Detective Clark said loudly, joining them and slapping Grady on the back. “Glad you could make it!” His upper lip curled. “You smell like a toilet,” he said with a laugh.
“Fuck off,” Grady said automatically. “Do you need Lake for anything more?”
“Nah, we got his statement. And he’ll get us his number when he gets a new one”—Lake nodded in agreement to the statement, though he wasn’t planning on getting a new number if he could help it, just a new phone—“Unless you want to stick around and—”
“No,” Grady interrupted abruptly. He squinted at something in the distance. “What is Ange doing?”
Detective Clark turned and then grinned at where Detective Thomas had her cuffs dangling menacingly in her hand as she spoke to Dixon. “He’s a mouthy knob,” Gideon said. “She’s just teaching him manners.”
“Did he say something to you?” Grady asked Lake.
“Nothing of any value,” Lake replied. He wondered what Grady would have done if he’d said yes. He was tempted to say it, just to find out. Would he go white knight? Lake would have been lying if he said he didn’t want to see that. Grady would have been the most valiant of knights if he’d been born in medieval times.
Grady looked like he didn’t believe Lake but didn’t comment, instead asking, “Do you have everything you need out of your car?”
Lake nodded mutely. He already had his wallet and house keys. The car keys were still in the ignition, but he didn’t need them. And his phone was unsalvageable, so there was no point. The sim wouldn’t have made it; there was no way. He wouldn’t be able to recover all the numbers he’d had on there, but he could at least get the important ones and slowly start to get the rest over time. It sucked that all his high scores on his apps were gone, but it was a small price to pay. At least it had been his phone and not another person.
“Okay, let’s go. Call me if you need to get a hold of him,” Grady said to Detective Clark.
Detective Clark had a glint in his eye that Lake was curious about as he said, “Will do.”
Lake didn’t get a chance to ask, though, as Grady dragged him away with a firm hand around his elbow.
Grady had left his car on, with the air conditioning running, and it was a nice cool blast to Lake’s face as he slipped into the passenger seat. Even the smell of whatever the fuck Grady had been wading through couldn’t detract from it.
“Could I call my brother?” Lake asked as he strapped himself in and Grady did a U-turn back into traffic that had Lake glancing at the hair on his forearms as the muscles flexed.
Grady pointed to the glovebox. “Phone is in there. Code is 2-4-5-8.”
“That’s next-level trust, Grady. Are you asking me to go steady?” Lake teased.
“If that’s how they do it in your neck of the woods, I can see why you’ve been having such bad luck with dates,” Grady drawled. “Besides, I can change it later.” He cracked open their windows a quarter of the way down as they sped down the road. The fresh air was a balm to the smell that Grady was trying to inflict on them both.
Lake chuckled as he typed in Avery’s number, pressed Send, and then flicked it to Speaker. His brother would be at his shop, but he kept his phone on him, and if he wasn’t busy, he would answer. It was early afternoon, and Lake was pretty sure there was always a lull in there somewhere.
“Hello?” Avery answered tentatively. “If you’re a telemarketer, let me tell you right now you can shove whatever you’re trying to sell right up your—”
Lake barked out a laugh, and Avery cut off. “Damn. I bet you make them cry.”
“They prey on innocent people and try to scam them. I hope I fucking make them cry.” Avery paused. “Why are you calling me on a blocked number? Did you lose your phone again? I’m not coming with you to buy a new one.”
“That’s kind of rude,” Lake said with a grin. “What if I need emotional support?”
“You spenttwo hourscontemplating which one you wanted and then anothertwenty fucking minutesdeciding between colours. You can take your emotional support and stick it the same place the telemarketer could stick whatever they were trying to sell.”
“No one was trying to sell anything,” Lake said, another laugh slipping out. His brother was fun. “It was me, remember? What’s going on? You seem more ornery than usual,” he remarked.
“Did you know?” Avery answered. “That I am the biggest asshole in theentireworld because I won’t return something that has beenopened, used,and they don’t have a receipt for.”
