One Hit Wonder Page 4

  I paced my walk to LC, scanning the area for anything I might have missed in the dark.

  Leo caught up to me. “I hope you give this experience serious consideration. I’m not sure you’ve got it in you to take photos of scenes. Rawlings and I submitted your performance evaluation to your professor today.”

  I stopped by LC’s hood and put my hand on the top, leaning against it because I was slightly winded. The flu was moving into a chest cold.

  I fanned at the beads of sweat on my forehead. “Let me guess. You were less than flattering with your evaluation of my skillset. Even though I did two scenes, and neither was something as simple as taking pictures of a wrecked car. And also, you evaluated me before seeing the pictures.” Dick move in my opinion.

  “I said you’re skilled. But I also said I don’t think you’re cut out for this. You’re too personally involved.”

  “This scene is personal. I grew up with Ms. Trina.” Who was he to tell me how to feel?

  Leo crossed his arms and stared down his nose at me. “Every scene is personal. What if Junior had been killed by that deer?”

  Something I hadn’t considered.

  “Or maybe you get called out to take a picture of a scene of someone you don’t know. But that scene is personal to the people who are impacted by it. Maybe they’ve lost a loved one. You can’t unsee what happens out here, Samantha. It’ll leave you jaded. It’ll change you.”

  I was worried about that exact same thing. But this was my life. He didn’t have a say in it. I studied him. “You seem to be doing okay. Or is it your natural buttheadedness helps you deal with being jaded?”

  Had I not taken flu medicine with the possible side effects of hallucinations, I could have sworn Leo’s lips twitched in what was the hint of a smile.

  He briefly ducked his head then looked at me. “My people have struggled for decades. My brothers and I have spent years working with our mom on the reservation. I’ve been up close and personal with addiction and mental illness. I learned early on, a rosy tint on life was an illusion. I know you think my life has been all about football, touchdowns, cheerleaders, and itchy jocks. But this is gritty business, and I’ve been aware of it since I was a kid.”

  He was right. I did think his life was rosy. Everything came easy to him. And though I was close to his younger brother, I had no idea what happened on the reservation. Not wanting him to see he’d rattled me, I went for levity. “Had you washed your jock more often, maybe it would’ve itched less. Which is gross, by the way.”

  His expression of confusion would have made me laugh had the reason for us interacting not been serious. He couldn’t figure me out, and I was okay with that. Here he’d told me something personal and serious, and I’d gone for the easy joke. Taking pictures of a crime scene wasn’t a laughing matter. And yeah, I questioned if I was up for it. But the only way to know was to see this through.

  I knocked on LC’s hood twice to signal a change in subject. “Speaking of crime scenes—”

  “You are not to speak to anyone about these crime scenes. Not even Precious. I know that’ll be hard for you, but give it a try.” His expression was stern.

  I gasped. Precious was my best friend. I told her everything. “How dare you insinuate I can’t keep a secret?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You were saying about crime scenes?”

  Crap. How was I supposed to tell him about Graycloud’s being robbed without proving I sucked at secret keeping?

  I pressed my lips together as I contemplated my move. Unable to breathe through my nose because of my congestion, I blew out the breath in frustration. “I have something to tell you. You, Leo, not you, the cop.”

  “Why me Leo? What’s the difference?”

  I huffed then mumbled, “Because what I have to tell you is not common knowledge.”

  “Is it a secret?”

  Slapping that smug smile off his face would have felt awesome. But striking an officer in uniform was begging to be arrested for assault.

  “I’m only divulging what I know because I think it has something to do with this.” I jerked my thumb behind me toward the bar.

  Leo became serious. “I’m listening.”

  “When you’re off duty, put on regular clothes and go to Graycloud’s. Ask him about what happened a couple nights ago.”

  He looked skeptical. “That’s what you’re giving me?”

  “I’m assuming you can put two and two together and figure out what I’m saying.” I did the wide-eyed-don’t-be-stupid look.

  He jerked his head toward Junkie’s. “Graycloud would have reported something like this.”

  “Would he?” I said with sarcasm. “Because he didn’t.” I knocked on LC’s hood again. “I’m out. If you need me to take more pictures, let me know.” I shuffled to the driver’s side.

  “You should be home in bed,” he said.

  I gasped in mock surprise. “What? Are you saying you think I wasn’t hungover?” I climbed in and slammed the door.

  He crossed his arms. “In bed works for hangovers, too.” He nodded toward LC. “He needs oil.”

  I turned the engine over, and LC sputtered to life. “What else is new?”

  Chapter Five

  I drove into Vancouver (Not British Columbia, but Washington) to the hospital where they’d taken Ms. Trina. Helping the family any way I could was a high priority.

  There I met Precious. Her real name is Erika. We’d bonded during second grade when we, Hue included, realized that we were the only kids pulled out of class for extra support. Precious went to speech therapy for a wicked stutter that only showed up now when she was tired and overly stressed. Her nickname came when a bully from our class asked her what was so special about her that she didn’t have to read in front of the class, and she’d responded with, “Because I’m P-p-precious.” The moniker stuck. Yeah, at first it was used to tease her, but the truth was eventually seen. She embodied the nickname. The girl treated everyone like they had a gift to give to the world and, in return, she was treated the same.

  Precious was standing outside the double sliding doors of the hospital. Dressed in a black skirt with a simple white shirt and black flats with her pale blond hair pulled back into a bun. Typically one for bolder colors, she looked like she’d come to hand out Bibles, or for reasons more depressing. Like maybe she was the Angel of Death. Precious stood slightly over six feet with sparking blue eyes and alabaster skin.

  “You look like poop,” she said when she spotted me shuffling toward her.

  “I feel better than yesterday. Why are you wearing your funeral skirt?”

  Precious liked to have certain outfits for specific events. She said dressing correctly for the occasion gave people confidence and inner strength. I’m guessing she was feeling as shaken up by these turn of events as I was.

  She said in a hushed voice, “You said it was bad.”

  I lowered mine to match. “She’s not dead. Or in danger of dying.” At least not that I knew of. “Guess what I heard?”

  Precious raised her brows in anticipation.

  Keeping my voice low, I said, “Crenshaw said his video caught a hairy leg coming into the bar right before it closed.” Bigfoot was Precious’s secret interest. He’d been her imaginary friend back in elementary school. Imagine her glee to grow up and discover he might actually exist.

  Her eyes widened. “Do you think…could it be?”

  I shook my head. “I mean, why would Bigfoot rob the bar and chain up Ms. Trina? What’s he gonna do with the money?” I pretended to give her question thought. “Though, food was everywhere like someone had gone on a feeding frenzy.”

  “Someone being a giant hairy man-like beast?”

  I laughed. “Or bear or crazy vandals high on something.”

  She frowned at me. “You’re a buzz kill.”

  “I like to keep things real.” I winked.

  She clasped her hands together, signaling she’d come to a decision. This was her tell, a
nd I knew from experience only a miracle would sway her from further pursuing this angle. “We have to find out if it was a Bigfoot. Letting this drop because you think it’s unlikely isn’t good enough for me.”

  “I’ll leave you to figure out how we’ll go about it then.” I gestured for us to go into the hospital.

  Precious looked past me and nodded her chin in that direction. “Didn’t you say Junior was in an accident, too?”

  I nodded. “Hit a deer.”

  “I wonder if he was admitted. Because Kevin Greevey is lurking by the ER doors.”

  I turned to my left. The hospital was L-shaped. The doors to the main wing were dead center of the long line in the L. The ER was at the end of the short part. Kevin Greevey was standing by an ambulance, watching the doors of the ER. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, his right leg bouncing to a frenzied beat only he could hear.

  “Why is he just standing there?” Precious asked. “Maybe gonna try and steal some drugs?”

  I rolled my eyes. Kevin didn’t strike me as being that stupid, but then addiction made smart people do stupid things. “Maybe he’s waiting for someone?” A guess on my part.

  “Should we go in?” Precious pointed to the door.

  We both moved toward the door but stopped before entering.

  I glanced over my shoulder again. “He looks jumpy.”

  “Dope will do that to a person,” Precious said.

  Kevin shifted his weight and glanced at his watch. Definitely waiting for someone or something to happen. Call it curiosity or straight-up nosy, I wanted to know who or what.

  My answer came a second later when Becca Holland came out of the ER doors. She scanned the drop-off area, then moved toward Kevin when she spotted him. He sprung forward and rushed to her, wrapping her in his arms. Becca collapsed against him, hugging him tightly around the waist.

  “Whoa,” Precious said. “When did they start dating?”

  “Um, last I heard she kept too busy to date.” Ms. Trina had recently told me this one night at the bar. “Focusing on college and all that.”

  I pushed Precious toward the door. “Let’s go inside and see how Ms. Trina is doing. We’ll figure out what’s going on between them next.” On the elevator ride up, I filled in Precious on what Crenshaw had said.

  Ms. Trina was in the intensive care unit. The nurse guarding the door was adamant about us not getting one step closer, family only.

  “Only her family is outside hugging the man who might have put her here,” Precious mumbled as we took seats on a bench along the wall. We decided to wait for Becca to return. Fifteen minutes later, she did.

  Becca was a mini version of her mother, minus the frosted hair. Becca kept hers their natural chestnut, whereas Ms. Trina added frosted blond highlights. Both women wore their hair to the mid back. Both women were farm-girl pretty. Ms. Trina had aged well and Becca would, too. I, on the other hand, looked like my father and was constantly worrying about the rate his hairline was receding.

  Becca came out of the elevator, saw us, and stopped short. “Hey.”

  I leapt to my feet. “Becca, we’re so sorry. We wanted to know if there’s anything we could do to help?”

  Tears glistened in her red-rimmed eyes, and she wiped at them with her index finger. “No. We’re in a holding pattern. The doctors have her stable, but they had to remove her hand and part of her arm. She hasn’t woken up.”

  Whoa.

  Precious guided her to the bench, then sat beside her, rubbing her back. I kept my distance as I didn’t want to pass along my germs.

  “Have you heard from the police?” I asked. “Leo was at Junkie’s this morning.”

  “Nothing new. I’m thankful I called Crenshaw when Mom didn’t show up. How long would she have sat out there had I not noticed she hadn’t come home?” Her voice caught on a sob. She buried her face in her hands.

  I lived alone. My place might be over my dad’s business, but that didn’t mean we constantly saw each other. How many days would go by before my parents noticed I wasn’t home? “Is that something you did, made sure each other showed up when you were supposed to?”

  Becca sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “Mom says we can’t be too careful. Other than children, women are always targets. We did what we could to protect each other.”

  I glanced at Precious because, like me, she lived alone with no one checking on her daily. “Smart. Maybe Precious and I will do something similar.”

  Precious nodded her agreement. Neither of us wanted to be victims.

  I continued, “I’m sorry about her arm and hand.”

  Becca nodded. “The doctor said she’s lucky. Had the car hit her body, she might not have survived.”

  “Can I get you something to eat, Becca? Coffee?” Standing there idly added to my helpless feelings.

  “I don’t know if I can eat,” Becca said.

  “When was the last time you tried?” Precious was persistent.

  I said, “I’ll get you some snacks and water. Nothing heavy. You have to take care of yourself. I’m guessing you’re taking care of your sister?” Becca had a younger sister still in high school.

  She nodded. “People have brought food to the house, and my mom’s friend is hanging out there. She’ll relieve me here in a few hours.”

  I trudged off to the cafeteria and bought trail mix, a banana, and a large bottle of water.

  Kevin Greevey was sitting at a table in the corner, drinking coffee. Unable to control my insatiable curiosity, I slid into the chair opposite him and said, “I’m grabbing Becca snacks. Does she like trail mix or is she not a mixed nut person?”

  Kevin looked at the package and said, “She hates dried fruit. You’re better off getting her graham crackers.”

  Of all the Greevey men, Kevin was the best looking. He had piercing blue eyes, chiseled features, and looked like a Hollywood A-list leading man. But his reputation was dark and his mannerisms brooding. And there was the whole drug addiction thing.

  He slapped his hand angrily against the table. “Dammit, Samantha. How did you know I was here for Becca?”

  “I saw you two outside by the ER. Initially, I assumed you were here for your brother until she came outside.”

  He looked puzzled. “Why would my brother be here?”

  Now it was my turn to be surprised. “You know he hit a deer last night, right? Deer came through the windshield and knocked him out. When I saw you, I thought he might have had complications. Had to come here and was under observation.”

  Kevin rolled his eyes. “Please, if Junior the Great needed anything, Daddy would make sure he’d have it from the comfort of home.”

  “Junior still lives at home?” I knew he lived in the same general area as where he grew up, but I’d assumed he’d bought a house by his dad. In high school, he’d been voted “In command of his destiny and going places.” Not the typical basement dwelling college grad who mooched off his parents.

  “Why would he give up the cash cow?” Kevin took my bag of trail mix and tore it open, then wolfed down half by pouring it into his mouth.

  “You did,” I said.

  Or maybe he hadn’t had a choice, given his history. Rumor was he’d boost a car or ten for parts and fast cash. Rumor also said this was how he funded his drug habit. Not the kinda guy Becca Holland typically dated.

  “Because I can’t abide by rules. Or at least rules I think are dumb.” He finished off the trail mix. His body was stiff, his gaze narrow. He was strung tight, ready to spring. Bruises were on the knuckles of his right hand, a sign he’d been in a fight. Crenshaw hadn’t said he’d hit Ms. Trina but Crenshaw hadn’t been there when she’d closed up.

  I went for broke. I figured if he hurt me, we were in a hospital, so I’d get quick service. “Heard you and Ms. Trina had it out yesterday at Junkie’s.”

  Kevin glared at me. “Oh, yeah? Where’d you hear that?”

  I shrugged, not committing. “Around. What was it about?”

/>   He leaned forward and snarled, “None of your goddamn business.”

  “I’m not the only one who’ll ask you about this. You know that, right?”

  When he sucked air in through his nose, his nostrils flared. “What I know is you won’t hear the truth in what I have to say. Your mind’s made up about me and last night. Now, I have to convince you otherwise. Guilty until proven innocent. And you know what I have to say to that? Hm?”

  I shook my head.

  “I say you can go fu—”

  I jumped to my feet, forcing the table back toward him. “Alright, I get the point. Consider this a friendly heads up.” I scurried away from the table, uneasy.

  When I glanced over my shoulder, Kevin’s angry stare was focused on me. Anger was likely his default emotion. And he was right—I did want him to convince me he hadn’t played a part in the robbery and assault on Ms. Trina.

  Chapter Six

  Bob’s Auto Body was two blocks east of Wind River city center. Closest parking spot for LC was a block away. By the time Precious and I hoofed it from our cars to the shop, I was winded. The flu meds were wearing off, and a nap sounded heavenly.

  Bob’s real name is Adam, but twenty years ago he bought Bob’s from the original Bob and never changed the name. As a joke, people called him Bob and it stuck.

  The shop was a three-bay garage with an office attached. Two of the bays were open, and Bob was standing in front of the bays drinking a coke.

  He gave us a head nod as a greeting.

  “My dad asked me to bring a check to help cover expenses for Ms. Trina.” From my purse, I took out the check and two twenties. “I have this to contribute, too.”

  “Here’s my contribution.” Precious handed him a wad of cash, many of the bills ones. She worked nights in her parent’s restaurant and it was probably her tip money.

  He dropped his can, squashed it with his foot, then picked it back up. “Come on, I’ll get you ladies a receipt.”

  I glanced into the bays. Ms. Trina’s car was in the third bay with the door closed. “Do you think it’ll take a lot to fix her car?” I followed him into an office that held two customer chairs, grease stains complimentary, an old wood desk, a dirty chair behind the desk, a computer, and a Seahawks calendar.