The Devil Makes Three (19 page)

“You should wear a coat,” he said, moving to shed his leather duster that I loved so much.

“Don’t. I’m not cold.” The gesture made me smile. “And this won’t take long.”

He stopped mid-motion and considered me, then shrugged the duster back onto his shoulders. “So what did you want to talk about? Did your date go too well last night and I’m getting shut down?”

“Do you ever think of anything else?”

He smiled darkly and leaned in close, brushing a kiss over my lips. “Not where you’re concerned.”

“So much for the employer-employee relationship, huh?”

“So am I not getting shut down?”

“An FBI agent by the name of Ginger Rogers came to my apartment last night.”

His eyebrows rose as if I had told him the most mundane gossip possible. “I’m sure you had a lovely time.”

“To make a long story short, they’ve traced the Smith & Wesson back to me through the guy who sold me the gun.”

“And you’re still free? Someone must have intervened on your behalf. How lucky for you.”

He knew. I could see it all over his face. He had bought that Glock for me, specifically to give me a cover; I could admit I bought a gun and still had the evidence in hand if ever questioned.

“Thank you,” I said with total sincerity. “And I just want you to know that narking on you never even crossed my mind last night.”

Reaching over he placed his hand on my neck. It felt warm and soft against my skin. With little effort he pulled me to him and kissed me. The kiss resonated through my entire body, yet not like any kiss with him before. The lusty intentions of previous encounters had evaporated, replaced by something I couldn’t quite identify.

When he broke the kiss he lingered close for just a moment, studying my face, then he pulled back and became that same old Corbin who pissed me off so often.

“I take good care of those who take care of me,” he said, then he produced my cell phone from his pocket. When he had stolen it off me I didn’t know, but I had to resist the urge to rip it from his grip.

There’s a new number in here. You can reach me with it if you need me.” With that he stood up and disappeared amongst the trees and headstones, walking towards the back of the cemetery, disappearing like a ghost.

Chapter 17

In which Gretchen lies, cries and loses another laptop.

The next morning I strolled to class, considering what to do about my many dilemmas. Foremost on my mind was Cohen. If he wasn’t the investigating agent on the Martins murder, what was he doing questioning me? The mystery pushed me even further towards the theory that Cohen and Corbin were the same person. That caused another problem. If forced to choose between Corbin/Cohen and Collin, I wasn’t sure which way I’d turn. Of course, each man had his flaws – Collin’s a bit less personality driven than Corbin’s – but who didn’t have flaws? Considering my deep dark secrets, I’d have to consider myself lucky if Collin didn’t run screaming for Cohen when he found out what I’d done. Corbin knew and didn’t seem to care. Honestly, it seemed to get him a little worked up. But did I really want a guy like that? One who came and went as he pleased with little care for my needs? One who very well might have 20 other women working for him in various ways? One thing was certain: he didn’t like sharing and neither did I. If it came down to it, I suspected he and I would have some very tense moments over the secrets he insisted on keeping from me.

So where did that leave me? With the man who couldn’t know who I really was, or the man that I couldn’t know who he really was?

My phone rang as I walked the campus sidewalks, interrupting my train of thought. Pulling it from my pocket I couldn’t deny that my heart contracted a bit at the sight of Collin’s number. We had purposefully left it unidentified just in case someone caught a glimpse, but that didn’t stop me from reacting to it.

“Hello?”

“You and I need to talk.” He didn’t sound happy.

“Do you think this is the time?” I was only a minute away from his class anyway, which meant he couldn’t be far and neither of us were in a position to talk if his tone was any indication of the topic.

“Cohen showed up at my door last night and he and I had a very candid, upsetting conversation.”

I swallowed nervously. What did Cohen tell him? Did he talk with Ginger? Didn’t the gun clear me? “What did he say?”

“Amongst other things? He’s now considering me to be involved in the murder.”

My vision darkened for a moment and I had to stop in the middle of the path to steady myself. How had he possibly come to that conclusion? “Why? Why would he think that?” I scrubbed my forehead with my palm and bit my lip.

“I don’t know, but I can’t have this. If this gets out, I’m ruined.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to tell you.” I really honestly didn’t. I couldn’t very well tell him what really happened, because he definitely wasn’t in any state to hear it.

“When can we talk?” he asked.

“You tell me and I’ll meet you there.”

“What about your other classes?”

“Forget class. One class is less important than ruining your career.”

“No. Go to class. After class we’ll meet. Should I come to the funeral home or to your apartment after I’m done here?”

The idea of him angry and in my apartment didn’t jive with me. “Come to the funeral home tonight. I’ll get there by 8:30 and we can talk.”

He sighed and agreed. With a heavy tone he said goodbye and I closed my phone. Stuffing it into my pocket I resumed my progress towards class. He beat me there and never once looked at me during the lecture.

#

I got home after school that day in a foul mood and found Corbin sleeping on my couch. His head rested on one arm while his legs dangled over the other. The TV was on, but muted, casting light over his form. The duster he liked to wear so much lay across the back of the couch, as if he lived there.

“What? Are you checking in now?”

He opened one eye and smiled. “I have a job for you.”

“No. Not today. And what? You can’t just call anymore?”

He sat up, one leg still draped over the arm of the couch. “You’re tense. What’s up?”

“There’s trouble in Dodge.”

“Oh?”

“Cohen’s under the impression that Collin is involved in Martins’ murder now. And did I mention last night that he’s not even a member of the investigating team? So why the hell is he poking around at all?”

Corbin’s mouth curled into a smile. “I bet Collin took that well.”

“He didn’t, actually.”

“So? What happened with it?”

“I don’t know yet. He’s meeting me tonight to discuss specifics.”

“At the funeral home?”

“Yes, and you’re not invited. How do you get in there anyway? Last night you went towards the back of the cemetery but there are no gates back there.”

He smiled wider. “Some things are better left a mystery.”

“I’m panicking here and you’re acting flippant.”

“I’m not flippant. I just don’t see the point in panicking.”

“Well then what do you propose I do?”

He rose from the couch and shrugged back into his duster. “I suggest you do this job I have lined up. It’ll get your mind off things.”

“It will not. It will only raise my anxiety levels higher.”

Stepping to me he kissed my forehead and stuck a scrap of paper in my palm. “I need you to go to the coffee shop again on your way to work tonight. Sit down at the table furthest from the door and have a cup of something on me.” He added a twenty to my hand. “And admire the pottery on the shelf. While doing so, slip this paper under the knockoff Delftware tea pot. It’s that simple.”

“Oh great. Now I’m the one leaving stuff.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What is it I’m leaving today?”

My tone must have hinted at my lack of good humor because he considered me and shrugged. “It’s an alarm code. Simple. Conscionable I think. But remember, I wouldn’t ask questions you really don’t want the answer to in the future.” Taking my hand, he kissed my clenched fingers slowly, softly. “I’ll come by later this evening, after he’s gone, and we can talk about what we need to do with Cohen and Collin.” He said it like a purr, but I didn’t want to think about what it could very easily mean.

#

I stepped into the coffee shop at 7:30 and sat down with my drink. The place was empty, all logical people in the world wishing to avoid excessive caffeine at this time of the day. In an effort to get the work over with quickly, I picked up the faux Delftware and flipped it over to read the bottom. Once I’d examined it for a moment I palmed the security code and stuck it to the dish, then set it back on the shelf.

A girl wearing a pink hoodie walked into the coffee shop and approached the counter. I watched her for a lack of anything else to do. I couldn’t help but notice her designer jeans, bleached blond hair and long nails. Instantly I hated her. A moment later I recognized her as the young woman in Victoria’s Secret who had humiliated me.

Turning so I faced the wall instead of out into the coffee shop, I watched her from the corner of my eye.

She ordered a cappuccino and sat down at a table, pulled out an iphone and unlocked the screen. Before immersing herself in the apps she glanced around and spotted me. Quickly she diverted her gaze as if she felt ashamed for recognizing my existence.

The urge to take the security code back became almost overwhelming, yet I didn’t want to touch the Delftware now that someone other than the employees was in the place. Grimacing, I finished my drink and left. Halfway down the block, I realized I’d left my bag at the coffee shop and went back for it. I hoped the lack of customers meant it would still be there and untouched. Stepping up to the window, I glanced inside, looking for the bag across the floor.

The girl had moved from her spot to mine and looked at the Delftware. I watched her slip the security code into her jacket pocket, then bend down and start looking through my bag as she set it on the table.

Instinct took over as an array of emotions flooded through me. So she worked for Corbin. And not only that, but she was about to know my name. From there, who knew what she could find out? Pushing aside the initial jealousy that accompanied knowing she worked with Corbin and was probably on the receiving end of the same type of gifts I got, I decided to go with anger. Strutting up to the door I pushed it open and stepped inside.

“You’ll want to put that stuff back. And anything else you might have in your pockets,” I said, hoping to set her off balance with the accusation of theft.

She looked up at me steadily, but blinked then shoved the bag to the floor with a smug smile. I heard my laptop hit the tile with a crunch.

“You’ll pay for that if it’s broken.”

“Will I? We’ll see about that.” Getting up she brushed past me, knocking me off balance. Once out the door, she pulled out her cell phone and hurried down the street, out of view.

Everything connected to my estrogen level told me to follow her, give her crap. But I knew that I wouldn’t get anything out of her and the last thing I wanted was to find out she carried weapons like I suspected Corbin did. Instead, I went to the bag and peered in at the contents.

My books and folder were unharmed, but my laptop had a serious dent on one corner and a crack running up the outer case. The DVD burner poked out slightly in a sickly, damaged way. Pushing the button for the drive to eject did nothing.

Cursing, I zipped up the bag and threw it onto my shoulder then headed out into the street. Anger drove me as I passed the funeral home and stopped at the next corner. Looking both ways I hoped to find her, but had no luck. She had disappeared, probably in a car that had sat parked on the curb. Crossing the road I circled the block, working off some anger and abusive energy in hopes the people at the funeral home wouldn’t notice my state.

#

My laptop wouldn’t work.

In frustration, I flicked the screen and slammed the lid down. A million different things went through my mind ranging from the time I would lose on studying for midterms to how much I wanted to kill that chick. When Corbin came by this evening I’d give him a piece of my mind.

In the meantime, I called Katie from the funeral home office to get an evaluation of my problem.

“You have bad computer karma,” she said.

“Not helping.”

“What happened to it?”

I sighed and rested my forehead on the desk. “I had an incident with someone who seems to suffer from jealously as much as I do. To make a long story short, she dropped my bag off a table.”

“Make her pay.”

“Yes, Katie. But for now I need to know if there is any way I can get to what’s on the hard drive. I’ve got midterms coming up and I need my notes.”

“Didn’t you back it up? I told you to.”

“Please. Not now. These are not the things I need to hear.”

Katie sighed. “Well I can come by and look at it. Or you can bring it into the shop tomorrow morning.”

I weighed my options. If she came to get it, she could get started pulling it apart tonight. But then she also ran the chance of meeting one or both of my expected visitors. Taking it to the shop in the morning wasn’t really an option either, since I had classes and knew I would need sleep first.

“How long before you can get here?”

“About twenty minutes I guess.”

I glanced at the clock. It was 8:00. There was no viewing this evening but a body had just come in and sat in the cooler, which meant my father could go either way, working late or leaving early. Of course, if Katie felt like lingering that meant trouble too.

“That’s not going to work.” I decided. “I’ll have to bring it in sometime tomorrow.”

“Okay. In the meantime, do you still have your original?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it.”

“Just drop the broken one at the store then and I’ll email you whatever I find. But what about this girl?”

“You really don’t want to know. It’s a big mess.”

“I would make her pay. That’s seriously not cool.”

“Oh, she’s gonna pay. She’s gonna pay if I have to get it from him and he can get it from her.”