Devon Monk - Hell Bent

We were headed to the office. I noted it was still dark out, and checked the dashboard clock. Four in the morning. Jesus, I hated going to work this early. Or at least, I assumed I did. I didn’t think I’d ever gone into work this early.

“ . . . for me would you?”

“What?”

“Dash. Call him. Tell him to meet us down there.”

“At the office,” I said, taking Terric’s cell phone.

“Yes. Don’t you ever listen to me?”

“Every word.”

I dialed. Dash, that overachiever, answered before the first ring was done.

“Spade,” he said.

“Hey, Dash, this is Shame. Terric wants you to meet us at the office as soon as possible.”

“Trouble?”

“You could say that.”

“I’ll be there in five.” He hung up.

“Be there in five,” I said. “Where does that kid live?”

“Loft space just a few streets down. So, she poisoned you?”

“Well, yes. I let her poison me.”

“Uh-huh. Then what happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened.”

“Shame, I just told her she could be a part of this hunt. I want to know everything that happened, everything you know about her. I’m giving you three minutes to cover it.”

“Why three?”

“Because if I guessed wrong and she’s not what I think she is, I’m going to turn right and head straight to the police. When she follows us, I’ll knock her out and lock her up.”

“Brutal. Effective. Very double-crossy of you, Terric. Why are you suddenly playing by the dark side of the rule book?”

“Joshua is dead.”

He let that sit for a second or two. “He’s not going to be the last friend of ours we bury if we don’t stop Collins.”

So I filled him in. Every. Last. Detail.

He didn’t laugh. The only time he spoke was to clarify things like what kind of car she was driving, what other cars I saw parked next to the motel, and what kinds of guns she was carrying.

“Are you going out to lunch with her?”

“If she has something on the missing people around town, don’t you think I should?”

“She could be lying.”

“Sure.”

“Do you think we can trust her?” he asked.

“You’re asking me to judge someone’s trustworthiness?”

“Yes. Your gut feeling on her.” He glanced at me. “ Honest gut feeling.”

I dragged my fingers through my hair, rings rubbing and snapping as I did so.

“She makes me want to trust her. I think . . . I’d guess that before her brother’s death she might have been a lot of fun to be around. She’s got . . . spunk. She’s calm under pressure, is trying to do the right thing. Plus, gorgeous. Her brother’s death isn’t a lie. She’s grieving. She wants his killer to pay—not just to die, but to pay—for killing her brother.”

“And she wants . . . us. Our information so she can take care of the killer and move on with her life.”

“She wants you,” Terric said. He waited. Waited for me to answer that.

“Who wouldn’t? This?” I pointed to my face and body. “Irresistible.”

The muscle at his jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. “Is that all she wants from you?”

I took a deep breath and scrubbed my hand through my hair again, trying to smooth it this time. “She wants what I am. What I can give her: Death. A horrible, painful death for the man who killed her brother.”

“Not exactly marriage material,” he noted.

“I’m not planning on marrying the girl.”

“Good.”

What kind of tone was that?

“Terric,” I said with a wide smile. “Are you jealous?”

“No.”

“Aw, c’mon, now, mate. You’re jealous I have a girlfriend. It bothers you that I like the look of her. The idea of being with her. And I would have done a hell of a lot more than kiss her if Eleano—”

I stopped. I didn’t talk about Eleanor. Hadn’t for years. Certainly not to Terric. I couldn’t believe I’d almost started talking about her now. Why remind him that I’d killed a perfectly nice person because I was weak and had lost control of the monster within me?

“If what?” Terric asked.

“Nothing.”

He didn’t push it. And yes, I was grateful for that.

He changed the subject instead. “So you trust her?”

“To a point. She has a goal. Right now it’s the same as ours. Or similar, anyway. I want the information she has. I think we can trust her to be truthful about what she knows. You know, until we can’t.”

He nodded. “So we don’t lock her up, until we have to.”

“This is nice,” I noted. “Just like old times. Think Davy’s ratted us out to Clyde yet?”

“He’ll give us an hour. He wants Collins dead more than any of us. And the Overseer tends to make cut-and-dry decisions. He might want to lock Collins up and excuse the Authority of any other involvement in the case. But if we investigate, we’ll let Davy come along while we take Collins down. The Overseer would never let a Hound into Authority business. Especially not a Hound with plenty of reasons for vengeance.”

I nodded. Pulled out cigarettes and lighter. Rolled down the window. Lit up. Knew Terric was really worried about all this when he didn’t even tell me not to smoke in his car.

I finished off three cigarettes, only getting five puffs in total by the time we pulled up to the office. This was becoming an expensive habit.

Terric parked along the side street and Dessa’s car rolled up just a few spaces down. Okay, the good thing about being downtown this early: plenty of parking spaces.

We got out, waited for her, headed to the doors.

“What kind of food do you like?” Dessa asked as we stepped into the elevator.

“For?”

“Lunch.”

“I’m flexible.”

Terric snorted and stepped into the waiting elevator.

He leaned against one side of the elevator, I leaned against the other, and she stood at the back wall. Eleanor kept her hands to herself.

“I’ve heard there are some great vegan places,” she said, “or sushi?”

“You like vegan, right, Shame?” Terric said.

“Pizza,” I said, giving Terric a shut-up look. “Let’s do pizza.”

“All right.” She leaned her shoulders back, more relaxed now that it was settled. “When?”

“Why not this afternoon?”

“Good.”

The doors opened.

Dash was there, waiting by the elevator. “Shame, Terric. . . .” His voice fell off as he saw Dessa step out behind us. “Um . . . hello. Have we met?”

“Dash, this is Dessa,” I said. “She’s some kind of government assassin or something.”

“Leeds,” she said, offering Dash her hand to shake. “Dessa Leeds. Ex-government or something.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said. Then, “Terric. Clyde is here.”

Terric paused just slightly in his stride down the hall. Enough time that I caught up with him.

“Want me to handle it?” I asked as we walked, shoulder to shoulder, down to the main office.

“Absolutely no, I do not,” he said.

“I heard yes.” I reached the door just a step ahead of him and pushed it open.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Clyde Turner,” I said cheerily. “What the hell are you doing down here so early?”

What Clyde was doing was sitting at one of the empty desks to one side of the room, writing on a legal pad.

He’d taken off his Giants hat, but was still wearing a flannel shirt, T-shirt, and jeans. A thermos and cup of coffee rested near his elbow.

He looked up, and took in the party coming his way. “Shame. What are you up to?”

Funny how I was always the one suspected of trouble.

“I need a word with you,” I said. “Maybe in my office?”

By this time Terric had caught up with me. “We both need a word with you. In my office.”