Eleventh Grave in Moonlight (Charley Davidson #11)(15)

“I thought we’d agreed you weren’t going to look into the Fosters.”

“We did,” I assured him, jumping to explain. “And I wasn’t looking into them. I was looking around them. Like, peripherally. Shawn just happened to notice.” When Reyes didn’t say anything, I continued. “But it’s all good. Shawn and I are on the same page. He had a lot of great information. I had a lot of great information. Combine that with what you told me, and I think we could put them away, Reyes. I think we could get a conviction.”

“And you think that’s what I want?”

“Don’t you? I mean, how can you not? They abducted you, Reyes. Then they allowed you to be abducted again by a monster, if that’s what really happened, and you just want them to get away with it?”

“I want you to drop it.”

“Reyes, I’ve already accepted the case. I was hoping you’d understand. Shawn wants to know. He wants to find out where he comes from. Find out who his real parents are. What his real life would have been like. He has questions just like you did.”

“Drop the case.”

It was an order, plain and simple. And the fact that he actually thought I’d follow it was comical. Or it would’ve been if he weren’t seething underneath that calm exterior.

“No. I’m sorry, but I can’t. This isn’t just about you anymore.”

He leaned forward, so close I could feel his breath on my mouth when he spoke. “Drop the case or I’ll drop it for you.”

Oh, no, he didn’t. I narrowed my lids and set my jaw. “Try.”

Heat exploded out of him. It was an inevitable part of who he was, of what he was, but this time the heat hit me like wall of fire.

He struggled to tamp it down. I could feel at least that much in the strangling density of his emotions. He fought to regain control.

And I struggled to stand my ground. This was important. The Fosters were criminals. They needed to be brought to justice. And the moment he believed he could threaten me into doing anything against my will was the moment he and I were going to have to seriously reevaluate our relationship.

My phone rang just as he stood to leave. “Wait,” I said to him.

He stopped but didn’t look back at me.

I checked my phone. It was Cookie. “This’ll just take—”

“We’ll talk about this later,” he said, and then he strode away. Just like that. His anger leaving heat streaks on the air.

I answered. “Hey, Cook. What’s up?”

“He’s having an affair.”

I’d started to get up, too. Several sets of eyes watched me, mostly women’s, curious about Reyes and me. I sat back down. “Did he tell you that?”

Her breath hitched. “He didn’t have to. I practically threw myself at him, and he barely noticed.”

The sigh of relief I let loose made me light-headed. “Cookie, he is not having an affair. I’d bet my bottom dollar on it. Or even just my bottom. But I’ll look into it for you if you’d like.”

“I’d like. But that’s not why I called.”

“I’m downstairs. Heading up now.”

“I’m still at home. I’ve been looking into the Fosters’ backgrounds.”

“At home?”

“I go into research mode when I’m upset.”

“Ah, okay,” I said as Valerie, Reyes’s manager in training, cleared my table. “Hit me. What’d you find?”

“Well, they don’t make sense.”

“Child abductors rarely do.”

“No, it’s like they were never born.”

“So, they were hatched?” I teased. I smiled at Valerie. She almost smiled back. It was so much better than the sneer I usually got from her. I got the feeling she didn’t like me much.

“That makes about as much sense as what I’m finding. Neither one of them have birth certificates on file in the states they say they were born in.”

“Oh, now that’s interesting.”

“Isn’t it? Right now I’m looking at their employment records. Mrs. Foster has a copy of a birth certificate on file at the pediatrician’s office she manages. It was issued in West Virginia, but according to the state records there, there was no female child born on that day in that town. Eve Bathsheba Foster was never born.”

“Her birth certificate is fake?”

“I believe it is.”

“Wait. Her middle name is Bathsheba? For reals?”

“The thing about the birth certificate is, who’s going to double-check something like that? When someone hires you, unless it’s a job where you need a certain level of clearance from the government, your employer will just get a copy of your birth certificate and call it good. They only need it to cover their asses should any problems arise later on.”

“True.”

“And how hard can it be to get fake documents in today’s day and age?”

“Have you looked up Mr. Foster’s?”

“I’m looking for the actual record now. His was a little harder to track down, but he filed for a conceal carry permit a few years ago under the name Abraham Boaz Foster.”

“What the hell is up with their names?”