Eleventh Grave in Moonlight (Charley Davidson #11)(52)

“Worry me? Amber, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

Uncle Bob raised his voice. “Now. I need it now.”

“I would block the number,” Amber added, “but then he would text me from a different number. Like every day he had a new number.”

“Why don’t we just change Amber’s number?” Cookie asked.

“And worry for the next year, if not longer, if he will come after her? Cook, these texts are brutal and violent. They may very well be from your everyday neighborhood stalker. The kind who never comes face-to-face with his victim. Completely harmless.” I was lying through my teeth. No stalker was ever completely harmless. There were always ramifications. “But we need to be sure.” I looked at Amber. “Did Quentin know?”

She shook her head. “No. I was afraid he would tell”—she shot a glance at Uncle Bob from under her glasses—“Mom.”

Uncle Bob had stilled. He’d continued scrolling through texts while he was on the phone. He stopped and stared at one, then whirled around to Amber.

She looked down. Pulled the knee of her good leg to her chest. Squeezed Reyes’s hand.

“Is this why you didn’t say anything?” Ubie asked, furious. When Amber didn’t say anything, he yelled, “Amber!”

I stood. “Uncle Bob, that is enough.” I took the phone from him.

“Not at first,” Amber said. “I was being stupid, worried you’d take my phone away if I told you, but then—”

She had texted the stalker back after a particularly nasty message, writing, My stepdad is a detective. He will find you if you don’t stop.

The stalker’s next text was possibly the most chilling: Don’t you ever threaten me, you bitch. The day that pig finds out is the day his throat is cut. The next seven texts were pictures of Uncle Bob, either at work, at Calamity’s, or in front of the apartment building, getting out of his SUV. The guy had clearly done his homework.

Uncle Bob went back to his phone. “I don’t need a warrant. This man is threatening my daughter. My. Daughter. Do it. Now.”

He hung up and curled his fingers around his phone in anger. “I have tech getting every text to and from this number and running traces. If he’s been texting you from different numbers, chances are he’s using burners, but even then there’s a chance we can trace them to the store where they were—”

He stopped talking when Amber jumped up and tackle-hugged him. He stood stunned for a minute, then wrapped her in his arms, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head. “You are the bravest girl I’ve ever met,” he said to her.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t brave. I was so scared. He said he’d kill you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, smidgeon.”

Reyes and I exchanged secretive glances, then he stood and started cleaning the urgent care center.

“I was so worried about Robert,” Cookie said softly, the inevitable guilt setting in. “I completely missed this.”

I patted her hand. “Yes, yes. You’re the worst parent since Joan Crawford. Thank God you have me, because I have a plan.”

Ubie looked over at me. “Your plans rarely end well.”

“What?” I scoffed, waved him off, then turned to my homey. “What say you? Do we go after this guy?”

Cookie drew in a deep, shaky breath. “I say yes, absolutely, but I think it’s ultimately up to Amber.”

“Since she’ll be the bait?”

Her eyes rounded in horror. “Bait?”

“Didn’t I mention that?”





13

Some days I just stay inside because it feels too peopley out there.





—TRUE FACT


Amber fell asleep on the couch at about two in the morning, while the rest of us hammered out the details of my plan. Uncle Bob would need some time to get a team together for the big showdown, so we couldn’t implement it for another day, at least.

Cookie wanted to keep Amber home from school, but I convinced her we needed everything to look completely normal if we were going to lure this guy into a trap. That was when my IQ level, based on the elements of my plan, went from everyday smarty-pants to stone genius.

Of course, convincing a slave demon to go to a human high school, even for one day, could be difficult, but we only had six hours to find someone who could pass as a high school student and have the ability to protect Amber from pretty much any kind of attack. Too much red tape in getting an actual undercover cop, so a former slave demon it was.

And, after a careful examination of all the texts, the stalker didn’t seem to have any inherent celestial abilities, so he wouldn’t be able to detect that Amber’s new BFF was a supernatural entity.

Now to convince said supernatural entity.

After Uncle Bob scooped Amber into his arms and carried her back to their apartment as though she were as fragile as butterfly wings, Reyes and I threw on some clothes and headed over to Osh’s. Together. Like in the same vehicle.

I was a little surprised he was joining me. I should have been less surprised and more suspicious, however. He was a little too enthusiastic. A little too eager.

Thankfully, Osh was home. Always hoping for another meal, his front door wasn’t locked. Reyes didn’t knock. He walked in and went straight back to what I assumed was Osh’s bedroom.