Beautifully Cruel (Beautifully Cruel #1)(26)

Buddy pauses. When he starts to talk again, he sounds like he’s proceeding with enormous caution, carefully choosing every word.

“I’m just glad you’re okay. Your well-being is the only thing that matters.”

I hold the phone away from my ear and make a face at it. When I put it back against my ear, I say, “Buddy?”

“Yes, dear?”

“What’s going on?”

He hesitates a hair too long. “I…don’t believe I know what you mean, dear.”

“I’ll clarify. You’ve called me ‘dear’ four times in sixty seconds, which is four times more than the entire time I’ve worked for you. You offered to pay me disability, unemployment, and continuing wages if I didn’t return to work, plus all my medical bills, and we both know your picture is next to the definition of frugal in the dictionary.”

I try to imbue my pause with weight. “Did Liam threaten you or something?”

I hear a loud thud and wonder if Buddy fell out of his recliner.

“No! I didn’t say that! Please, don’t tell him I said that!”

“Sheesh, calm down. I was just asking.”

On the other end of the line, he’s panting like a Labrador. “Please, Tru, this is of the utmost importance. The utmost. It cannot get back to him that I said anything…” He gulps. “That I even implied anything negative. About you, or him, or—or anything.”

His fear is so palpable it’s reaching through the phone and squeezing a cold hand around my throat. Lowering my voice, I say, “You’re afraid of him.”

His exhalation is shaky. “Of course I am. The devil himself is afraid of that man.”

Realizing what he’s admitted, he blurts, “I didn’t mean that! He’s a fine individual, and I have nothing but good things to say about—”

I say firmly, “Buddy, I’m not going to repeat a word of this conversation to him. I promise you. I swear. Okay?”

I hear some rustling, then a heavy sigh. I imagine Buddy flattened in his recliner, passing a shaky hand over his pale face.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“But I am going to ask you more questions.”

His moan is faint and full of despair. It doesn’t deter me at all.

“Who is he?”

There’s a pause. When he comes back on, he sounds surprised. “You don’t know?”

“I know his name is Liam Black. I know he has some kind of relationship with the police, because they recognized him when he was with me at the hospital. Speaking of which, he scared the shit out of them, too, and my stuck-up doctor, if that helps you feel better.”

Buddy makes a grudging noise, indicating it might help a little bit.

“Beyond that, I’m in the dark. How do you know him?”

“By reputation only,” comes the solemn answer. “But that’s enough.”

“What is he, like, a boogeyman or something?”

I laughed when I asked the question, but Buddy doesn’t echo it. His voice is dead serious. “The boogeyman wishes he were Liam Black.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“And if you don’t know, I can’t tell you.”

I say drily, “Gee, thanks, boss. That’s super helpful.”

“You’re a smart girl, Tru. I’ve always thought so. Smart and tough. Mature for your age.” He pauses. “Could be all that cow milking and steer riding, I don’t know.”

“I regret telling you anything about my childhood.”

“My point is that you have eyes and a brain. Use them.”

Obviously, he’s not going to give me anything here. We sit in silence for a while, until I decide to go in a different direction. “What did you tell Diego and Carla?”

“The truth. That you were assaulted in the alley and a good Samaritan found you and called an ambulance. They had a lot of questions—Diego especially—but I told them you had family with you at the hospital and I’d let them know as soon as I heard anything.”

“Uh-huh. And how did you explain the bodies?”

“I don’t know anything about any bodies,” he says quickly. “Perhaps the police…”

He trails off, coughs, then falls silent. It’s his way of letting me know he’s already said too much on the subject, but he doesn’t have to give more detail for me to understand him.

The cops were Liam’s cleanup crew.

The plot thickens.

Buddy says, “I, uh, I also gave Carla and Diego each a nice bonus. You’ll get yours too, of course.”

Now I’m really suspicious. “Bonus? For what?”

“For…loyalty. For all your hard work. The late shift is difficult, after all. And I know it’s been hard since the dishwasher left. You’ve all been doing extra work.”

I’m quiet a moment, thinking. “In other words, it’s a bribe.”

“What? No!”

“You want us to keep our mouths shut about what happened that night.”

He scoffs. “Now, now, let’s not be theatrical.”

“Buddy, you’re starting to freak me out. This isn’t you. You don’t say ‘dear’ and make bribes and call people the boogeyman. What the hell is really going on?”