Bones Don't Lie (Morgan Dane #3)(91)

Lou sprawled on the floor and didn’t move.

“What did you do?” Owen yelled.

He poked Lou with a toe. Still no movement.

Owen bent over the body. One hand went to the drunk’s neck. He looked up and mouthed, “He’s dead.”

King lifted a shoulder. “He was a waste of oxygen, and his liver wouldn’t have lasted too much longer anyway.”

The man’s death didn’t bother him, but he’d have to think fast to avoid a legal fallout. The only worry on his mind was his future.

“Now what do we do?” Owen stood. Removing his campaign hat, he rubbed the top of his skull as if he was trying to stimulate his brain.

Good luck.

Owen was a decent cop, but he was no Einstein.

And this situation was going to need a solid plan. Finesse would be required.

Owen dropped his hand and shoved his hat back on his head. “We have to call the sheriff.”

“No.” King would do whatever was necessary to fix this. “My career is not going down for this piece of shit.”

“What do we do?” Owen gestured to the body at their feet. “We can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Why not?” He reached for one of Lou’s arms. “We’ll put him in the cell to sleep it off, like we’ve done before. Nothing unusual about that. When he doesn’t wake up, we’ll be surprised.”

Owen hesitated.

“He just got into a bar fight,” he argued. “Who’s to say he didn’t get hit in the head at PJ’s?”

The best lies were the simple ones.

“OK.” Owen’s arm shook as they picked up the body and dragged it into the holding cell.

The station was empty. The only other staff member on duty was the dispatcher, and he had a room to himself. They positioned Owen on his side on the cot, his body curled up as if asleep. Then they left him there.

King closed the cell door and smiled. “Done.”

“You’re forgetting something.” Owen’s gaze indicated the doorway that led into the rear corridor.

Mary.

He had forgotten about her. Unfortunately for Mary, she was a witness.

“Come on.” He moved toward the doorway.

“What are you going to do?” Owen asked.

“Just follow me.”

Mary was still cuffed to the ring in the wall. Her eyes widened as he approached her, the whites glowing in the dim corridor. She pressed her back against the wall. She knew what she’d seen and what it meant.

“How about we make a deal, Mary?” King walked closer.

She swallowed, the column of her throat undulating. “Wh-at?” Her voice trembled.

“I’ll drop the charges. You forget you were here tonight.”

Mary’s quick nod was tense and desperate.

He took off her handcuffs. “I’ll even drive you back to PJ’s.”

With one hand on her bicep, he guided her out the rear door and into the back seat of his car. He glanced over his shoulder at Owen. “Do your paperwork on Ford as if he passed out—then go back out like normal. We’ll find him dead later.”

Owen nodded.

Then King drove out into the countryside, away from Grey’s Hollow and into neighboring Scarlet Falls. If a client killed Mary, he’d want to put some distance between her body and the crime scene.

Mary pressed her hands to the side window. “This ain’t the way to PJ’s.”

At a rest stop, he pulled off the road and parked. There were no other cars in sight. Insects hummed in the warm August night. He got out of the car and opened the rear door.

“Get out,” he said.

She obeyed. Between the hem of her miniskirt and her fuck-me heels, she wobbled as she climbed from the back seat. She sidled along the car fender. He closed the rear door.

As he turned to reach for her arm, she kicked out. His hips jerked sideways. Her foot struck him high on the thigh and grazed his groin. His knees buckled, and she bolted, stepping right out of her shoes.

Shit!

Cupping his balls, he limped after her.

He recovered his stride after a couple of minutes, but she’d put a hundred feet between them. Barefoot, she hit the side of the road, turned, and ran straight up the yellow line. Ahead, her bare legs churned, but he was gaining on her.

Until he saw the one thing that could ruin his plan.

Headlights.

Screaming, Mary stayed in the center of the road and waved her arms. The vehicle slowed, then stopped. A man got out of a sedan and stepped into the beams of his headlights.

“Help me!” Mary yelled, glancing over her shoulder. “He’s going to kill me.”

He closed the gap just as Mary reached her Good Samaritan.

The man was tall and athletic-looking. “Is everything all right, Deputy?”

“Just fine. I’m arresting this woman,” he said, cuffing Mary’s arms behind her back.

“No.” Mary struggled. “He’s going to kill me! Please. Help.”

The man shifted his weight. Hell, even if the man left now, he was a risk. A witness. Thanks to Mary’s outbursts, the man would remember her.

“She’s been drinking.” He took Mary by the arm and tugged her back. “You can get back in your car now, sir. I have everything under control.”