Keep Her Safe(62)

“Go ahead,” I mutter, my curiosity getting the better of me.

He holds his phone up in the air.

“Ten fourteen p.m., Wednesday, April fifth, 2017 . . .” the automated recording chirps into the still night, the time and date setting the hairs down the back of my spine on end. “Agent Klein! Since you’re so hell-bent on arrestin’ somebody, I’ve got a name for you,” a woman says, her Texas drawl thick, her words slurred, her tone bitter.

My vision blurs with dizziness as I’m instantly transported back to that terrible night.

“You need to look into Abraham Wilkes’s death. Everything about what happened to him was a lie. He was set up because he saw Dwayne Mantis steal money in a drug bust and he was gonna nail him for it. I don’t know exactly how Mantis did it, but I know he killed Abe. Look into him. Look into how Dwayne Mantis murdered a good man.” The call ends abruptly.

“That’s your mother, isn’t it?”

I’m sure I don’t have to answer; my ghostly white face must say it all and Klein is watching me closely.

There’s no mistaking it. That was Jackie Marshall.

“You could have warned me,” I manage to get out, my voice hoarse, my heart pounding in my ears. I could punch this dickhead for ambushing me.

“So you could prepare a lie?”

“Why would I lie?”

“I’m not sure yet. The same reason I don’t know why you lied to the police in your statement.” Klein focuses his attention on twisting the metal ring around his pinky finger, but I know he’s acutely aware of my every twitch.

I should tell him everything. Unload this burden off my chest. Let the FBI do something with it. Something I surely can’t. That’s sounding better and better. But first I need to talk to Silas. He’s always been my voice of reason. And this affects him, too.

A thought strikes me. If my mother was directing Klein toward Mantis, it’s because he wasn’t after him in the first place. “Who are you trying to arrest?”

Klein shrugs noncommittally. “Another case. Another criminal your mother could have helped put away, but didn’t. She has a real problem with seeking justice, doesn’t she? Not exactly a good quality for a police chief.”

FBI agent or not, I’m not about to sit here and listen to him trash-talk my dead mother. “Sounds like you should be busy going after this Mantis guy. Don’t let me stop you.” I stand, giving Cyclops’s leash a small tug toward the motel’s entrance.

“What did you need to give Gracie Wilkes?” Klein calls out.

My feet falter. “What are you talking about?”

“Her neighbor said you came to give her something.”

Sims, that piece of shit. “Some old family pictures.”

“You drove twelve hours to give old family pictures to her? You sure about that?”

His tone puts me on edge. It’s like he already knows about the money.

“Have a good night, Klein.”

“So, if I were to go into that motel room, I wouldn’t find anything suspicious at all?”

A bag of ninety-eight thousand dollars that is too coincidentally the same amount written on that news clip to be at all coincidental.

But, most importantly, he’d find Gracie, and then she’d quickly realize that I left out the part about the feds coming to see me the other day. It was fully intentional on my part, and—probably—the wrong decision, but I already know Gracie enough to know she’d hold me at knifepoint until I gave her Klein’s business card. She’d have no issue telling him everything, including her own suspicions about my mother.

“You’d find a sick woman who needs her rest. I think you’ve already scared her enough for one day, don’t you?”

He pauses, as if to consider that. “When will you be back in Austin?”

“As soon as I help Gracie get Dina into a rehab program and find a new place to live.”

Klein eases himself off the bench to stand next to me, and I sense his mood shifting. “Lying to a police officer in a statement carries a maximum of six months in prison. That’s a criminal record, Noah. But you know all this, working in the DA’s office. Then again, I’m guessing your uncle would do what he needs to do to make the charges go away.”

I swallow. “Have a safe trip back.”

“Of course, he’d have a hard time doing that, what with all the media attention around you being a homicide suspect—”

Homicide? I’m unable to keep my cool anymore. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“So who put you up to it? Who wanted Jackie out of the picture?”

I feel my face twist up as I struggle to grasp his meaning. Because he can’t be saying what I think he’s saying . . .

“Jackie was so drunk, I’ll bet she didn’t even see you coming until the gun was—”

My fist connects with Klein’s mouth, needing the vile words to stop. “I did not kill my mother!” I force out through gritted teeth.

I did, however, just punch an FBI agent in the face and, dammit, if he didn’t have cause to arrest me before, he does now. Smart bastard.

Klein tests his lip with the back of his hand. It comes back with blood. Oddly enough, though, he doesn’t look at all surprised, and he hasn’t made a move for his cuffs. “I know how to push your buttons, don’t I?” He produces a business card from his back pocket. “Here . . . in case you lost my other one. You’ve got forty-eight hours to sort out things with Dina Wilkes, and then I expect you to contact me and tell me everything you know. After that, when I show up on your doorstep, it’ll be a lot less pleasant than this talk. For you, and for anyone who’s hiding information from me.”