All the Inside Howling (Hollow Folk #2)(64)

“River. Yes.”

“And the only thing you know that links them is that they’re both drifters.”

I nodded.

“Then you’re either a liar or a fool, boy, because there’s one other thing that ties them together.”

Becca let out a wheeze, as though someone had tapped her right in the solar plexus, and I realized the implication a moment before Sheriff Hatcher spoke the next words:

“The other thing that ties these two together is that you’re the only one in town who knew both of them.”





For the next few hours, Becca and I sat in the stubble of weeds along the highway shoulder, waiting for the sheriff and the deputies to finish inspecting the crime scene. In small groups, the Greyhound passengers were freighted back to Vehpese. To the sheriff’s office, I assumed, where well-meaning deputies would do their best to unravel the events on the Greyhound. The events that had led to Frankie’s murder in plain sight by DeHaven Knight, without anyone seeing the weapon.

As soon as the last of the Greyhound passengers had climbed into a patrol car, Becca’s fingers tightened on my arm. “Start talking right now.”

I grimaced and pulled away. “I don’t—”

“Like hell you don’t know. All of it, this instant.”

I wavered for a moment, trying to decide if this was fair to Becca, if it was fair to anybody to drag her into this mess. But after a moment, I nodded. It might not be fair to involve Becca. It might not be right. But right then, she wanted to help, and I was starting to realize that I was going to need it.

So I started from the beginning, with Luke as Mr. Big Empty, the one who had really killed Makayla Price and Samantha Oates. I told her about his abilities, how he could control people, make them do whatever he wanted, and how he had lived on after seeming to die, and how he could control people’s dreams.

“Like my dream,” Becca said. “At The Big Swirl.”

“Yes. That was him.”

“God damn it, Vie. Why didn’t you tell me? I could have—”

“What, Becca? What would you have done? He’s dead. I mean, he’s a ghost. Were you going to hold a seance?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Would that work?”

“I—I honestly don’t know.”

“Then maybe we should hold a seance. Or maybe, my friend who is ninety-percent muscle and ten-percent water, you should have told me everything.” She delivered the last words like she wished she had a chisel to gouge them into my skull. “What else have you been hiding besides a supernatural murderer trying to kill everyone he hates from beyond the grave?”

So I told her about my second visit to Jigger Boss, and what Remy had told me about the fight, and about the psychic vision in the torture room, and my encounter with Salerno and Lawayne.

When I paused, Becca’s voice had gone dangerously flat. “And let me guess: you went to meet Lawayne alone last night.”

“It might have been a trap.”

“Oh my God.”

“Becca.”

“Don’t. Just give me a minute. I honestly think I’m going to kill you, and I don’t want to do it where the sheriff can see. I’d just be making his job easy for him.”

I did give her a minute. Or maybe two. But then I said, “Becca, Lawayne’s dead. Salerno shot him. And then . . . and then Salerno came after me. He had me cornered in an alley, and something—something ripped out his throat.”

“Like what happened to your friend Frankie.”

I nodded.

“And you think Luke did it.”

“I know he did. He threatened me with it later that night.”

“So what about this guy today, DeHaven Knight?”

“You saw him. He was soaked with blood when they dragged him off the bus. I met him in jail, and he talked about River. Well, he thought I was River for some reason and—”

Becca snorted.

“What?” I asked.

“For some reason?”

“Yeah. He made this big deal about how he’d seen me before and I owed him a pack of cigarettes. Wait. Why are you turning red?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, you moron.”

“What?”

“You look like him. River, I mean. You honestly don’t see it? Jesus, right now, wearing his jacket, you could pass for him if you cut your hair.”

“I don’t—”

With a sigh, Becca pulled out her phone and dialed. A moment later, Kimmy’s perky voice came across the line.

“Hey Becca, what’s up? Did you hear about—”

“Hey Kimmy, is it weird that I liked that blond guy who came into Bighorn Burger last night?”

“Oh my God!” Kimmy screeched, the pitch so high I was amazed the phone didn’t crack. “I didn’t want to say anything, but he looks just like Vie. You definitely have a type. I mean that jawline—”

“Sorry, Kimmy. Got to run.”

“—and his ass—” Kimmy’s shrill excitement cut off as Becca disconnected the call.

“Ok,” I said, plucking at the collar of my shirt. “Point taken. We kind of look alike.”

“Anyway,” Becca said. “None of this makes any sense. You said Luke—”