Page 8 of Bloodbane
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Shortest Straw
{ R U B Y }
Snow drifts down onto the welcome mat inside the station as I stamp my feet and shake off the layer of white clinging to my clothes and boots. The quick motion has my head throbbing angrily, and I squeeze my eyes shut, cursing softly under my breath. Cooper rushes past me to slam the cabin door closed against the wind blowing flurries into the station.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Rubik’s Cube, but you still look like shit.” Cooper takes the pile of blankets and clothing from my arms and deposits them on top of the filing cabinet by the door. “Maybe even a notch worse than yesterday.”
“You really need to stop lobbing such thinly veiled compliments my way, or I’m going to start thinking you’re looking to push our friendship into the with benefits territory,” I quip before lowering my voice, now just loud enough to reach Cooper’s ear. “How’s he doing? Anything to report from last night?”
Cooper’s calculating squint prickles over my skin. The appraising look ends with a knowing head tilt before he grabs my coat and half-drags me toward the desk.
“Forget it. Whatever you’re thinking—just no,” Cooper whispers harshly.
“You don’t even know what I—”
“I can see the gears turning in your head. Hell, I can just about hear the damn grinding noises. Whatever you’re plotting, let it go. It won’t matter by sundown, anyway.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The dude hasn’t moved a muscle in the past twelve hours. Not one. He didn’t ask to take a leak, didn’t look at the food I gave him, didn’t so much as scratch an itch. At this rate, I think Milo will have to find room for one more John Doe in the freezer.”
“His name is Grayson,” I correct automatically, belatedly realizing I haven’t looped Coop in on last night’s conversation. I shoot him an apologetic look as his eyebrows furrow. “I’ll tell you later. Point is, he’s not going to die.” The quiet statement is more a vow to myself than a reassurance for Cooper.
“Ten bucks says—”
“He’s not. I’m not going to let him.”
“What does it matter if he dies here or by lethal injection? With the state of him, it might be a kindness to get it over and done with.”
“Because…” Trying to find the words to explain my early morning revelations is more difficult than I expect. But it doesn’t matter how I phrase it, Coop isn’t going to take this well. “Would now be a bad time to tell you I have a horrible feeling that we’ve got this all a bit wrong?”
“Wrong how?”
“I don’t think he’s guilty.”
Cooper’s mouth drops open, working mutely for a moment before he seemingly remembers how to form words. “He’s in a cell!” He explodes before throwing a look toward the cell and lowering his voice to a whispering hiss. “I’ve read him his rights! What the actual fu—” He takes a shaky breath and holds it for a ten-count before releasing it. “Why are you telling me this now? Did your memories come back?”
I brace myself. “Not exactly. I had an… epiphany in the shower this morning.”
“Is that what women are calling it these days? I didn’t know that tall, blond, and extra crispy did it for you,” Cooper bites out.
I ignore the dig. “Think about it. Why would anyone mutilate two people and then take a nap under a police truck, waiting to be arrested or die? They wouldn’t. It makes zero sense.” Cooper looks unmoved by the logic. I gesture to Grayson, still curled up on the bunk. “This guy would have to be a blue ribbon idiot to do that, and from the few words I’ve managed to pry from his steel trap of pearly whites, I can tell you, a moron he is not. If he is guilty, he would have killed me, stolen the truck, and disappeared. Then we wouldn’t be having this conversation, not least of all because I’d be in Murphy’s freezer.”
“Newsflash, Ruby: people who murder other people are frequently a few Froot Loops short of a nutritious breakfast. He could have been tired after all that murder—ripping someone’s jaw off sure seems like it would burn a lot of energy, you know? He could have passed out before he had the chance to kill you, or maybe he wanted to be caught and have his name blasted across a dozen true crime podcasts. Who knows what the fuck he was thinking? And more importantly, who cares ?” Cooper throws his hands in the air in tandem with his exaggerated shrug. “The evidence says he’s guilty. The two of you were the only ones found alongside two corpses—two horribly mangled corpses. Milo said there are no other tracks in or out besides wolves. So, unless you want to confess, or you think the killer is a shape-shifter or a flying super-villain, or at the very least, in possession of a sweet-ass jetpack, you’re going to have to book some therapy sessions to examine why Mr. Crispy makes you so warm and buzzy in your lady parts that you want to bust him out.”
I ignore the burning in my cheeks as I drag Cooper to the furthest corner of the cabin, though I have the feeling Grayson is catching at least every third hissed word of our verbal volley.
”You said it yourself— horribly mangled corpses . Look at him, Coop. He didn’t exactly walk away unscathed. For all we know, he’s the third victim and the real killer took off long before you got there.” I notch my chin higher. “And for the record, I would like it known that I’m not so desperate that I have to resort to a literally captive audience as a half-assed dating app substitute.”
Cooper rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine. Let’s suspend reality for one minute and pretend you’re right. Two people are dead. Someone has to answer for that.”
“I know, but the right someone, not the most convenient.”
“You have to at least consider the possibility that they are one and the same.”
“I have.” I squeeze Cooper’s arm and let my hand linger. “I can’t explain it, but I know this isn’t as clear-cut as it seems. I know it. And I’m going to prove it. I’m going to find out what really happened out on the lake.”
“Just like that?” Cooper’s doubt is evident in the twist of his lips and the hitch of an eyebrow, but the resigned acceptance dulling his voice eases some of the tension from my shoulders.
“Well, along with a stylized interview montage set to dramatic music in my head, of course. But otherwise, that’s pretty much the idea, yeah.”
The undisguised look of ‘you’re crazy ’ twisting my best friend’s features should be reason enough for me to second-guess my plan. If Cooper thinks something is crazy, it’s so far beyond the definition that it’s on another page in the dictionary entirely. But this is the best plan I’ve got—the only plan I’ve got—so I have to roll with it, cross my fingers, and hope for the best.
Whether from the heated debate or the warmed cabin, my earlier chill has well and truly deserted me. I shrug out of my jacket and toss it onto the desk, followed by my keys.
“I really think you’re wrong—“ Cooper holds up a hand to stop my protest before I can voice it. “No, listen, please. It’s not just because I want to be right. I think something about this guy is clouding your judgment. I’m worried you’re—“ Cooper sighs at the shrill ringing interrupting him. He motions for me to wait as he answers the call. “This is your friendly Deputy Jones speaking. How may I be of service?”
The familiar greeting makes me smile. Coop is nothing if not predictable. He’s been using the same line since the night we met.
Years ago, when I’d hitched a ride—going anywhere but where I was—and ended up in this tiny town in the middle of nowhere, I’d planned to stay just long enough to find another ride right back out of it. But then I had inadvertently started a bar fight and ended up in the single cell myself. Being locked up almost broke me, but Cooper had somehow made the night more bearable than it ought to have been.
He’s been making the days more bearable ever since.
“Last known whereabouts?” The lead in Cooper’s voice draws my attention. “And how long have they been missing?”
My heart, buoyed by fond memories only moments before, sinks to my feet. I’ve been dreading this phone call. Two people don’t go missing without notice.
“Right. No, of course. And you have recent photographs?” Cooper scrubs a hand through his short hair, locking eyes with me. “That would be great. Keep them handy, and someone will be out your way shortly.” Cooper ends the call and drops onto the chair behind the desk. “I think we’ve just identified our pair of Does. You and Milo have to draw straws to see who’s going out to the Smith Farm to deliver the news.”
“Technically, there’s only one straw and it has your name all over it, Interim Sheriff ,” I say pointedly.
Coop’s face goes pale. Green eyes stare at me imploringly. “You owe me. I saved your life yesterday.”
“And I’ve saved your ass more times than I can count,” I murmur as my mind spins its wheels, turning the current problem around, looking for the most logical solution. As bad luck would have it, that solution comes to me in the form of the shortest straw. “But, yeah, I’ll go. I’ll ask Milo to babysit.”
“Thank you.” Cooper’s pinched face relaxes. He drops down onto the chair and props his long legs up on the desk, crossing his ankles. “I’ll hang until he arrives.”
“Not happening. You’ve been here all night.” I push his feet off the desk, wincing at the resulting thump. “Go and get some rest while you can. Murph won’t mind—it’s the same twiddling of thumbs no matter the location, and at least the station has more warmth and fewer dead bodies.”
“For now,” Cooper mutters under his breath, eyeing the cell as he pushes to his feet. “Alright. But the first aid kit in the jeep needs restocking after your little bust-up yesterday, so two birds and all that. I’ll stop by and grab some supplies before heading home.” He pauses, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “Please be careful, Ru. If you’re wrong, then this guy is dangerous. You barely survived your first run-in with him; you may not be so lucky the second time ‘round.”
“You know me, I’m always careful,” I answer quickly, ignoring the chill tingling down my spine. “Go home and give Lucky some ear scratches for me.” I waft him toward the front door before easing my aching body onto the now-empty chair.
The wailing wind gusts into the cabin before the heavy door slams closed again. I flinch at the sound, already busy seeking out the small blue and white bottle from my desk drawer. Painkillers acquired, I tip two pills onto my tongue, swallowing them dry before pocketing the bottle. I have a feeling I’ll be eating them like candy today. With no more distractions, my attention finally turns to Grayson.
“Is it just Cooper that you don’t like, or are you going to pretend to be asleep with me, too?”