Page 125 of Fish in a Barrel

“No,” Jackson told him.

“I mean, it’s like the Town & Country passed on the evil spirit.”

“I know,” Jackson said grimly.

“I mean, this thing hates me!” Henry had barely escaped getting his hand slammed in the back more than once.

“Hates us both,” Jackson confirmed.

They were about fifteen feet away from the vehicle now, their attention so focused on what it could possibly do to them that they weren’t paying attention to their surroundings. Neither of them saw the guy with the knife come whipping around the back end of the vehicle, aiming it at them both, shouting something about letting Julius Warner out of jail so his brother didn’t have to go too until he was almost in Henry’s face.

Henry took a step back, and then the car stepped in, the back hatch popping all the way open and tagging the kid in the head. Their would-be assailant pitched forward, barely avoiding getting impaled on his own knife, and then he lay there, out cold, while the hatch to the CR-V slammed shut and latched itself closed.

“Maybe not hates,” Henry said tentatively, staring at their attacker.

“Maybe it’s warming up to us?” Jackson suggested, pulling out his phone to get Andre Christie out there and help scoop up another one.

“Still not getting in it without backup,” Henry said, as though making a decision.

“Smart boy,” Jackson said. As he pulled up Christie’s number, he wondered if they could get Rabbi Watsonandthe insurance agent out to their house. If they couldn’t exorcise the vehicle, maybe they could bless it, put it in a good mood. A possessed car could be helpful, as long as it didn’t maim Jackson or Henry as it did good work.

I’ve Got You

A Fishlet

“SO, NO?”Ellery asked as they left the county jail.

“Fuck no,” Jackson said savagely, still shaking. Ellery’s hand on the small of his back told him he was dangerously close to losing his shit in a very public venue. He took a deep breath and an extra step away. He knew Ellery didn’t like public displays of affection. He didn’t want to obligate Ellery to break his own rules because he couldn’t hold himself together.

“I’m sorry about that,” Ellery said softly as they got into the Lexus. Jackson wished he could drive. It would give him an excuse not to talk about it.

“Somebody lied heinously to Jade when they called,” he said, sliding on his belt.

“I know they did.”

Jade had gotten a call from the jailhouse clerk saying Ellery’s presence had been requested to represent a client accused of murder and possession.

Nobody had mentioned that the murder was of a four-year-old girl, and the possession had been the drugs she’d ingested from her mother’s boyfriend’s meth stash.

The boyfriend had been completely unrepentant, blaming “the stupid little bitch” for “stealing my good shit.”

Not the cases they took. Ever.

Jackson had heard the one sentence and had stood up and told Ellery they were leaving. Ellery had made the polite noises about declining the case—it hadn’t been a pro bono case or court assigned, after all—and they’d exited.

But Jackson was still shaking.

“Lunch?” Ellery asked politely.

“No,” Jackson said. Normally he’d at least pretend to eat. He’d been doing so good, staying consistent, being healthy, not straining his heart or Ellery’s patience. But anything he ate that day wouldn’t stay down—not even a little.

“Home?” Ellery asked tentatively.

Jackson shook his head. “Work,” he said. “Henry and I have some shit to check out today, and I think Jade has some leads for us. I’m fine, Ellery.” He tried to keep the edge of impatience out of his voice, because it wasn’t fair for him to take the shakiness, the sickness in the pit of his stomach, out on Ellery. This wasn’t his fault. The world was fucked-up and always had been, and Jackson had to learn to live with it or lose out on the good parts he’d just discovered.

“If you’re sure—”

“Ellery, I’m fine. Truly. Just… you know. We need to find out how that guy got our number.”