Jump The Line (Toein' The Line Book 1) (52 page)

Tall, big-boned, big tits, sh
e’
s nothing like Alaina. 

I close my eyes, making Alaina materialize in my mind.  Supple body.  Dance
r’
s body.
 
Not one ounce of fat.  No oversized mammary glands lik
e—
I stare at the camera, watching the Holstein navigating her way through my living room.  Wh
y’
s she look so surprised?  What does she think?  This is
n’
t a hay field: i
t’
s my home.  To her, i
t’
s the last place sh
e’
ll see daylight. 

I close my eyes again and wait for the inevitable. 

Alaina.  I can
taste
her, little white trash slut.  Wh
y’
d she throw herself at the detective, when she coul
d’
ve had me? 
I’
d like to cut her in half and eat her, like a heady buffet of baby salad greens, despite the fact sh
e’
s fucked him.
Fucking
him.

I do
n’
t mind, not so much.  Sh
e’
s not mine.  I promised Daddy
I’
d save her for him.

Holstein pulls up to the door of my secret room.
 “
Showtime
,”
I say, wishing she could hear.  I get a fish-eye view of her swollen pink lips, fluttering eyelashes.  Sh
e’
s working through the puzzle. 

Wha
t’
s this?  A peep hole in the wall for pretty me to look through?
 

Playing a little game of ESP, I urge her mentally to open the door. 
So I can eat you!

“
See what
I’
ve got for you, doll
,”
I say, fingering the barrel of the big fat Glock I lifted from her when I bumped into her at Arne
e’
s. 

Hullo.  Ho
w’
re you going to explain being shot with your own gun?

Ha, ha.  Tha
t’
s rich.  I suppress a giggle.  I lifted it right off her hip and she did
n’
t know, until sh
e’
d gone outside with Detective Hawks.  But she hid her screw-up from him.

Releasing the Gloc
k’
s safety, I give Dolly the Cow a few more seconds to work up her nerve and open the door.  I can barely hide my excitement.

Chapter 46

Stok
e’
s agreed to help me make my jump-the-line video, so
I’
m hoping h
e’
s on his way to the campus to pick up the video equipment. 
I’
m still feeling creepy about promising him
I’
d show up at his place tonight, but also
I’
m feeling proud. 
I’
ve convinced him he does
n’
t need to pick me up after work tonight, not that
I’
m going. 
I’
m done dancing at Oma
r’
s until I find Robin and catch Megalo Don.   

I think
I’
m set to nail him, but
I’
ve got one more item to get off my plate.  Thanks to the pervert lawyer who gave me a ride here and saved me some time,
I’
m almost ready to roc
k‘
n roll.

“
Aurelia, hullo
,”
I say, sliding in the back door at Verbote Dental, expecting her to pounce on me.  Fortunately,
I’
m not due today, so I wo
n’
t have to suffer Aureli
a’
s overbearing barrage of write-ups for being late.  Today, however, I kind of wish she were here.  The silence is freaking me out. 

“
Aurelia, are you here
?
” 

Verbote Dental on a busy day feels like the morgue, but walking the gray carpeted hallway alone, I feel like
I’
ve entered a frightening underworld.  The silence thickens.  The plush wallpaper
I’
ve hated since I first started working here looks like the fur of a sleeping beast.  I want to turn and run, but do
n’
t.  I promised Angie
I’
d find her killer. 
I’
m here to make that happen.

But why is
n’
t Aurelia here?

Hands at my side, I creep down the hall to Verbot
e’
s lab and knock on the door. 

“
Doctor Verbote?  Um, Brick?  Hullo.  I
t’
s me, Alaina. 
I’
m sorry to bother you, but
I
—”

The door flies open.  Waving his ever-present scalpel, Brick studies me like
I’
m one of his impressions, or worse, like
I’
m a cadaver.  A befuddled look clouding his face, he finally speaks.
 “
Alaina, what are you doing here?  I was
n’
t expecting you
.
”

Well, yeah.  Tha
t’
s the idea.
 

I smile brightly, edge closer.
 “
Are
n’
t you going to invite me in
?
”

He does
n’
t.  No surprise.  This is Bric
k’
s sanctuary. 
I’
m the invader, albeit invader standing her ground.  When I do
n’
t budge, his befuddlement gives way to the usual dull wary look I do
n’
t think
I’
ll ever get used to.  Today, i
t’
s a little less equine, edgier, and a tad more beastly.

“
Wher
e’
s Aurelia?  I did
n’
t see her up front
.
”

“
I do not watch her
,”
he growls.

Well, alrighty then.
 
I’
ve caught him off guard, but is that wha
t’
s wrong with Brick?  Somethin
g’
s definitely changed in his demeanor, and I do
n’
t like it.

“
Um,
I’
m sorry to barge in on you.  I know this is a surpris
e
”
—
and if ther
e’
s one thing Brick hates, i
t’
s a surpris
e
—
“
but I need your help
.
”

“
Come back later.  This is
n’
t a good time
.
”

“
I
t’
s about Meera
,”
I say, hoping to excite his curiosity
,“
and . . . the other girls
.
”

“
Mmm-hmm
,”
Brick says, not giving an inch.
 “
Yo
u’
ve solved the case all by yourself, eh?  A regular Sherlock Holmes
.
”

I do
n’
t think even Sea Biscui
t’
s head is as hard as Bric
k’
s.  Ignoring his mood, I pin back my shoulders and press on.
 “
My brothe
r’
s in trouble, Bric
k—
Doctor Verbote.  Please, yo
u’
ve got to help me
.
”

Seeing a glimmer of interest, I keep pitching.
 “
The police think my brother killed those girl
s
”
—
I glance inside the lab where
I’
d normally see Meer
a’
s parts scattered over the stainless steel tabl
e
—
“
but I know wh
o’
s doing it.  I
t’
s not Robi
n
—”

“
Who
?”
Brick asks.  Suddenly alert, he steps back, angling his huge head and staring down his equine nose at me.
 “
Who migh
t’
ve committed all this murder and mayhem
?
”

“
Stoke Farrel.  I need your help proving it, thoug
h
”

“
Stoke Farrel
?
”
 
Lowering his scalpel, he leans toward me and stares, like h
e’
s having trouble seeing me, or breathing. 
I’
m not sure which. 

“
Brick, are you okay
?”
I ask, backing up.  If I did
n’
t have to be her
e—
alon
e—
I would
n’
t stay.  This is getting creepier by the second.  

“
Yes, yes,
I’
m fine
,”
he says, recovering from whatever near seizure
I’
ve instigated with my remark about Stoke being the killer.

“
Tell me why you think . . . who did you say?  Stoke Farrel?  You think h
e’
s the murderer?  Is
n’
t he your little friend
?
”

“
My little
f—?
” 

I step back, feeling more agitated than I want to. 
I’
ve never seen Brick like this.  The scalpel waving increases.  The look on his face is scaring me.  I give myself a mental buck-up speech and hunker down. 
I’
m not leaving until I get what I came for.
 “
Maybe we should go sit down
,”
I say, shoving past him into the lab, feeling like someon
e’
s rubbing my spine with ice cubes, grateful the door remains open behind me. 

Several minutes later, after I show Brick my Twizzler package and explain the shoulder in my fridge, plus tell him why I think Stok
e’
s our serial murderer, I make my big pitch.
 “
I was hoping yo
u’
d use your HVO to check Stok
e’
s bite marks against those yo
u’
ve already analyzed on Meera and Angie Miller
.
”

Bam!  This is jolt number two to Bric
k’
s system.  H
e’
s kept me in the loop with his progress on NP
D’
s case.  H
e’
s even shared how, by using HVO, h
e’
s determined Megalo Don has killed Meera and Angie.  I do
n’
t think, however, he was expecting me to walk in with a piece of cardboard from a Twizzler package and ask him to test Stoke Farre
l’
s bite marks against those of Megalo Do
n’
s.

He recovers quickly.
 “
It will take time
,”
he says.

“
I do
n’
t have time, Brick.  I need these teeth marks teste
d—
like
yesterday
, you know
?
”

Petulance is a feminine trait, one I associate with my whiney-head Hyde Park friends, not
moi
.  But I hear it in my voice, and from Bric
k’
s reaction, I do
n’
t think he likes it.  Yet the piercing gaze he turns on m
e—I’
ve seen him look at Meer
a’
s bones this same way a million time
s—
tells me h
e’
s reached a turning point.  H
e’
s made a decision.

“
Wha
t’
s your rush
?”
he says, his tone confirming my guess Bric
k’
s ready to help.

Yet I ca
n’
t blurt out that I want the match before I go to Stok
e’
s apartment tonight.  What if
I’
m wrong and Stoke is
n’
t Megalo Don?  What if I confront my friend, my
former
friend, based on a few hunches and the fact only Stok
e—
never my sweet, innocent brother, Robi
n—
coul
d’
ve put that garbage bag in my freezer?  What if . . . the bite marks do
n’
t match?  Then
I’
ll have wrongly accused Stoke, a childhood friend, my Bubby, of murder, and tha
t’
s a felony for which I can be prosecuted, a potential blemish on my record.

Brick lays the scalpel carefully on the stainless steel table.
 “
An entire police department, several in fact, are searching for your killer, Alaina.  The FBI is looking, too.  But only
you
have the evidence to prove who he is
?
”

Brick is mocking me.  Why?  I want to run, get the hell out of here. 
I’
ve felt weird since the moment I walked in, and the fact Aureli
a’
s not here just keeps creeping me out. 

“
And
,”
Brick continues
,“
you and only you suddenly must prove the police and FBI wrong.  And yo
u’
re going to do so with this
?
” 

Using his scalpel tip, he drags the Twizzler cardboard toward him across the expanse of stainless steel.  Suddenly, I no longer care if Bric
k’
s mocking me.  I no longer care h
e’
s my boss.  I would
n’
t care if h
e’
s freaki
n
’ Megalo Do
n’
s twin.  All I want is to get what I came for, but Bric
k’
s no longer behaving like my teacher, my geeky mentor.  H
e’
s instead hell bent on belittling me, and tha
t’
s one thing that pisses me off good.

“
Dammit, Brick, maybe
I’
m not Sherlock Holmes, but
I’
ve brought you honest-to-goodness forensic evidence, teeth marks from Megalo Don.  I did
n’
t have to, but I thought you were on the side of law enforcement
.
”
 
Seeing the anger rising in his gaze, I soften my approach.
 “
Look, yo
u’
ve helped me so much in the past, so I thought. . .
.
”