Dead to the Last Drop Read Online Free PDF Page A

makes it too heavy. Once they take you in for something like that, I’d have no chance of contacting you, helping you sort out the real truth, and . . .”
    “And? And what?”
    He took a breath, blew out air. “I know the kind of tactics they’d use to loosen your tongue.”
    “Aggressive interrogation?”
    “I can’t let you go through that. Or let them railroad you on a set of circumstantial evidence.”
    “They’re going to find us, Mike. They’re going to track us down. You know that, right?”
    “I know. But this little flight of ours will buy us time.”
    “Enough time to find answers? To hand the authorities the truth instead of me?”
    “And me. We’re in this together now. I’m helping you evade the police. Whatever they think you did, they can call me an accessory . . .”
    I squeezed my eyes shut, wanting to scream. Instead, I filled my lungs with the fresh country air.
    I hated that Mike was putting himself in jeopardy like this. But I trusted him. If we were on the run, then we needed to be—and there was no easier way to straighten out this colossal tangle.
    When my eyes opened again, I felt calmer, though there wasn’t much to see. A lonely stretch of trees and guardrails. A small town came and went. Weeds, guardrails, and more weeds—fitting, since we were in them. Then a sign appeared, and Quinn made a turn.
    “What’s our destination?”
    “Baltimore.”
    “Baltimore?!”
    We’d been on the back roads since we left DC. Certainly, the Baltimore–Washington Parkway would have been a much easier route. I mentioned that to Quinn.
    “Easier to be found, too,” he said. “Remember, this isn’t my vehicle, and that should keep us off the radar. But the feds have facial recognition tools and ungodly tracking resources. If they see us on a highly traveled highway, we could be tracked by helicopter, traced by a Stingray tower, or pursued by a drone.”
    At a red light, Quinn turned to me. “They’ll be looking for us on those main highways. It’s the last place we should go.”
    Quinn continued to stick to the roads less taken.
    “So what’s in Baltimore?” I finally asked.
    I heard a crack as Quinn stretched his neck.
    “Rest and a change of vehicles—”
    “Speaking of which, whose SUV is this, anyway? I hope to heaven you didn’t steal it.”
    “Borrowed. A co-worker had to take personal leave unexpectedly—flew to another state to be with a sick parent. I agreed to get his vehicle out of the shop for him, so I had his keys. No one else knows.”
    “We’re car thieves, too?”
    “I fully intend to get his property back to him.”
    “Without bullet holes, I hope.”
    “That’s the idea.”
    “Is that all we’re after in Baltimore? Rest and a new vehicle?”
    “There’s a good lead, too, I think . . .”
    He took back the bottle and drained it.
    I touched his arm. “The tension is tiring you. Why don’t you let me drive?”
    “What I want is for you to grab another water from the backseat, and tell me more.”
    “About Abby?”
    “About the second time you saw her. When was it exactly?”
    “A week and a day after I met her. Remember Nox Horrenda ? Well, this was that horrible night.”
    “What night of the week was it?”
    “Thursday—and it didn’t start off badly. Gard and I had talked all day about Abby’s big headliner debut on Saturday. We were ready, except for the fact that our menu was still a major problem, which is why I broke into my own coffeehouse.”
    “You what ?”
    “Okay, technically I didn’t. But I did.”
    “What happened? Did you forget your keys?”
    “On the contrary, I brought every passkey with me.”
    Quinn shot me a glance. “Okay, Cosi, I’m officially intrigued. Better take it from the top.”
    After a long swig of water, I did.

S even
    W EARING black boots, black jeans, and a black trench coat, I disarmed the security system and slipped through the front door.
    The table and chairs on our deserted first floor