Shallow Grave-J Collins 3 Read Online Free PDF Page A

investigator.”
    In the heavy silence, I knew I’d made a mistake.
    “You said you saw Lang’s accident. Th
    at means you
    were here before the cops. Why?”
    Too late to feign sleep.
    29

    “Were you investigating Lang?”
    Ethical dilemma. Lie? Pad the truth? Avoid? I was all pro at avoidance.
    “Were you?” she persisted.
    “Yes.”
    “What for?”
    I turned and looked at her. “Insurance fraud.”
    And she appeared . . . relieved. Th
    at was strange.
    “I’m not surprised. No one believed he’d gotten hurt at that stupid job. Th
    ey all thought he was fakin’ it.”
    “Was he?”
    June thrust out her chin toward the window and stubbornly refused to answer.
    Since she’d brought the subject up, I goaded her.
    “What did you two fi ght about before he took off ?”
    Her troubled gaze whipped back to me. “You saw that?”
    “Yep.”
    “Shit.”
    After a time she laughed, a bitter grunt. “Ain’t it just a kick in the ass that we was fi ghtin’ about that—”
    My door opened. Kevin stuck his head in. “Everything all right?”
    Great timing, Kev .
    “Fine. June, this is my partner, Kevin Wells.”
    “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Everett.”
    She waved him off .
    30

    “Sheriff wants to talk to you.”
    June and I looked at him. “Which one of us?” I asked.
    “Both of you.” He stepped aside and we left the warmth of the car.
    Sheriff Richards motioned me over fi rst.
    “Did Mrs. Everett say anything I should know about while you were in there with her?”
    “No.”
    His eyes fl ashed skepticism. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told your partner; you’re damn lucky you’ve got the tape to prove you weren’t chasing Mr. Everett and didn’t inadvertently cause his death. If not for that, I’d be carting both your butts to jail.”
    I blinked slowly. Th
    ink I might’ve pulled off contrite.
    “Th
    at said, thank you for your cooperation today.”
    Ooh. So heartfelt.
    “We’ve taken the tape as evidence. After we review it we’ll get it back to you.”
    “What are we supposed to tell our client?”
    “Not my problem.” His lips twisted in what almost resembled a smile. “Have a nice day, Collins.”
    31

    Kevin drove. I smoked. Witnessing Langston Everett break his neck had taken on a dreamlike state, which neither of us wanted to talk about. Without the tape, contacting the client could wait. Th eir case was
    moot now anyway.
    Th
    e disturbing events led me to thoughts of my half-brother, Ben Standing Elk. Th
    ree and a half years
    had crept by since his body had been discovered in Bear Butte Creek. And for those years I’d been obsessed with fi nding out who’d slashed his throat and left him fl oating like discarded garbage.
    So far, I hadn’t found answers. Th
    e shame of that
    failure ate at me every damn day. Th
    e hole Ben’s death
    left inside me hadn’t diminished with time. Instead, it’d spread, slowly, like an acid leak that gradually corrodes 32

    even the toughest steel.
    On a day like today I felt about as resilient as a gum wrapper.
    Mired in dark thoughts, I brooded. Smoked some more.
    Th
    e second Kevin killed the ignition he sprinted into my house. I’d warned him not to drink that last Diet Mt. Dew. But had he listened to me? No. Not my fault his back teeth were fl oating.
    I bestowed an admiring glance on my gleaming new Ford F-150. Okay, it was a couple of years old, but it was new to me.
    My crappy Sentra had become scrap metal during a case a few months back. Instead of replacing it with a practical, fuel-effi
    cient car, I’d opted for a big, badass,
    black pick-up. Chrome running boards, gun rack, towing package, leather interior, sliding “beer window” and a killer stereo; this baby had it all. Minus the naked lady mud fl aps. I’d removed those and the “Rodeo Naked”
    sticker straight away.
    I’d embraced my inner cowgirl. Seems fi tting to crank up my Gretchen Wilson CDs.
    Yee-haw.
    I wandered to the mailbox. As I fl ipped through