When Devils Sing(90)

Sam thought she had her feelings under control, but the sight of Reid had sent a tremor of anger through her. He was a walking reminder of what happened to Ben, of what Jonah Langley had done to them both without any repercussions. She was reminded of the fight with Dawson a month ago, of her raw grief, of what she’d done—of all the awful feelings threatening to boil over if she didn’t keep herself together.

Without thinking, she said, “Dawson’s barely been missing more than a week and you’ve already made new friends. You sure move on quick.”

Reid looked up. “They’re not—I mean—it’s not what you think.”

Sam drew closer, abandoning her post at the end of the hall. “Was he just a Carrion plaything for you?” she pressed. “A trailer-trash toy you only kept around to piss off your daddy?”

“I’m hurting just as you are, Sam,” Reid said, his voice low and strained. He stood up. “Or, maybe even more than you. At least Dawson and I were speaking before he disappeared. I didn’t get on the news and lie about seeing him before he ‘drowned.’”

Sam flinched. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

“Then clarify for me, will you?” Reid demanded. “What was so bad that made you lie like that? It was about money, wasn’t it? Tell me, Sam, what’s your price? What does it cost to betray your best friend?”

“I don’t owe you shit, Reid.” Sam leaned against the wall. “You’re no saint anyway.”

Hurt flashed across Reid’s face. “What does that even mean?”

“The hit-and-run accident,” Sam began. The memory of the collision tasted metallic in her mouth. She could still hear the scraping metal, feel the way the car had contorted around her body. “How’s Jonah holding up afterward? Is he okay?”

Reid’s gray eyes grew wide. “How’d you…?”

“I didn’t know for certain, but I do now,” Sam said coolly. “Tell me, Reid, what was your price to protect Jonah’s secret?”

Reid didn’t respond before the office door opened. Isaiah stepped out, holding a piece of paper in his hands. “I found something. Dawson’s pay stubs from just before he went missing.”

Reid struggled to wipe the shame from his face. “Yeah?” Isaiah passed the paper to him.

Sam joined them, looking it over. The pay stub detailed a drastic change in Dawson’s pay in the past month, going from minimum wage to suddenly getting paid a grand per week before he’d gone missing in June. A year of that kind of salary and he would’ve been making twice as much as the average Langley County resident. It was nearly the same salary her daddy made.

Reid pointed to an address line under Dawson’s name. “That must be where he was staying.”

“And I guess when things went bad, he must’ve checked in at the motel to figure out his next move,” Isaiah said.

Sam murmured, “But they took him before he could talk to anyone. Or so they thought.”

A shatter rang from the office, sending the three of them scrambling through the doorway.

“Neera?” Isaiah called out, shining his flashlight around the dark space. The light landed on her across the room, kneeling on the floor, surrounded by broken glass. “Are you okay?”

As Sam neared, she realized Neera’s hand was bleeding. “Shit—she’s hurt.” To Reid, she said, “There’s a first aid kit behind the bar. Go get it.” He nodded, then sped out of the office.

“Neera?” Isaiah asked again, his voice softer. He knelt beside her. “What happened?”

Sam hovered along the wall. She wanted to be by Neera’s side but recognized the closeness of the moment. It wasn’t meant for her.

Neera opened and closed her mouth, seemingly unable to speak. She could only shake her head. After a long moment, she unfolded her closed palm, offering her bloodied hand to Isaiah. In the low light, Sam could just barely make out a small, triangular object. It took a second for her to realize it was a guitar pick.

“It’s Ajay’s,” Neera said, her voice cracking a little. “His lucky guitar pick. The only one he used. He carried it on him, in his pocket. Always in his right pocket.”

Delicately, Isaiah asked, “Are you sure?”

“It’s rare. You can’t even find one like it on eBay.” Neera’s eyebrows furrowed. “It wasn’t in his things when he died. I couldn’t find it anywhere.” She rubbed her eyes, smearing blood and flecks of glass across her cheek. “I looked, Isaiah. For the past three fucking years, I’ve looked.”

Three years ago? A terrible feeling began to build in Sam’s gut.

Neera pointed to the wall. “It’d been hanging right there, in a display case. Right there. Why does he—how does Grant have this?”

Isaiah glanced around the room, then met Sam’s strained gaze. “We need to clean this up, Neera, okay? Then we can figure this out.”

Neera blinked a few times, as if waking from a dream. Her eyes came into focus as she looked around the mess at her feet. “Jesus Christ. I wasn’t thinking. I just—I saw it and … I’m sorry.” She kept staring at the pick. “It doesn’t make sense that Grant has this. It’s wrong.”