Possession (Fallen Angels #5)(87)
Author: J.R. Ward

Then again, her brother had always been her family.

It was weird, weird, weird to be thinking of all of this right now. But another funeral of another young life lost too early was likely to bring up things that were unresolved—

The knocking on her door was probably the FedEx man delivering the supply of pencils she’d ordered last week.

Wiping her cheeks on a just-in-case, she took out her scrunchie and re-pulled her hair back as she went for the door.

Not FedEx, although the box had been left on her front stoop.

Teresa was dressed in a pale blue business suit that did absolutely nothing for her coloring, and she was pissed, hands on her hips, glare on her face. “You never call, you never write. You suck. Now let me in—I have forty-five minutes before I have to be back to the office, and you’re going to tell me everything.”

Her oldest and dearest pushed past her, marching into the kitchen and sitting down next to all the artwork.

“So.” Teresa crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her high-heeled shoe. “What’s happening—”

Cait burst into tears.

“Oh, shit.” Teresa jumped up and went in for the hug. “I’m such an ass. Are you okay? What’s wrong? If he hurt you, I’ll screw his reputation twelve ways to Sunday on the Internet. And key his car. And do some other stuff that you won’t want to know about beforehand, but will certainly read of in the CCJ.”

Cait held on tight. It was a while before she could say anything intelligent—but that was the thing with true friends.

They didn’t necessarily need to hear the details of where you were … to be there for you.

Another one?

As Duke walked into the Shed and heard his name get called out, he eyed the guy standing by the muni truck he himself had been assigned to for the shift. Man, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had two subs in three days working with him. Maybe they’d fired the first? Turned out that one had had a bad limp, and though the city of Caldwell didn’t discriminate, it was hard to be a laborer if you couldn’t even stand up for any period of time.

“So are you Duke Phillips?” the man asked.

“Yeah. You with me for the day?” he muttered as he walked over with the keys.

“Yup.”

“Well, I drive.” Duke unlocked the doors and got in. “And set the route.”

“No problem.”

“We’re going to be ripping out a hedgerow,” Duke said, as they shut their doors and he started the engine. “After that, we’ve got inventory to do.”

“What’s that?”

Duke drove them out of the garage and into the sunlight. He’d come in at eleven, and was grateful for the extra hour of work. With any luck, he’d be back to full-time in another week or ten days.

“We drive through parks and cemeteries and make up a work list for the spring cleanup. If the projects are approved, we get more hours.”

“Can I smoke in here?”

“Doesn’t bother me.” At least he wouldn’t get a contact high, like he did at home with Rolly’s pot. “Crack a window, though, so I don’t have to hear about it.”

As Duke’s phone went off, he took the thing out. Checked the screen. Closed his eyes for a split second and then bumped the call.

It was Nicole. Wanting to talk about the kid, no doubt.

Man, the last thing he wanted to hear was that there was more trouble at school. That Nicole was taking a second go at having Duke talk to him. That that quicksand of madness was trying to suck him in again.

He set the terms between the three of them. No one else.

Besides, he had enough on his plate.

“Bad call?” the guy beside him asked.

Duke let the question slide. He was not interested in getting familiar with the fathead in the passenger seat—and he was certainly not going to let the stranger into his biz. Hell, he didn’t allow that with people he knew.

Fortunately, there was no more talking as he took them into town, the rural miles and then the suburban blocks getting eaten up fast.

“So, I know you,” the guy said as they hit some traffic going into the thick of downtown.

Duke glanced across the seat. Nope, he didn’t recognize his one-shift partner. But that didn’t mean the man hadn’t been in line at the Iron Mask or something—although that hardly counted as “knowing.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do.” The man flicked the tip off his Marlboro out of the window crack and put the dead butt in his jacket pocket. “I know that you’re going to face a crossroads soon, and you’re going to have to make a choice. I’m here to help you do the right thing.”

What the f**k?

Duke hit the brakes to stop at a red light, and turned to face Mr. Chatty. Time to set the ground rules before this became the longest workday of his life. “You and I have six hours where we are required to be … together … in … this…”

Duke let the screw-you wind down into silence as he met the man’s eyes. Strange eyes. Strange color.

Just like the other “worker” he’d been paired with.

Abruptly, a cotton-wool feeling came over him—talk about your contact highs. It was a little like what he’d felt when he was around his star boarder for too long while Rolly was toking up—but it was so much more than that.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” the man said. “In another block and a half, you’re going to turn right and take us down to the river. We’re going to parallel-park and take a walk in the park so the GPS on this truck reports that we’ve done our job. But we’re not going to be digging out any bushes. You’re going to tell me where you’re at—we’re almost out of time and I need to be up to speed quick.”

Duke blinked. And then his phone started ringing again.

He took it out slowly. As he saw who was calling, he looked back at the man. With a feeling of total unreality, he heard himself say, “Do you know … a woman with brunette hair?”

As that psychic crackpot from Trade Street went into Duke’s voice mail, it was somehow not a surprise that the man beside him nodded slowly.

“Yeah, I do. And we need to keep you away from her.”

Somewhere deep in his marrow, Duke knew that this was what he’d been waiting his whole adult life for. He’d always had some sense that things were not normal for him, no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise—and that was the reason he’d gone to that psychic for all those years.