Silent Are the Dead by D. M. Rowell

Author:D. M. Rowell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CROOKED LANE BOOKS

Chapter Eighteen

I stared at the phone.

“Ready?”

“What?” Denny’s question jarred me back to the moment.

“We were going to Anna’s. You’ve got to start figuring out how Georgie did it.”

I clenched my jaw. Denny had heard Bernie on the phone, knew my agency was in trouble. I was under pressure and time constraints, but his only focus was proving Georgie guilty of murder. My first response was to snap at him. Instead, I consciously relaxed my jaw and took a deep breath. I was on the verge of taking out my frustrations on Denny, who was really only concerned about making sure Eli was not arrested for a crime he didn’t do. Once again, I found myself rubbing my medicine pouch while in thought. I let my breath out slowly. There was time; there had to be.

I relaxed. Dropped the deerskin pouch back under my shirt and turned to Denny. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“Good. We’ve got to get a move on if you’re going to wrap this murder up in time to make your flight.”

“I have to be on that flight.”

“I know; I heard.” Denny added a faint smile to take the sting from his words.

I added, “Besides, if we don’t have Eli cleared of the murder before noon, we need to call in the police.”

He looked at the truck’s clock. “We’ve got near seven hours to get this murder all wrapped up. We better get a move on.” He threw the truck into gear and eased onto the road.

Almost immediately, dim yellowed headlights appeared directly behind us. Its brights flashed on and off. I turned in the seat, looked at the approaching lights. “Uh, Denny …”

“Yeah, I see them. Buck must be back. I’m pulling over in that patch there. Enough of this foolishness with him.”

In a rush I said, “It’s not Buck. These headlights are aged yellow, not bright like Buck’s van. I’ve seen those headlights following us through the night.”

“And you’re telling me this now?” Denny threw me a look as he eased off the road, putting the truck into park.

An old farm truck with a single spear for hay rolled in behind Denny. The truck’s brights and engine were left on.

We both tried to see through the glare to spot the driver; we had no luck.

Denny said, “I don’t recognize the truck; it’s just another patched-together farm truck. Thoughts?”

Before I could answer, the engine and lights went out and a screech sounded as the rusted truck’s mismatched door swung open. I glanced at Denny. “Time to find out.” I stepped out of Denny’s truck and called, “Who’s there?”

It was too dark to see who was standing by the old truck, but the voice that answered was unmistakable. “Mud, that you?”

In quick strides I rushed to my little brother, pulling him into a tight hug. “Sky! So glad to see you.” A dam of worry and fear burst, flooding me with anger. I pushed out of the hug to yell at Sky, “Why aren’t you at OU? Why were you at the Complex? What—”

Denny stepped up to fist bump Sky.

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