Dead Girls' Dance by Rachel Caine

Author:Rachel Caine [Caine, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2010-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

It had been Michael in the doorway when they’d driven by on their way to Founder’s Square, and it was Michael in the doorway when the car pulled to a halt at 716 Lot Street. Gretchen opened the back door to allow Eve and Claire to scramble out. Claire looked back; Hess was still in the backseat, watching them go. He wasn’t making a move to get out with them. “Detective?’” she asked. Eve was already halfway up the walk, moving fast. Claire knew that the first rule of Morganville was “Never hang around out in the dark,’” but she did it anyway.

“I’m going back to the station,’” he said. “Hans and Gretchen will drop me off. It’s okay.’”

She didn’t like the idea of leaving anybody alone with Hans and Gretchen, but he was the adult, and he had to know what he was doing, right? She nodded, backed up, and then turned and ran the rest of the way up the steps and into the house.

Michael had pulled Eve inside, but not far in; she nearly ran into the two of them when she charged over the threshold. She slammed the door and locked it—Shane or Michael had replaced the locks again, and added more—and spun around to see that Michael had Eve in a bear hug, pressing her against him so tight that she nearly disappeared. He looked at Claire in total misery over Eve’s shoulder. “What the hell is going on? Where’s Shane?’”

Oh God, he didn’t know. Why didn’t he know? “What happened?’” she blurted. “Why did you let him leave?’”

“Shane? I didn’t let him do anything. Any more than I let you go running off unprotected in the middle of the day—his dad called. He just…left. It was still daylight. There wasn’t anything I could do.’” Michael pushed Eve back a little and looked at her. “What happened?’”

“Brandon’s dead,’” Eve said. She didn’t try to soften it, and her voice was as hard as an iron bar. “They’ve got Shane in a cage on Founder’s Square for his murder.’”

Michael sagged back against the wall as if she’d punched him in the stomach. “Oh,’” he whispered. “Oh my God.’”

“They’re going to kill him,’” Claire said. “They’re going to burn him alive.’”

Michael closed his eyes. “I know. I remember.’” Oh, crap, he’d seen it done before. So had Eve. She remembered them saying so before, though they’d spared her the details. Michael just breathed for a few seconds, and then said, “We have to get him out.’”

“Yeah,’” Eve agreed. “I know. But by we, you mean me and Claire, right? Because you’re of no damn use at all.’”

She might as well have punched him again, Claire thought; Michael’s mouth dropped open, and she saw the agony in his eyes. Eve must not have seen it. She turned and clomped away, brisk and efficient.

“Claire!’” she called back. “Come on! Move it!’”

Claire looked miserably at Michael. “I’m sorry,’” she said. “She didn’t mean that.’”

“No, she did,’” he said faintly. “And she’s right.

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