“Why do you think?”
“You can’t hurt me, dipshit. I’m bigger and stronger, and I’ll flatten you like I should have done years ago. And then I’ll put a hammer to your ugly face.”
“You’re already dying. It doesn’t take much fentanyl to kill someone. You’ll go to sleep and never wake up. Not a big deal. It’s not like you make the world a better place. Sandra won’t shed a tear for you. Nobody will. And what do you think the stepson you treated like garbage will do when he learns of your death?” A pause. “I think he’ll smile.”
Bruce stumbled and dropped his keys. The shovel fell to the floor. He reached for his car to stop himself from falling. His other hand went to his throat. Every breath was a struggle. Wet foam dribbled from the corners of his mouth as his substantial weight caused his legs to give out. He dropped to his knees and then fell backward, his head cracking against the cement.
A few seconds later, he felt Cockroach pulling him by his feet, dragging his body toward the front of his car. His arms and legs were useless. Cockroach tried to lift him into the front seat, but his deadweight was too much. She gave up and dragged him toward the back, then turned his head so that his face was inches from the tailpipe.
Bruce closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he could hear the familiar knocking of his Buick’s engine as fumes spewed into his eyes and nose.
“Sandra should be back in a few days. I used your new credit card I found in your mailbox to send her flowers, along with a note to her office, letting her know that reservations had been made at the Spa Solage in Calistoga. She should be enjoying a deep muscle massage as we speak.”
Footsteps sounded. The door leading to the kitchen opened and closed.
Sandra hadn’t left him.
Bruce should have been glad to know the truth, but he wasn’t. It only made him angrier.
He coughed, gagging on his saliva.
The bitch didn’t deserve a day at the spa. If she had been home where she belonged, none of this would have happened.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After work, Aria drove to Stockton and parked next to a cemetery across the street from Christina Farro’s apartment building. If she was one of the Black Wigs, maybe she would drive to a secret headquarters or meet with one of her team players for coffee.
While keeping an eye on the door to the apartment, hoping Farro would go somewhere so Aria could follow, she opened her laptop, figuring she could multitask. She wanted to search matchmaking sites to see if she could find the woman Brad Vicente had mentioned, a woman named Li.
Aria was glad to have something to keep her mind engaged because for some odd reason she couldn’t stop thinking about Corey Moran.
It boggled the mind.
Not once since leaving her hometown of River Rock after being subjected to her uncle Theo’s sick perversions had she ever imagined that she would develop any sort of relationship with a man, intimate or otherwise. But something about Corey Moran had flipped a switch inside her, made her want to get to know him better. It was the strangest thing that had ever happened to her.
Feeling the need to tell someone, she grabbed her cell phone and called Sawyer.
“Hey,” Sawyer said.
“Hi. Is this a good time?”
“Derek is picking me up for dinner, but I have a few minutes. What’s going on?”
“I met a guy. Average height, boyish, midthirties, I’m guessing.”
“Okay . . . and—”
“And he found a dog on the street and brought it to the shelter. No pets are allowed where he’s living, otherwise he probably would have kept the animal until someone posted a flyer.”
“I’m not sure where you’re going with this,” Sawyer said.
“I have his name, address, and phone number. It’s part of the procedure at the shelter when someone brings in an animal.” She drew in a breath. “Do you think I should call him?”
“What?”
“Do you think I should give the guy a call?” Aria repeated.
“Why?”
“I thought maybe I’d ask him out for coffee.”
“I thought you didn’t like people?”
“I don’t,” Aria said. “But what am I supposed to do? They’re everywhere.”
Sawyer laughed.
“I can’t explain this connection I felt, but I was definitely intrigued by him.”
“I know exactly why he intrigued you,” Sawyer said.
“You do?”
“Yes. He brought in a lost dog. You probably had an instant connection with the dog and therefore transferred that awareness to the man at the other end of the leash.”
“Ha! Very funny.”
“If you’re serious about calling him, give me his name and address and let me check him out first.”
“Check him out?”
“Yes. See if he’s married or has a record,” Sawyer said.
“I don’t really think that’s necessary,” she said, then quickly thought better of it. “How long would that take?”
“Not long.”
“Okay.” She gave Sawyer all the information she had on Corey Moran, which wasn’t much.
“I’ll get back to you.”
“How about on Sunday when you come to the house to take Lennon for a driving lesson?” Aria asked, inwardly scolding herself for being overly eager.
“Perfect. We’ll talk then.”
After Aria hung up, she realized she’d forgotten to tell Sawyer where she was or about her conversation with Mr. Panfili, the guy named Adam, and Nick’s one friend, Felix Iverson.
She might have called her sister back if she hadn’t glanced up and seen Christina Farro walking straight for her. Not really walking—marching. She wore jeans and a tank top. Aria saw well-defined arms, muscles flexing under the fading light. Her mouth was turned down. Her eyes slightly narrowed. There was no doubt she was angry, but what Aria wanted to know was how did the woman know she’d been watching her?
Aria didn’t bother rolling up her window. The woman was intimidating to look at, bordering on scary, but dangerous?
Christina Farro leaned low and rested both elbows on the window frame so that their noses were only inches from touching. “What are you doing here?”
Aria’s stomach rolled. She wished more than anything she had turned on the engine and taken off the second she saw the woman coming her way. But something told her Christina Farro would have jumped on top of her car and found a way to stop her. “Er, um, I was going to visit a grave—an old friend is buried here.”
“What’s your friend’s name?”
“Um, Cyndi Lauper.”
Christina Farro sighed. “The one who sings ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’?”
Sweat dripped down Aria’s spine. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this line of work, after all.
“Let’s start over,” Christina Farro said. “Did your sister send you?”
“My sister?”
“Okay, I’m going to give it to you straight. Your sister, Sawyer Brooks, came to see me. I answered her questions, and I figured that would be the end of it. But then I see you, Aria Brooks, sitting in a car for the past thirty minutes, staring at the apartment building where I live. So I want to know why you’re watching me.”