Dad settles a critical glare on me. “Do I look like I have all the answers right this second?”
“You’re the one with the photographs.”
“My men are on it. Do you have any clue why Gilbert might have called a hit?”
I shrug. “How do we know it was Gilbert?”
He hums thoughtfully and turns to the door. “That’s something to consider.”
I turn to my mother and raise my eyebrows, waiting for her to say something in front of my father about my fib. When she doesn’t, I motion for her to follow him out of the room. I secure the door and drift toward my phone, my fingers itching to text Alex. This stinks of something rotten—and I have a feeling she has something to do with it.
***
The abandoned boathouse is empty when Alex walks inside. I’m seated in a plastic chair on the end of one of the rickety docks, tossing shells into the dry earth below. She approaches me slowly, tucking her hands behind her back while bowing her head.
“Found another body,” I inform her casually. “By the pier.”
Her head shoots up, but she remains quiet.
“The thing was bloated pretty badly, but we could tell who he was.”
“And?”
I study her face, searching for a crack in her facade. She’s alert, maybe even a little paranoid, but she’s holding herself together pretty well. If I’m right about my theory, then Alex is a more destructive bitch than I could have ever predicted. She’ll make a fitting wife.
After dropping the rest of the shells onto the pier, I rise from my chair and meander past her. “The fact that I could recognize him tells me it was a sloppy job.”
“Really?”
“You’re supposed to cut off the fingers—or burn the fingertips so they can’t be identified.”
Alex coughs while taking a step away from me. She’s tense now, eyes wide and shoulders shrugged up toward her ears.
“Remove the teeth, take out piercings and jewelry. Cut off the tattoos too. Whatever you need to do to maim the body and make sure they can’t ever be discovered.”
“You sure know a lot about forensics.”
I meet her gaze. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”
“Excuse me.” She shrinks back. “I just don’t—”
“Know how to clean a body. I get it.” I frown with disappointment and then shrug, turning an indifferent shoulder to her. But the truth is I’m impressed that she had the stomach for it at all. “Every little detail matters, Alex, right down to the hairs on your head. One shred of evidence pointing your direction will have you fucked from every angle.”
She idly runs her fingers through her silky hair, the scent of vanilla reaching my nostrils and luring me toward her. I can’t resist the way she places her palm on my chest. It’s a warning, of course, but it’s hardly going to stop me.
“You changed your shampoo,” I point out. “Used to be coconut.”
She blinks rapidly. “You noticed.”
“You think I don’t notice shit? You think I’m stupid?”
“No, I just…”
I grumble while pulling away from her hand. “You just think I’m a machine.”
“Maybe. Something like that. I don’t know, Parker.”
“Well, I know plenty about disposing of bodies properly. You want to learn or what?”