My phone rang with an unknown number. I stabbed at the answer button. “Hello?”
“Angel.”
Not Randy. Disappointment flashed through me, with anger on its heels. “Judd! Y’all are a bunch of fucking morons! Skip town? Seriously? That’s the best plan y’all could come up with? Where are you?”
“Shit. Calm your tits! Yeah, we skipped.” He spoke fast, stressed. “We all talked it over and figured we’re gonna stay low ’til shit cools off.”
Cools off? For a murder? He was acting like it was a lousy prank. I clamped down on the urge to scream at him. That wouldn’t help. I needed him to believe I agreed and was on his side. “Shit.” I blew out a breath, faked a sigh. “Okay, that might work. Where’s Randy?”
“He and Coy are busy setting up where we’re gonna be staying,” Judd said. “He asked me to call because he needs you to get something he hid and bring it to me.”
My Angel-sense prickled. “What kind of something?”
“Just a couple of things that need to be properly disposed of, if y’know what I mean.”
Incriminating evidence. The machete and baseball bat. It had to be. “Where are they?”
Judd let out a strained laugh. “I’m telling you in code in case phones are tapped, okay?”
My god, he really was an idiot. “Sure, I’ll do it.”
“Good. That’s good. They’re in the place y’all fixed a wheelbarrow after the river dried up. You know where that is, right?”
Only one place Randy and I had ever fixed a wheelbarrow. But what the hell did “after the river dried up” mean? Did he mean the flood last year when the spillway collapsed? I started to ask then stopped as my Angel-sense did a tap-dance on the back of my neck. “Yeah, I know where it is,” I said instead, “but why can’t you just go get them yourself?”
“’Cause we’re fucki
ng hiding out.” Judd’s voice shook. “I need you to go get the stuff, and then I’ll meet you someplace safe. Out by Lock Three.”
I mentally replayed the twenty seconds or so of conversation. It was a code, all right, but it sure sounded as if Judd didn’t know what it meant. Which begged the question, why would Randy use a code that I understood but Judd didn’t? Randy wouldn’t dick around with a murder rap on the line. My pulse pounded unevenly as pieces of an ugly picture fell into place. After the murder, Coy and Judd went to Randy for help covering it up. Coy hid the head and clothes in his garage, Randy hid the weapons on his property, and Judd didn’t have a damn thing incriminating at his place. Not to mention, Judd had done his best to throw Coy under the bus by saying Coy had the bat. Maybe deep down Randy hadn’t trusted Judd enough to tell him where he stashed the weapons. But whatever the reason, it gave him an ace in the hole.
And he was playing that card right now.
“Let me talk to Randy.”
“I told you, he ain’t here!” Judd said, voice rising. “You stupid bitch. Stop fucking around and go get the goddamn things.”
“You’re a real sweet-talker, Judd,” I said with a sneer. “But I ain’t bringing you jack shit until I talk to Randy.”
“Bring the fucking weapons to the lock in one hour,” he screamed, “or you can talk to the pieces of Randy that I cut his worthless ass into!”
I kept my head, only because I’d suspected that was the deal. “Bring Randy and Coy with you, alive and well,” I yelled right back, “or you can stuff the weapons up your ass!”
He went silent, and for an instant I thought he’d hung up. “Fine,” he choked out. “I’ll trade you those two fuckers for the weapons. One hour at Lock Three.”
The line went dead. My hand trembled as it gripped the phone. Had I said the right thing? What if Randy and Coy were already dead? No, Randy was still alive. Judd wouldn’t kill him until he got hold of the weapons. But Coy . . .
Sick dread swam through me. Judd had killed once already. The second time would be easier. Randy would protect Coy, though. That’s what he always did. God, I hoped he could.
I scrambled to find Ben’s number in my contacts and hit the call button. A split second later I hit disconnect. No. I couldn’t tell Ben. Not yet. The cops wouldn’t be on board with any kind of exchange for hostages. I’d learned that from Marcus. That wasn’t how they worked. Never give the suspect what they want. Besides, there was no way in hell Judd would let Randy and Coy walk free—not when they could testify against him. Any fantasy I had of handing over the murder weapons and getting Randy and Coy back safe and sound was just that—a fantasy.
I pressed my fingers to my eyes as I struggled to line up my thoughts. Randy would have known that Judd would kill him as soon as he got the murder weapons. Hell, he’d know that Judd would want to take me out as well, since I knew what happened. So why give Judd what he wanted?
A laugh began in my belly as the answer came to me. Randy was a laid back, pothead, gearhead with little ambition, but beneath all that he was pretty clever. In fact, most people tended to underestimate his smarts. Randy had indeed told me where the weapons were. He didn’t have a choice since he knew it was possible Judd would eventually find them.
But my smart, loser ex-boyfriend had also snuck in a clue about where he and Coy were being held.
Chapter 22