Cold River - Carla Neggers [86]
“No, they’re not. They just think they are. What are they going to do if they find me? Arrest me?”
“I would,” Grit said.
Charlie shivered as steam rolled out of the waffle iron. “It’s cold in here. The heating system is inadequate for the conditions. Do you want waffles?”
“No. It’s cold in Black Falls, too. It’s cold everywhere up here.”
Charlie’s light blue eyes fastened on Grit. “It’s not cold in Southern California.”
Grit said nothing.
“I’ll make a deal,” Charlie said. “You let me tell you about California, and I’ll go back under Secret Service protection.”
“Or what? I don’t let you tell me about California and I put you back under Secret Service protection myself?”
“My way, and no one knows I was ever up here. Your way—”
“It’s not going to be your way. Whatever we do, it’s my way. Understood?”
“Yes, Petty Officer Taylor, I understand.”
A tactical decision. There was nothing meek or humble about Charlie Neal.
“Nobody’s trying to kill me, Petty Officer.”
“I’ll bet a lot of people are thinking about it.” Like Deputy Special Agent in Charge Mark Francona and Special Agent Jo Harper. Probably Myrtle Smith by now. “Call your parents.”
“Why? They think I’m with my cousin. You’ll just get some poor Secret Service agent fired.”
“Maybe some poor Secret Service agent deserves to be fired.”
Charlie lifted the lid on the waffle iron and grinned at the browned waffle inside. “Perfect. Come on. Who can resist fresh waffles?”
Grit’s cell phone rang. He saw Elijah’s number on the screen and knew he had to answer. “You have a bead on me?”
“On Jo’s car.”
“Were you going to shoot out the tires and leave me here in the cold if I didn’t answer?”
“Not me. Jo.”
“You didn’t follow me. You’re good, but I’d have spotted you. Francona have a homing device on Jo’s car?”
“It wasn’t Francona.”
Myrtle. She’d said she’d cave. “Where do we meet?”
“Jo says to sit tight. She likes waffles.”
Grit shut his phone. “Talk fast,” he said. “They’re coming for you.”
Charlie didn’t look perturbed. He pried his waffle loose, put it on a plate and headed to his table. Grit followed him and sat down across from Charlie. He smeared butter on his waffle. “You can’t have too much butter on a waffle.” He glanced up at Grit. “Sean Cameron’s back in Beverly Hills.”
Charlie was such a know-it-all that Grit wasn’t sure if it was a question. “He headed back out there a few days ago.”
“With Devin and Toby Shay. Hannah stayed behind in Black Falls.”
Charlie spoke as if they were all personal friends, but that was the way he was. Grit dipped a finger into a pool of syrup on Charlie’s plate and licked it. “It’s not tupelo honey, but it’s not bad. Yeah. Sean and the Shay brothers are in California. Hannah’s here. So?”
“Think they’ll see stars? I don’t mean stars in the sky.” Charlie ate another forkful of dripping pancakes. “I mean celebrities.”
“I need to warn you. You haven’t seen Jo Harper since you shot her in the butt with airsoft pellets. She and the Camerons have had a rough time since then.”
“I know. My cousin Charlie helped figure out a network of killers was behind Drew Cameron’s death in April.”
Grit decided it was just as well Charlie kept up the charade that he was his cousin Conor and not the son of the vice president of the United States. He could claim he thought he was talking to Conor Neal. Not that anyone would believe him. But he could. “My point is, Jo’s still a Secret Service agent. Badge, gun, no sense of humor when it comes to your prince-and-the-pauper antics.”
“Any of my antics,” Charlie said. “Not that I’m always the one responsible. Conor does his share of damage.”
“What, Charlie, giving up on pretending to be your cousin?”
He shrugged. “I tried. Agent Harper had no sense of humor even when she was assigned to my sister Marissa. Marissa’s never any trouble. She’s the history teacher who was almost burned to death a few months ago—”
“An accident. Don’t reach for problems.”
“You met Marissa, remember?