Heads You Lose - Lisa Lutz [25]
Dave
P.S. We didn’t die, did we?
CHAPTER 8
“Have you lost your mind?” Paul said in a furious whisper. “Call the cops first, then decide what to do? Did you ever think to maybe talk it over with me? I know it’s three a.m. and you’re scared. But did it occur to you that maybe we should get our stories straight?”
Lacey looked woozy and focused at the same time. “Here’s the story,” she said. “My ex-fiancé is dead in our driveway. The end. This has to stop.”
“You have to stop. It’s like you’ve been trying to get us deeper into this mess ever since it started.”
“I’d love to chat. Fact is, the cops are on their way,” Lacey said wearily. “Do you want to help me load up the rest of the plants or not?”
She had a point. Paul shook his head and returned to the basement. He put the cops’ ETA at twenty minutes. This time of night, first on the scene would likely be Deputy Doug Lund.
Thirteen minutes later they’d hauled out all the plants, as well as a few Tupperware containers full of finished product, but there was no way they could dismantle the lights and water lines. Neither of which was illegal, but still. Terry had taught Paul to never relax about attention from the law. Even if the sheriff’s department seemed to turn a blind eye, you never knew when higher authorities would decide to assert their power. Just ask anyone who was allowed to open and operate a dispensary in L.A. just so they could be brutally raided by the Feds after building a thriving business.
Paul had designed the room so it could be taken down completely on a day’s notice. The best they could do was sweep up, take all the tools and soil amendments, and pile everything into the truck with the plants. He ran to the barn for a tarp, realizing on the way that the only one he’d find was the one they’d wrapped the body in three days ago. That wasn’t so bad. The tarp was one more thing they didn’t want to be here when the cops started poking around. Not something Lacey would have thought of.
He called her over to the truck and they unfolded the tarp. They both gagged as the smell jumped out from it. They stood on opposite sides of the truck bed and passed the rope back and forth until it was firmly in place. Paul looked at his watch.
“Okay, it’s three thirty-eight,” he said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Lace. But I think it’d be awesome if the person talking to the cops didn’t have dilated pupils or a mysterious arm wound. How about you take the truck, I stay here and answer questions?”
She threw the rope back over to Paul’s side. “But I called,” she said, plainly. “They know I’m here.”
“Uh, good point.” Paul didn’t do his best thinking in the middle of the night. “Okay . . . but don’t tell them I’m with Terry. Tell them . . . I have a new girlfriend up in Tulac.”
Lacey just gave him a raised eyebrow. It was the middle of the night, they were tying down an illegal load before the cops arrived, and her headless ex lay a few yards away, but some reflexes were automatic under any circumstances. “Hmm,” she said.
“What!? I could actually have one up there now, for all you know.”
“You’re right. My bad.”
“What about your arm?” Paul said, pointing at the bloody bandage peeking out from the sleeve of her new baseball jersey.
“I’ll think of something.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Paul said. “Just stay calm.”
“I am calm. You have to go now.”
Paul took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “We’ll get through this.”
He got in the truck, took off down the hill, and turned away from town. He didn’t know where he was going, but he didn’t want to pass a sheriff’s cruiser on the way.
Lacey sat on the porch swing for a while, not rocking, just thinking about how this could have happened. Back in high school, all Hart seemed to need was to make her laugh. He used to do impressions of anyone in town on command. Terry