Snitches Get Stitches

by Vale, Lani Lynn

  Yet she got up, wiped her eyes, and walked directly toward the window as if she did know.

  She pressed her forehead against it, then closed those ghostly inhuman eyes and continued to weep.

  I’d never in my life wanted to go to someone more than I did right then.

  But I didn’t.

  I did, however, watch.

  And only when her phone beeped, and she nodded her head, looking sick to her stomach, did I stop looking.

  But that was only because she disappeared into the house and didn’t come back.

  And the next day, when I saw Tara taking out her trash, I made sure to look at her eyes.

  They weren’t blue at all.

  They were brown. And soulless.

  Chapter 1

  Porn gives people an unrealistic time frame. There’s no way in hell a plumber shows up at your house that fast.

  -Liner’s secret thoughts

  Liner

  Present day

  “Josiah!” my father called loudly from his office. “There’s a storm rolling in!”

  I groaned low in my throat and sat back in my office chair.

  I’d literally been sitting in it for less than two minutes, tops.

  I’d just come in from replacing a few power lines in a section of what we called the ‘swamp.’ The swamp was a part of the area that literally always flooded. It didn’t matter if we had six inches of rain or a tenth of one, that area was going to flood. And it’d stay flooded for a month even if we didn’t get any additional rain in that time.

  Needless to say, I’d been slogging around in shin-deep stagnant water for the better part of eight hours, and I wasn’t in a good mood.

  My calves were burning, and there wasn’t a single thing I wanted to do more than sit on my ass and allow feeling to come back to my feet.

  Feet that were shoeless because my socks had gotten wet about an hour into the day thanks to a leak in my waders.

  “When, what area, and how bad?” I called back.

  If it was three days or less, I’d get up and start planning with him. If it was next week, he could just wait until my feet were aching less.

  “Big fuckin’ storm,” he said. “They just named her Blessamy, and they expect her to be a goddamn super-motherfuckin’-storm by the time she makes it to Texas.”

  I closed my eyes and counted to ten.

  “Son of a bitch.” I groaned and stood up. My feet ached terribly, but I made my way into the office that my dad occupied when he was there—which was getting fewer and fewer as of late.

  He was slowly starting to transfer the business aspect of it all over to me, and it was a blessing and a curse.

  It was a blessing because the old man had worked hard over his life, and it was time for him to slow down. It was a curse because taking over my father’s duties meant that I had to also stay in the office a whole lot more, and that meant a lot more paperwork and a lot less action.

  Walking into his office on bare feet, I made my way to his couch, made sure to pick up the laptop that was sitting on the corner of his desk on the way, and laid all the way back until my head was resting against the arm of the couch, my shoulders resting on an old ratty pillow that should’ve probably been thrown away years ago. Yet the pillow had once been stitched and made by my mother, so Dad kept it.

  “Got an update on that girl’s whereabouts today, too,” Dad said as he turned his chair to face me. “I thought you stopped that.”

  I winced.

  “I did,” I admitted. “But then I saw her a few weeks ago…yeah. I got nothin’.”

  Dad crossed his arms over his barrel chest and stared at me with a curious expression.

  “What is it about her?” he asked.

  I didn’t know.

  I wasn’t sure if it was her or the other ‘her.’

  The one with the blue eyes.

  “Is it possible for a woman’s eyes to change colors?” I asked out of the blue.

  Dad shrugged. “I don’t know. If I was a guessing man? No. Probably not naturally. Maybe with contacts?”

  I grunted.

  Dad knew everything I knew when it came to the Tara that was crazy, and the Tara that I’d seen only once two years ago.

  Two years, and I still thought about those haunting blue eyes. Still dreamed about the tears making them a shimmery blue so unreal that I only made them more vivid in my dreams.

  “Tomas says that her and that brother, the one that’s in the motorcycle gang, keep pretty close to their compound,” he admitted.

  Tomas was the private investigator that we’d used since my aunt’s murder ten years ago. When the police officers had hit a dead end, my father had found Tomas, who’d been recommended by a couple of investigators at the Bear Bottom Police Department.

  Tomas had been an ex-cop who’d gotten tired of the red tape he had to stay in line with. He’d branched off on his own and had excelled at what he did.

  Which was why we continued to use him, even after Tomas had found the woman responsible for the murder.

  “Andy, better known as Tantor,” I murmured. “He’s also why I wanted to keep an eye on the group.”

  “Because he tried to hurt your football friend?” he asked.

  The ‘football friend’ in question being Linc James, a professional football player as well as a member of my MC.

  I shrugged. “Partially.”

  No, not really.

  I’d just seen him with Tara before, and their relationship had struck me as odd. I couldn’t quite put my finger on the why of it, but there was just something about the entire thing that just smelled wrong.

  And their father?

  Well, that was a different can of worms entirely.

  I hadn’t ever seen that man leave his house, but I knew instinctively that it didn’t stop him from being a bad person, and making bad things happen. Then again, Tara and Tantor did leave their house, and it was like they were extensions of him.

  At least, that was what it felt like, anyway. From what Tomas and I were able to gather over the last couple of years I’d been really, truly investigating them.

  “Have you spoken to Rome yet about how you’re investigating his ex?” my father asked, breaking me free of my contemplation of that family.

  The Threadgills were no good, and that included the father who came off as a shining star on paper.

  “No,” I admitted. “I don’t think he really needs to know.”

  Dad gave me a droll look. “You wouldn’t want to know if one of your friends were looking into your family?”

  I made a face and looked at my laptop.

  “This hits the coast of Texas and says it’s gonna turn,” I murmured. “Go up the middle of the mainland. But then it’s going to curl around and head back for the coast, hitting us a second time, all the while not slowing down even a little bit.”

  “Yep,” Dad confirmed, amused by my change of subject.

  “This line of storms is going to smash us if it turns,” he said. “I think it’s time to call in our reserves.”

  I did, too.

  It’d take some of them a couple of days at least to get here. Calling them in now was good. Especially since, either way, we’d all be deployed to help with the aftermath of the storms.

  “Did you want to know what few things the PI had to say this week?” Dad asked.

  I looked at him and tried not to jump on the information, otherwise he’d know that I was invested in this more than I probably should be.

  “I’ll look at it later,” I admitted.

  Dad took the papers that were on the corner of his desk and placed them on a stack of file folders.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll just send you the email once I get a chance.”

  I gritted my teeth.

  “Just give me the goddamn papers,” I ordered.

  Dad chuckled and handed
them over.

  “Oh, and since you’re going to be in the area, I have a crew out at the old Miller’s Landing crossing. Can you go supervise between the hours of one and two?” he teased.

  It was only after scanning the papers that I knew what he meant.

  “Is the crew working on something that is actually a problem, or did you make one up?” I asked curiously.

  My heart was pounding in my throat.

  I also felt like my skin was about to burst with the excitement that was coursing through me.

  There was a lead.

  There was a motherfuckin’ lead.

  Chapter 2

  It’s the start of a brand-new day, and I’m off like a herd of turtles.

  -Coffee Cup

  Liner

  I found it by accident.

  Honestly, I wasn’t even sure why I was there in the first place, but there was something about her that I couldn’t stay away from.

  Tara. Or not Tara.

  I wasn’t even sure at this point.

  But there was only one person that could possibly know the truth that would actually tell me, and that was the man that I was following.

  The PI said that Tyson went every Monday and Wednesday to pick his daughter up early from school. A daughter that I hadn’t even realized he had until about six weeks into investigating the entire family.

  Which was totally weird because Tyson worked at the hospital with two of the women from the club, and they hadn’t even realized that Tyson had a kid. He never talked about her. Never shared a thing about her. Hell, even when Tyson was with her, it was like he was only there out of obligation.

  The girl had a nanny that was with her for the majority of the time, and the nanny changed every couple of months.

  My guess was so that the girl didn’t form any attachments.

  Whatever the reason, it was only another tick off the long line of ‘this is weird’ that had to do with that family.

  “Are you going to help, or are you just going to swing your feet on the back of that tailgate all day?” one of the crew, Barrie, asked.

  I looked over at the kid, then looked over at Jones, another member of the crew.

  Barrie had been there for about a month, tops. He had no idea, I was sure, that I was the boss. Nor did he have any idea that I could fire his ass right this second and never hear a word of protest from my pop.

  Jones’ eyes widened. “Please don’t,” he read my thoughts. “I just got him, and he’s a pretty good worker.”

  “What are you talking about?” Barrie asked.

  I continued to swing my feet on the back of the tailgate.

  My feet ached, and I was fairly sure I’d stepped on something in the office that was now lodged in my foot.

  “Just shut up and get back to work,” Jones suggested to Barrie.

  “But it pisses me off that I’m out here working my ass off, and he’s sitting there doing fuckin’ nothing,” Barrie pushed.

  Jones sighed and looked at me, pleading with his eyes for me not to do it.

  I wouldn’t.

  Honestly, I liked the kid’s initiative.

  I liked it even more that he was willing to confront a lazy crew member. Even if he thought I was a lazy crew member.

  “Listen, kid.” I flexed my feet out in front of me. “I’m not part of your crew. I’m not part of anybody’s crew. But, saying that, I already put in a full twelve hours of work today. I’ve been up since three this morning fixing a line in the goddamn swamp. Trust me when I say, I’ve done my time. I’m not even supposed to be here right now. I was supposed to be off four hours ago. I’m only here because I’m following that guy in the red Mercedes right there. Now shut up and let me do that.”

  “But…”

  “Kid,” Jones growled, low and frustrated. “That’s the fuckin’ boss. His daddy and him own the entire goddamn company. Please, for the love of God, shut up before he fires you and I have to go through the trouble of training another crew member.”

  That shut him up right quick.

  Honestly, he looked rather sick to his stomach once Jones got his words out.

  And he didn’t look at me again for at least ten minutes.

  “Yo,” I said as I gingerly hopped off my truck. “Y’all hold down the fort. And don’t let that kid drive my truck. If it needs moved, you do it, Jones. I’ll be back.”

  Jones grunted that he would, and the kid looked even greener.

  Grinning as I walked past him, I headed in the direction of the mental health facility that I’d seen Tyson walking toward earlier.

  He’d parked in Elite Repeat’s parking lot, which should’ve been the PI’s first clue that he wasn’t really supposed to be there. Elite Repeat was a second-hand thrift shop in downtown Bear Bottom. It was one of about ten shops on that particular block that was where ‘Downtown’ ended. It wasn’t the most desirable place to own a shop due to the facility that was at the end of the block.

  A facility that the people of the city had been begging the city to force out for about a year when all the downtown businesses had been upgraded.

  Tyson browsed around the shops that surrounded Elite Repeats, stopping at a bakery two stores down from the mental health facility.

  A ritzy mental health facility. One that I had a feeling was more for the upscale crazies of the area and not just low-income families.

  Tyson and his daughter hadn’t gone up to the front doors of the facility. They’d gone down a side alley that led to the back of the bakery where some seating was.

  But from where I was sitting, I could see them bypass the bakery’s seating and continue walking past it to a gate that surrounded the facility.

  Then I’d seen him pull out a key, open said gate, and disappear inside with the little girl.

  From that point, they’d disappeared from sight, but I knew that they were inside the facility.

  There was no doubt in my mind.

  Now I just needed to figure out who he was visiting and why.

  Bounding up the front walk that led to the entrance, I stopped long enough to read the writing on the door that said, ‘The Bridge’ on it in bold white letters with curly, cursive font.

  Pasting a bright smile on my face, I made my way inside and was struck by just how fancy it was.

  Fancy wasn’t even the word I’d use.

  Possibly aristocratic. High class. Definitely not for me.

  I felt out of place the moment my dusty work boots hit the elegant white tiles of the foyer.

  The woman behind the desk that bordered the far wall looked up when I entered, and she smiled, looking unaffected by my work attire or my dirty work boots.

  “Hello,” she said cheerily. “May I help you?”

  I grinned. “Actually, kind of,” I admitted as I continued to walk toward her. “I’m here to talk to an owner? A manager?”

  The woman behind the desk frowned. “I’m sorry, but both the manager and the owners are busy today. It’s family day today for about another hour. Is it something I can help you with?”

  I thought about what she said. Family day.

  And my thoughts started to whirl.

  “Possibly,” I shrugged. I was winging it at this point. “We’re out there working on the grid, and I’m just warning businesses that in about ten minutes it’s possible that you’ll lose power for about ten minutes.”

  She looked thoughtful for about half a second.

  “That’s no good,” she said. “Not with the families here. Are you certain we’ll lose it?”

  No, she wouldn’t be losing it at all. We were working on a different grid.

  Though the two facilities were close to each other, the lines that fed the businesses beside The Bridge Mental Health Facility were different than the ones that fed their facility.

  “No,” I admitted. “I was just warning you it might happen.”

  I gestured toward where my truck
and the two others were parked. “We’re replacing light poles in the area, going from timber to a sturdier metal. Just wanted to give you a head’s up.”

  She was already nodding her head.

  “Well, thank you. I’ll be sure to relay that message in the event that it does go out.” She smiled, her eyes going a little flirty.

  Well then.

  Obviously, the stuffy desk chick liked to slum it every once in a while.

  Grinning, I looked around and said, “This is a nice place.”

  The girl snorted delicately, and I got the impression that she didn’t like the place. Which surprised me because she sure could look the part.

  “It’s privately funded instead of state funded,” she said. “Only the best for our clients.”

  I had a feeling that she didn’t really think that but was definitely playing the part.

  “Well, that’s nice,” I said as I nodded my head once. “Have a good day now.”

  As I walked out, my eyes snagged on a ‘therapy dog’ pamphlet that was sitting on the corner of her desk. An approval sheet from a certain company—Bear Creek Therapy Dogs.

  Then I grinned, because I knew the creators of the therapy group.

  “Have a nice day now!” the woman called to my back.

  I turned slightly at the door, waved, and then walked back out and down the steps.

  Instead of heading back to my truck, though, I went into the bakery.

  “Hello,” I smiled at the young teen behind the counter. “I wanted to buy another cookie for the young child that was just in here. I caused her to drop hers and I want to make it up to her.”

  The teen grinned. “That’s sweet of you,” she said as she reached for the colorful looking cookies that had hearts and flowers on them, decorated in bright-colored icing. “I don’t have any more of the unicorn ones that she got specifically, but she was having a hard time choosing between that one and this heart. So I’ll give you that one.” She paused. “Do you need another cupcake for her mom as well?”

  My heart skipped a beat.

  “Her mom?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes.” She smiled. “The little girl said that she was going to visit a woman over at the Bridge. I guess I assumed it was her mom. I thought you might’ve caused the whole lot to drop since they were both in the same box.”