Graveyard Games (12 page)

Dusty raised her eyebrows. “You were in the
army?”

“
Yes, ma’am.” He winked at
her. “Roy and I met when we were stationed in Haiti
together.”

“
Haiti?” she frowned. “We
have troops in Haiti?”

“
Troops all over the
world, darlin’.” He smiled. “This was back when Papa Doc was some
sorta threat.”

Dusty looked him over. “Bet you looked good
in a uniform.”

“
All the girls thought
so.” He grinned, opening the little dishwasher under the bar where
he washed glasses. “So Sam’s all by himself now. I keep an eye on
him as much as I can.”

“
What about his
mother?”

Lee shook his head. “She died when he was
born.”

“
How awful. What
happened?”

“
The baby came out
wrongways. Feet first.” Lee paused to draw another beer for
someone. “They had to yank on him hard, Roy said, practically
twisted his little head off getting him out.”

They were quiet for a moment. Dusty asked,
“So she died during childbirth?”

“
No,” Lee replied. “She
died a few days after they came home from the hospital.”

“
Of what?”

“
Embolism,” he said,
shaking his head.

Dusty looked at him, horrified. “Oh my god…
and the father was left all alone with a newborn?”

“
Yeah,” Lee agreed. “They
got real close, just the two of them. That’s why Sam’s still pretty
broke up about his dad.”

She nodded, feeling tears stinging her eyes.
“I know how he feels.”

“
I think he's a little
lonely, you know?” Lee went on, not noticing her watery eyes. “And,
as I started out to tell you, he really likes you… from what I can
see, it's heading for a full-fledge crush.”

“
Oh, come on—”

Lee pointed and nodded toward the old
Wurlitzer. “If you hadn't noticed, Grady hasn't moved from the juke
all night."

Dusty looked, and sure enough, the old Tom
was stretched out on top of it, eyes closed, purring and
contented.

She smiled, shaking her head. "That's kinda
sweet.”

"Yeah," Lee said. "I guess he has to think
up topics of conversation, but he's a good kid. A little slow up
here." Lee tapped his forehead. "But he's sure not lacking here."
Lee’s hand covered his heart.

"I know," she said, smiling. "Well, it's
past time for me to get back to work, boss."

"Hey, Dusty," Lee called as she headed
toward one of the tables. "I know you’re probably not interested,
but…don't be...mean to him."

"I won't," she assured him. "What can I get
you?" Dusty directed her question to the guy who had just sat down
at the table behind her.

"Dusty!" Jake’s eyes widened when he saw her
and widened even further when his gaze met her hemline. “What are
you doing here?”

“
Working.” She poised her
pen above her pad. “What can I get you?”

Jake flipped a strand of long dark hair out
of his eyes. “What happened to your job in Chicago?”

She shrugged, trying to ignore the twist in
her belly at the mention of her former employer. “It sort of
disappeared.”

“
Kind of a step down,
isn’t it?” Jake looked around the Starlite and then back at her.
His hair had fallen over his left eye again, but he didn’t bother
with it this time.

“
It’s temporary,” she
explained. “Keeps my mind off…things.”

“
Ah.” He grimaced and
nodded. “Hey, listen…about Nick…”

She waved the question away. It was the last
thing she wanted to talk about, especially here. “What can I get
you?”

He ignored her question, asking instead, “So
what are you going to do after this, then?”

“
I don’t know,” she
replied honestly. Whenever she thought of her future now, it looked
blank to her, like static on the television. There was nothing
there. “Any ideas?”

“
You could always come
work at Vikings with me and Shane.” He winked at her as he leaned
back in his chair.

She laughed. “I’m hardly qualified.”

“
Oh come on, you could
drop an engine with the best of us,” he reminded her with a smile.
The memory of working on cars with Nick and Shane and the rest of
the gang made her both sad and nostalgic. She had rebuilt the
transmission on Shane’s Mustang herself.

“
That was a million years
ago,” she said, reminding them both of that fact. “I don’t remember
the difference between a torque wrench and a screwdriver
anymore.”

Jake scoffed, blowing a stray piece of dark
hair out of his eyes. “Most girls don’t even know what a torque
wrench is.”

“
Most girls didn’t grow up
in Larkspur.”

He sighed. “Man, I miss those days.”

“
I guess life goes on…”
Dusty bit her lip, hard, not wanting to remember the things that
were coming back.

Jake leaned forward, hair falling in his
face again, his eyes softening along with his voice. “Dusty, I
really am sorry…”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat.
“Thanks.”

“
I really wish we hadn’t…”
Jake’s voice trailed off and when she raised her eyebrows at him in
inquiry, his mouth snapped shut. He didn’t finish the sentence, but
she noticed he glanced toward the door.

“
Hadn’t what?” Dusty
prompted.

“
I just…” Jake shrugged.
“I wish he’d been with us that night. Here, I mean.”

She cocked her head at him, eyes narrowing.
“Wasn’t he?”

“
No.” He shook his head,
his eyes meeting hers. She was good at knowing when someone was
lying—it was a skill cops developed quickly—and she could have
sworn Jake was telling the truth. That was maddening, considering
where Nick had claimed he was going that night, and she couldn’t
reconcile those two things.

Jake wasn’t lying…but she was sure Shane
was. Chris, too, for that matter. She remembered how restless Chris
had been that morning she saw him at Nick’s grave. Of course, no
one was going to tell her the truth. They were hiding
something…something. But what?

“
Earth to Dusty?” Jake
waved a hand at her, looking bemused.

“
Sorry.” She smiled
sheepishly. “What can I get you, Jake?”

“
Strohs,” he said. “And a
shot of Jack.”

“
Coming up.” Dusty turned
away and headed toward the bar. "Stroh’s," she told Lee. “And a
shot of Jack.”

"In a minute." He was just opening the
breather cap on the keg. Dusty leaned against the side of the bar,
waiting.

"You okay?" Lee asked, and then swore as
foam came out of the spout. The second was better. Dusty didn’t
answer him for a minute. The guy she was standing next to was
peering at the front of her blouse, his gaze then slipping below
the line of her skirt, and then up again. She had the urge to take
him down. She was certainly capable—two maneuvers and he’d be on
the ground. She fought the impulse, knowing her anger wasn’t about
him, and turned to Lee.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Dusty put
the drinks on her tray.

“
Sure.” Lee raised an
eyebrow at her.

“
The night…Nick died…” She
hated saying it out loud. She hadn’t mentioned Nick to Lee or vice
versa since the day she’d applied for the job. “Was he in here that
night? Do you remember?”

“
No.” Lee shook his head
sadly. “Cops asked me that, too. I don’t know what he was doing out
at the cemetery that night, Dusty. Wish I could help
you.”

Was her motivation so obvious, she wondered.
Did everyone know what she was doing, hanging around town, asking
questions? Did everyone know that Buck Thompson had cut her off
from any official information, that she’d been suspended and
subsequently fired? No one talked about it, at least to her face,
but she had a feeling they all knew.

She put Jake’s drinks on the table and
waited for him to dig through his pocket for the cash. Out of
habit, her eyes turned toward the door and she saw Shane standing
in the doorway. The sight of him made her stomach flip, and while
she noted he was flanked on either side by Chris and Billy, her
eyes didn’t leave Shane. He hadn’t been in the Starlite since she’d
started work, and the sight of him now was so surprising to her
that if she’d been carrying drinks at that moment, she probably
would have dropped them.

"Hey, sweet thing!" Someone was calling
her—she knew the tone. She gave Jake a smile as she accepted his
cash, moving toward the sound of the beckoning voice. She kept an
eye on Shane, her thoughts and feelings mixed, watching him walk
into the place like he owned it and everyone in it.

"Hey, Lee!" Shane called. Lee waved. Like
old friends, Dusty thought. He spent a lot of time here…still. That
much was clear.

"Waitress. Hey you, with the long legs," the
voice called again. She turned toward the big guy with the Red
Wings cap. He motioned to her.

"What can I get you?" she asked, approaching
him.

"You." He grinned. Clearly he thought he was
being funny…and original.

"To drink." She rolled her eyes.

"You." His grin spread as he leaned back in
his chair and put his arms behind his head. Dusty had that impulse
again—saw herself knocking his chair back, even saw the shock and
fear on the man’s face before it went over…

"I don't have time for this.” Dusty sighed,
shaking her head to clear it of the image. “We're busy, if you
hadn't noticed?"

"Gimme another Bud, doll," he said, putting
his chair back down.

She threaded her way through the tables back
to the bar. When Lee handed the bottle of Bud to her, she went back
to give Red Wings cap his beer and collect her money, but out of
the corner of her eye, she noticed Shane standing at one of the
pool tables.

"You gave me a dollar too much," Red Wings
cap said, holding out a crumpled dollar bill.

Dusty's attention remained on Shane. He was
having a heated conversation with the guy with the buzz cut who had
moved from the bar and was now playing pool. Jake had joined them,
she noticed, but stood talking to Chris and Billy, out of Shane’s
way.

"I don't want to short change a pretty thing
like you. You busy later?"

"Afraid so." She pocketed the dollar.

As she watched, Shane, with the same cool
expression on his face, picked up a cue stick and belted Buzzcut
across his mid-section. Dusty was on her way over before he hit the
floor.

She glanced at the bar as she made her way
through tables, ignoring people asking for refills. Lee was
watching, looking calm, but his hands were out of sight, and she
wondered if they were reaching for a weapon. She had reached
instinctively for hers and, of course, found not only no gun, but
no holster either. Everyone else paid no attention at all. The guy
with the buzz cut lay crumpled on the floor, holding his stomach
and gasping.

"Out." Shane ordered, leaning back against
the pool table, crossing his arms, and looking down at Buzzcut.
“Now.”

"Are you okay?" Dusty knelt beside the guy
with the buzzcut, reaching out to help him up.

He looked at her, eyes dazed, coughing and
gasping, but shrugged her off. Dusty shot Shane a dirty look,
standing and reaching her hand out to Buzzcut anyway.

"Fine,” he wheezed, getting to his feet and
ignoring Dusty’s outstretched hand. “I’m fine. I was just
leaving,"

Dusty turned to Shane, her voice shaking
with anger. "I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but where
I come from, that was assault with a deadly weapon."

"Last I heard, you’re not a cop anymore."
Shane raised an eyebrow at her and Dusty felt her whole body turn
cold. Word got around fast in a small town, didn’t it? "Besides,
you come from the same place I do, sweetheart. And the last time I
checked, you don’t have any authority around here."

“
You want to fight?” Dusty
struggled to keep her voice toned down. “Then let’s go.”

Shane smirked, shaking his head. “Same old
Dusty.”

“
You think I couldn’t take
you?”

“
You’d give it the old
college try, I’m sure.” He laughed. “Rack ‘em, Chris,” he said over
his shoulder.

Dusty blazed at him. "You’d better start
showing more respect for Starlite’s customers.”

"I don't hear the owner complaining.”
Shane’s gaze swept up her outfit as he turned back to face her.
“Look, Dusty, suffice to say this guy is a Grade A asshole, all
right? Trust me on this.”

She looked over at Buzzcut as he started to
stand, remembering what he’d said to Sam. "He still deserves the
same respect as every other customer here—especially from the likes
of you.”

Shane’s eyes narrowed and one hand clenched
into a fist. She waited for it, anticipating. If he made the first
move, gave the slightest hint toward violence…

"If you weren't Nick's sister, I swear—” he
murmured, letting his fist relax with a sigh.

She smiled grimly. "I told you—you wanna
fight, let’s go.”

His jaw clenched but he didn’t move toward
her.

Dusty smirked. “Wouldn’t want to end up in
jail like your big brother, now would you?"

Shane glanced around. A few were watching,
but she knew most were listening and pretending not to see. They
knew he was dangerous when provoked. Dusty knew it, too—in spite of
her training, in spite of her years on the force, she was still
trembling. She blamed it on the adrenaline.

"Later," he told her, his jaw working.

She turned to Buzzcut, who was putting on
his jacket. "This table is free for you to use."