Shallow Grave-J Collins 3 by Lori G. Armstrong

information about the bones to the sheriff ’s department for a day or two. But I’m curious to know what this thing is. So, if you can only get involved in an offi
    cial capacity, then I’ll move on
    to the second reason I called.”
    Darrell sighed. “I have some leeway with offi cial
    agencies, but not much. But it’d be no problem for me just to take a look at it.”
    “Good enough for me.”
    “Where is the artifact now?”
    “In my hot little hand.”
    Papers rustled in the background. I smoked and tried to imagine Darrell as a pencil pusher. Didn’t work.
    He’d always been the hotshot stud with the fast car and faster hands.
    “I can be in Rapid City day after tomorrow. Soon enough?”
    “Yep.”
    “I’m almost afraid to ask about the second thing.”
    I extinguished my cigarette and swallowed a big drink of Diet Pepsi to moisten my dry mouth. “It’s about Ben.”
    I sensed his exasperation through the phone lines.
    “Julie, how many times are we going to go through this?”
    117

    “Did you know Ben had a child?”
    Dead air. Th
    en, “ What ?”
    “Ben left a pregnant girlfriend behind in Arizona.”
    “I-I had no idea. When did you fi nd this out?”
    “A couple of days ago. Th
    is woman showed up on
    my doorstep with a three-year-old boy.”
    He sighed. “I’m just going to say this straight out, Julie, so don’t get mad. I know you’d do anything to have a little part of Ben back. But this is just too . . . un-real. Coincidental.”
    Coincidence is fate in disguise.
    Th
    at weird woo woo shiver worked through me again.
    “Why did she come forward now?” Darrell asked.
    “I don’t know. She’s here taking a class.”
    “Did she ask you for money?”
    “No.”
    “How can you be sure it’s Ben’s child?”
    I closed my eyes. “Because he looks exactly like Ben.
    Not a little bit, exactly .”
    Quiet on Darrell’s end.
    “Th
    e other thing is, Abita fi lled in some of the blanks on what Ben had been doing the last few months before he died. She claims Ben had been working for a tribal agency back here, but she wasn’t sure which one. Th at
    came as a total shock, because in all the years I’ve been trying to fi nd out anything, there wasn’t a damn hint 118

    that he’d been sent to Arizona on offi
    cial business. You
    don’t know anything about that, do you?”
    Silence.
    A sickening realization pervaded every inch of my body.
    “Goddamn you, Darrell.”
    “Julie, listen—”
    “No. His murder eats at me every fucking day.
    Every. Fucking. Day. I was stonewalled at every turn by every goddamn offi
    cial agency on the planet. I went to
    you for help because you were his friend and I thought at least you would care that somebody slit his fucking throat. And you were holding out on me?”
    “Julie. Calm down. It’s not what you think.”
    My blood pounded furiously in my heart, my head, yet my soul was peculiarly empty.
    “You know what I think, Darrell?”
    He waited.
    “I think you’re lucky you’re not in the room with me right now.” Unconsciously my voice had taken on that low, dangerous tone Martinez used.
    “Give me a chance to explain. I can’t talk about this now. Especially not here. When I see you I’ll tell you everything I know.”
    Without another word I quietly hung up the phone.
    Scars I’d believed long healed opened up and began 119

    to bleed anew. I was breathless. Numb. Enraged.
    In the background I heard Kevin conferring with our new clients in the conference room. Th ere’d be no
    breakdown for me. No tears or rants. No throwing cups and glasses or beating my head and hands and heart into the wall.
    On the outside I suff ered in silence. But inside?
    Inside, I was screaming.
    120

    I drove home on autopilot. In my housing development, the Dubrowski’s house and mine were the only ones completely dark and unwelcoming.
    I hadn’t spoken to my neighbor girl Kiyah since last spring. Once in a while I’d fi nd a token from her on my porch.