Read Online Shadow Tag (The Ray Schiller Series - Book 2) by Marjorie Doering - Free Book Online
Authors: Marjorie Doering
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Michael,” Gaines said. “I didn’t see any reason to involve him.”
“Bullshit. There’s got to be more to it,” Ray said. “Is it Johnson you’re protecting or someone else?”
“Hell, man, I just didn’t see any point in bringing Johnson into it. What would be the point? And I told you I never saw anyone else; I was cramming for my exams.”
“That must’ve been some intense study session.” Ray stepped back in front of Gaines. “Personally, I think you’re feeding us a line of crap.”
“Think whatever you want, man. I’d have been on it like a shot any other time, but I couldn’t let myself get distracted—not with my finals being the next day.”
“You must be one hell of a motivated guy.”
Anger replaced the shame in his eyes. “Let me tell you something. My grandmother raised me since I was six. There’s never been a time she didn’t hold down a job. And for the last four years she’s worked two, because even with a scholarship, the money was barely enough. I wanted to cut back on my credits so I could work and take some of the load off her, but she wouldn’t let me. ‘Just concentrate on your studies, and make me proud,’ she said. ‘I want to see you graduate.’ Six months ago, I found out she meant that literally. My grandmother’s losing her sight. Macular degeneration,” Gaines told them. “You ever hear of it?”
“I’m sorry,” Ray said. “I really am.”
“Yeah, right. Look, all I know is that her sight’s getting worse. I needed to graduate this semester, because, by next, she could be blind.” His eyes brimmed. “Pile on all the sarcasm you like, man. All she wanted was to see me get my diploma, and I was going to make damn sure that happened.”
Ray’s expression softened. “How’d you do?”
“I graduated…cum laude.”
“Congratulations.” Ray lowered himself into a chair. Okay, so the kid was mega-motivated, but damn, would a quick walk down the hall have killed him? “Okay,” he said, “let’s go over this again. Are you positive Ed Costales actually left the building?”
8
Ray drove back to his apartment, replaying the kid’s story in his head. It was clear Gaines was trying to fight his way upstream with his struggling grandmother in tow. If he’d been offered a shitload of money to say he hadn’t seen anything at ACC the night Davis died, maybe he’d caved to the temptation. But why the convoluted tale about who-knows-who doing God-knows-what at ACC in the middle of the night?
Waverly suggested it was all shadows and mirrors—a false show of cooperation. Ray wasn’t buying it. Gaines was smart. Why offer those bizarre details rather than a simpler, more believable explanation? Besides, the kid’s story had been unshakable. They’d gone over it with him nearly a half-dozen times, approaching it from every imaginable angle. He hadn’t missed a beat—never changed a single detail.
Deep in thought, Ray hit a pothole that felt more like a crater. The car was unscathed, but his back wasn’t as lucky. The walk from his parking spot to his apartment suggested he’d undone a day’s worth of healing.
All day long he’d absorbed information like a sponge. Now, having bypassed lunch, he needed to do a little of the same for his stomach. Ray went straight to the refrigerator. Its only contents consisted of a thin layer of frost forming on the freezer walls.
“Damn it.” He slammed the refrigerator door with undisguised vengeance.
Ray remembered throwing a few canned items into a box when he cleared out his old place: at least one can of soup, maybe as many as three, a can of Manwich and an unopened bottle of salsa, which he remembered clearly—Chi Chi’s—Hot, Thick and Chunky.
The soup . Which cupboard had he put it in? Pain reeled him back in as he reached for an overhead cabinet door without thinking. “Shit.”
Using a kitchen chair as a stepstool, he located two cans of tomato soup. Not even a
“Bullshit. There’s got to be more to it,” Ray said. “Is it Johnson you’re protecting or someone else?”
“Hell, man, I just didn’t see any point in bringing Johnson into it. What would be the point? And I told you I never saw anyone else; I was cramming for my exams.”
“That must’ve been some intense study session.” Ray stepped back in front of Gaines. “Personally, I think you’re feeding us a line of crap.”
“Think whatever you want, man. I’d have been on it like a shot any other time, but I couldn’t let myself get distracted—not with my finals being the next day.”
“You must be one hell of a motivated guy.”
Anger replaced the shame in his eyes. “Let me tell you something. My grandmother raised me since I was six. There’s never been a time she didn’t hold down a job. And for the last four years she’s worked two, because even with a scholarship, the money was barely enough. I wanted to cut back on my credits so I could work and take some of the load off her, but she wouldn’t let me. ‘Just concentrate on your studies, and make me proud,’ she said. ‘I want to see you graduate.’ Six months ago, I found out she meant that literally. My grandmother’s losing her sight. Macular degeneration,” Gaines told them. “You ever hear of it?”
“I’m sorry,” Ray said. “I really am.”
“Yeah, right. Look, all I know is that her sight’s getting worse. I needed to graduate this semester, because, by next, she could be blind.” His eyes brimmed. “Pile on all the sarcasm you like, man. All she wanted was to see me get my diploma, and I was going to make damn sure that happened.”
Ray’s expression softened. “How’d you do?”
“I graduated…cum laude.”
“Congratulations.” Ray lowered himself into a chair. Okay, so the kid was mega-motivated, but damn, would a quick walk down the hall have killed him? “Okay,” he said, “let’s go over this again. Are you positive Ed Costales actually left the building?”
8
Ray drove back to his apartment, replaying the kid’s story in his head. It was clear Gaines was trying to fight his way upstream with his struggling grandmother in tow. If he’d been offered a shitload of money to say he hadn’t seen anything at ACC the night Davis died, maybe he’d caved to the temptation. But why the convoluted tale about who-knows-who doing God-knows-what at ACC in the middle of the night?
Waverly suggested it was all shadows and mirrors—a false show of cooperation. Ray wasn’t buying it. Gaines was smart. Why offer those bizarre details rather than a simpler, more believable explanation? Besides, the kid’s story had been unshakable. They’d gone over it with him nearly a half-dozen times, approaching it from every imaginable angle. He hadn’t missed a beat—never changed a single detail.
Deep in thought, Ray hit a pothole that felt more like a crater. The car was unscathed, but his back wasn’t as lucky. The walk from his parking spot to his apartment suggested he’d undone a day’s worth of healing.
All day long he’d absorbed information like a sponge. Now, having bypassed lunch, he needed to do a little of the same for his stomach. Ray went straight to the refrigerator. Its only contents consisted of a thin layer of frost forming on the freezer walls.
“Damn it.” He slammed the refrigerator door with undisguised vengeance.
Ray remembered throwing a few canned items into a box when he cleared out his old place: at least one can of soup, maybe as many as three, a can of Manwich and an unopened bottle of salsa, which he remembered clearly—Chi Chi’s—Hot, Thick and Chunky.
The soup . Which cupboard had he put it in? Pain reeled him back in as he reached for an overhead cabinet door without thinking. “Shit.”
Using a kitchen chair as a stepstool, he located two cans of tomato soup. Not even a
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