Eleventh Grave in Moonlight(31)

He shrugged as I took another peek into the hall. “I’m just waiting on my uncle to finish with the principal. He’s getting me checked in.”

I whirled around and gaped. “Osh?” I said, surprise shooting through me.

He lifted his chin in greeting and gave me a lopsided grin.

I hurried over and sat beside him. “Holy cow, Osh. You look … this is amazing.”

“Yeah?” he asked. “So, you approve?”

“Osh, um, yes.” I could hardly speak, then I realized the lengths he had gone to. “You cut your hair.”

His gaze studied my face a moment. “Only a little. It grows fast.”

“I’m … I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s Amber, right? And you care for her a lot.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then so do I.”

It was like talking to a kid. Like a genuine fifteen-year-old kid. One that would definitely pass as a freshman, albeit a tall one.

I squeezed his hand, then led him into the principal’s office. When Uncle Bob got a load of him, he was as impressed as I was. We rushed through the introductions, and the principal gave her spiel about what Osh was and was not allowed to do. Sadly, sucking the souls out of her students did not make an appearance.

“Have you ever thought about a career in law enforcement?” Ubie asked Osh. “We could use some good UCs in high schools.”

He grinned. “I’ve seen 21 Jump Street. I’m not sure I fit the mold.”

Uncle Bob shook his head. “That’s too bad.”

“Okay, remember,” I said, handing him Amber’s schedule, “you’re Amber’s cousin from Denver. Your family just moved here. Your dad’s—”

“Sugar,” he said, his sudden Southern drawl and sensual grin stopping me. “I got this.”

“Okay. Right. Sorry.”

He saluted, mocking our authority over him exactly like a freshman in high school might, and headed toward Amber’s first class.

Because we didn’t know if the stalker had access to Amber’s text messages—he could easily have cloned her phone—we instructed her to text her mom and friends as she normally would. Even her boyfriend, Quentin, who had an out-of-town basketball tournament that weekend.

Some of the texts from the stalker gave me a sneaking suspicion he did indeed have access to her text messages. He simply knew too much about her family and friends.

Something good had already come out of this whole operation. Since telling us the truth, Amber’s mental state had taken a dramatic turn for the better. I could feel her relief while we were explaining the plan that morning. Knowing we were on the case. Knowing she would be kept safe.

The entire situation broke my heart. And made my skin crawl. Stalkers were a different sort and terribly unpredictable. At least the male ones were. Female stalkers rarely resorted to violence, but one just never knew about the male ones.

I watched as all eyes turned toward Osh when he passed. The new kid. The mysterious new kid who … crap. Every girl in school was going to be swooning over him. I hadn’t thought of that. And Osh, the most irredeemable flirt I’d ever met.

Oh, well. We’d programmed a new number in Amber’s phone from a burner I would carry. I would be Jess and would invite her to the mall the next day. Considering the circumstances, Amber would argue back and forth, saying she couldn’t go, that she had a lot of stuff going on, but I would eventually convince her to go. And then we would be ready for the sting Saturday morning.

We’d also set up some codes, so I could secretly make sure everything was okay without tipping off Joe Stalker. I’d have to ask her about her cousin Osh. See how his first day of school was going. Make sure he wasn’t setting up any dates for later. From what I’d seen, many of the seniors at Roadrunner High could moonlight as supermodels. Maybe there was something in the water. I didn’t remember the girls at my high school looking like pop artists and movie stars.

“Okay, we’re all set,” Uncle Bob said, walking out of the principal’s office. Underneath his very Uncle Bob exterior beat the heart of a pissed-off Uncle Bob interior. Whoever this stalker was, his life was about to take a turn for the worse.

I knew what happened to people who messed with those Ubie loved.

We were headed to his SUV. I slowed my pace in thought. I really did know what happened to such people. Damn. Now I was going to have to make it my mission to get to Joe Stalker before Ubie did. Getting away with murder was not something that happened often. For him to pull that rabbit out of his hat twice would be nigh impossible.

I watched him walk out the front doors, apprehension working a hole into my stomach.

* * *

When we emerged from the halls of medium-to-higher education, I noticed a thrill rush through the crowd like an electrical current. A telltale sign that somewhere nearby stood a very hot person of the male variety. Girls twittered as they talked quietly. They giggled and gasped. Either Osh had already made an impact, or my husband was checking out the younger crowd.

Yep. We’d turned the corner of the building, heading toward the parking lot, when I spotted Mr. Reyes Farrow standing next to his stunning ’70 Plymouth ’Cuda. Classic. Dark. And all muscle. The car was hot, too.

He raised his chin in greeting to Ubie and waited for me. And he was going to cause about twenty girls to be late for class. They stood around, whispering and gazing starry-eyed. The guy took chick magnet to a whole new level of attraction. He was less like a refrigerator magnet and more like one of those cranes that picked up junk cars to be crushed. Substitute girls’ hearts for the cars, and that was Reyes in a nutshell.

“Okay,” Ubie said, “I’m getting the details worked out with the op team. You’ll keep in contact with Amber all day, yeah?”

“Of course, Uncle Bob. We are going to get this guy.”

He nodded, unconvinced. At least he’d stopped harassing me to take a few days off.

“Okay. Get your ass home.”

“Uncle Bob, what’s going on? Why the sudden need for me to take a few days off?”

He shook his head. “I just think you need a break,” he said, lying through his slightly crooked teeth.

“Well, I just got back from a vigorous trip to Scotland. No more taking off for a while.”

“I mean it, Charley.”

“I can see that.”

Not really sure if I’d agreed or not, he walked to his SUV.

What would have Ubie so upset that he couldn’t tell me? He would hide it from me? Maybe he knew we were stalking him, for his own good, of course.

I looked across the street and spotted Garrett’s black truck, still on Ubie duty. We had yet to catch Guerin, and I couldn’t take the chance that, even though we thwarted the initial design that the man was destined to kill Uncle Bob, it would happen anyway. Fate was a fickle thing. Who knew what changing one miniscule part of it would do to the rest? I was a firm believer in the Butterfly Effect.

“Hey, handsome,” I said, strolling up to Mr. Farrow.

He eyed me, a dimple appearing at one corner of his mouth, but he was mostly looking at my T-shirt, which read, IN MY DEFENSE, I WAS LEFT UNSUPERVISED.

“What brings you to this neck of the woods?” I asked, pulling on a sweater over my shirt.

“I thought we’d take the morning off.”

“Did you?” I rose onto my toes for a kiss. He obliged, his essence warming my lips. “Are you cahooting with my uncle?”

“Cahooting?” he asked, quirking a brow. “Not that I know of.”

“Okay, then this wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain case I’m working on?”

“Not at all. Cookie’s in full research mode, so—”

“Cookie’s daughter is in danger. I’m not sure how much research she’ll get done today.”

“True, but one morning away from the grind isn’t going to hurt your chances of nailing the Fosters.”

“I guess.” I waved at Uncle Bob as he drove away, and I went around to the other side of the sexy beast Reyes drove. “Any change in Ubie’s status?” I asked, wondering if the guy Reyes saw in prison was still slated to murder him even though we’d stopped it. I didn’t know that much about destiny. If we thwarted one attempt, was another one sure to follow?

He got in, disappointing his fans, and started the powerful engine, like a lion’s purr. “It’s not your uncle I need to see where that’s concerned. All I see is what got him slated for hell. I would need to see Grant Guerin again to know if your uncle is still in danger.”

“So, we’re still at DEFCON 1.”

“For the time being, but we’ve stirred up his world enough that the chances of your uncle randomly stumbling across him again are pretty slim.”

“Wait. Does that mean if Grant Guerin doesn’t do the deed he was slated for, if he doesn’t kill Uncle Bob, he won’t go to hell?”

“He’s making some bad decisions, so he’s on a pretty direct path to cause someone harm. I only see the initial offense. There’s no telling how many other crimes he was destined to commit afterwards. The chances are still pretty good that he will end up on fire eventually.”

“I wish I could see that.”