Envy the Night by Michael Koryta Read Free Book Online Page A

minute.
    The longer he stood in the office, the more space he seemed to fill. She had trouble meeting his eyes as she shook her head.
    “I’m sorry. Nobody named Vaughn has a car in here.”
    “I’m rather certain he does. Perhaps there’s been some confusion over the name.”
    “If there has been, then the car’s owner will need to come in and explain that to me. I’m certainly not allowed to release personal effects from a vehicle, sir.”
    “How about we give him a call, together? You can ask . . .”
    Dave O’Connor had left no phone number—or any other form of contact information—but even if he had, Nora wouldn’t have called. O’Connor had been weird enough, but this guy was almost threatening.
    “No,” she said. “If the car’s owner—whose name is not Vaughn—calls me and explains this, then we’ll see how we can proceed. Until then, I’m afraid not.”
    The guy’s eyes darkened and he seemed ready to object when the office door opened and Jerry ambled in, a socket wrench in one hand. He gave Nora and the guy a casual glance and then knelt in front of the little refrigerator she kept in the office, pulled out a can of Dr Pepper, and cracked it open before walking back into the shop. The visitor watched him go.
    “It sounds to me like you might have the wrong body shop,” Nora said.
    For a long moment he didn’t answer, just stared at the door Jerry had walked through as if it were something that called for real study. Then he nodded.
    “Of course. That must be it. Apologies.”
    He gave her a mock bow, lifting his hand to his forehead, then opened the front door and walked back into the parking lot. She stood up and went to the window in time to see him climb in the passenger side of a black sedan. That was why he’d left the engine running—he wasn’t alone, wasn’t driving. She got a clear look at the car as it pulled out to the street, a black Dodge Charger, one of the newer models. She’d made the mistake of complimenting the look, only to have Jerry ridicule her.
Nora, it’s a
four-door.
That ain’t a Charger, it’s a joke.
    She couldn’t read the license plate, but the colors told her it was from out of state. Wait, those colors were familiar. A smear of orange in the middle of a white plate with some green mixed in. She’d just seen that on the Lexus. Florida.
    It wasn’t five yet, but she turned the lock on the front door as she stood there gazing out the window. The odd feeling that had convinced her to get Dave O’Connor out of her shop and back on the road without any of the normal procedures had just returned, only this guy with the belt buckle made it swell to the edge of fear. He’d called him Vaughn. She had no proof that the Lexus driver’s name was actually Dave O’Connor. All that cash, the hurry he was in, the gun Frank had seen, none of it suggested anything good. Add a fake name to the mix, though, and she was beginning to feel stupid. She’d gone for the money despite all the obvious objections, let the guy dictate the situation. It wasn’t easy to imagine her father handling this in the same way.
    Nora walked out of the office and back into the shop, watched Jerry working on the Lexus. The car was empty. Dave O’Connor had cleared all his things out when he left, including that handgun in the glove compartment. So he hadn’t called someone to come pick anything up.
    “Jerry,” she said, “can you give me a minute?”
    She wanted to talk to him, explain the situation and ask if he’d found anything in the car, more cash or guns or, well,
anything.
But when he turned around he had that irritated sneer on his face, ready to argue or mock her or do anything but listen.
    “Well?” he said. “You got another problem needs me to fix it?”
    “No, Jerry. It’s just . . . I was thinking . . .”
    “Hope you didn’t hurt yourself.” That passed for humor to him, real wit.
    “I was thinking you can go home early,” she said. “That’s