No Cry For Help by Grant McKenzie Read Free Book Online Page A

wrists. “That would look good on your record, Marvin. Locking up family members for leaving the Rez and talking out of turn.”
    Marvin bristled. “It’s called aiding and abetting. Wallace is wanted—”
    “Fancy words for the same thing,” interrupted Crow. “I haven’t done anything except deliver your message to a friend. Arrest me and you’ll just be trying to prove how white you can be.”
    “Fuck you.”
    “No, Marvin. Fuck you. If you want to be the goddamn sheriff then do some of the work. Wallace said he didn’t do anything and I believe him. That should mean something to you, too. Has your department even tested the blood to make sure a crime was actually committed there?”
    “It’s not just the blood, Crow. You know that.”
    “First things first. Find out whose blood it is and then we’ll see about the rest. If the blood belongs to Alicia or the boys, I’ll hunt Wallace down myself and bring him to you.”
    “That’s not how this works,” said Marvin. “The evidence points to Wallace and we need to talk to him.”
    “Well, you can’t. He’s gone. You do some bloody work and maybe he’ll come back.”
    Marvin shook his head. “You watch too much damn TV, Crow. DNA takes a long time to process, plus there’s nothing left to match it to. He got rid of everything, remember? No toothbrushes. No hair brushes. No soiled clothes. Pretty convenient, you have to admit.”
    Crow hesitated. In this arena, as with the rodeo bulls, he was clearly outmatched.
    “Just test it, Marvin,” he said dismissively. “It might be something.”
    Marvin switched off his flashlight.
    “You’re an embarrassment, Crow,” he said from somewhere in the dark. “Always have been.”
    Hell, thought Crow as he walked up the path to his front door, with his family history it was impossible not to be.

CHAPTER 11
     
     
    Crow found Wallace standing in wet, grubby socks in the middle of the kitchen at the rear of the house. He had removed his muddy shoes and jacket at the back door before slipping quietly inside. All the lights were off except for the perpetual glow of the microwave’s digital clock and its electric blue hue turned his flesh to a zombified gray.
    With his sodden clothes and drowned-rat hair, Wallace further resembled the living dead from a B-Grade horror movie. If Delilah had heard him enter and went to investigate, she would have screamed at the top of her lungs.
    How the hell would Crow have explained that to Marvin?
    “Why did you tell Marvin we spoke?” asked Wallace.
    Crow parried his friend’s suspicious tone with an easy grin. He hadn’t known Wallace was listening to their conversation.
    “He’d know I was lying if I hadn’t,” said Crow. “Then he would hang around to try and catch me meeting up with you. This way, he knows I warned you and you’re gone. I’d have to be a fool to meet up again.” Crow grinned wider. “Marvin knows I’m a lot of things, but I ain’t that dumb.”
    Wallace attempted to return the smile, but the muscles around his mouth were unable to co-operate. He shifted from foot to foot like an old boxer who’s suffered one too many blows.
    “When do we move out?” he asked.
    “I’ll make some calls,” said Crow. “You grab a shower, I’ll find some fresh clothes and we’re gone. Sound good?”
    Wallace nodded and padded his way out of the kitchen and down the hall. He left wet footprints in his wake, the arches flat, carrying a heavy load.
     
     
    THE SHOWER brought new life. Wallace felt its warm spray easing the sore muscles in his back, the deep bruises on his legs and hips, and the cuts, chinks and scrapes that pebbled nearly every inch of his flesh.
    The crash had rattled his bones more than he realized, but he knew it could have been much worse. The passenger side of the van was crushed. If Alicia had been with him, or the boys . . . .
    He pushed away the blackness, allowing the steam to seep into his mind and shift the muddled clouds