Spike by Kathy Reichs, Brendan Reichs Read Free Book Online

to Ben without looking.
    “Disco sucks,” Ben said.
    Shelton nodded. “True story.”
    “I’m surrounded by barbarians.” Hi glanced over at Cooper crouching in the grass next to me, and his brow formed a V. “Tell that mutt of yours to stop harassing my sweet angel. Banjo’s been in a terrible mood all weekend.”
    “Your psycho cat is the problem.” Then I sent,
And tell
him yourself
.
    “Cujo over there started it.” Hi jabbed an index finger at the wolfdog.
I saw you chas
e my darling kitty-c
at into the dunes th
is morning. Quit bei
ng a bully
.
    Coop growled deep in his throat.
Deceitful creat
ure. Ambushed me
.
    “Coop has scratches on his face,” I snapped. “Your stupid cat likes to jump out of the bushes and slash him, then bolt into the woods. One of these days, she’s getting chomped.”
    “She better not!” Hi warned, crossing his arms. “I didn’t rescue Banjo from homelessness just to serve her up as wolf chow. Feline rights, yo. Cats matter, too.”
    Whatever my response might’ve been was preempted by the sound of breaking glass, followed by high-pitched laughter. A guitarist strummed a few chords, then the whole band picked back up.
    “Reception’s picking up steam.” Ben absently kicked a pebble. “Long night ahead.”
    Shelton plopped down onto the bench beside me. “If it’s all the same to you guys, I might just hang out here for a while. People in there are acting like fools.”
    “Not me, gents.” Hi elbowed Ben, catching a dark look in return. “I know
you’re
spoken for, but this party is a target-rich environment. I wouldn’t want to let the ladies down. Player’s gotta play.”
    Shelton covered his eyes. “You need to stop.”
    “Seriously.” Ben knelt and scratched behind Coop’s ears.
    Outside the garden wall, a car door opened and shut. Seconds later an iron gate rattled less than a dozen yards from where we were gathered. The bars swung open and a man in a white chef’s uniform entered the garden. He closed the gate quickly and hurried toward the building.
    Coop lifted his head, tracking the stranger’s progress. Then he yapped sharply, popping to his feet with hackles raised.
    The newcomer nearly jumped out of his skin. He backpedaled a few steps, eyes darting, trying to pierce the gloom.
    “Coop!” I scolded, grabbing his collar and pulling him back.
    It must’ve been an odd scene to the late-arriving chef. While my friends and I could see perfectly well in the moonlight, to him we were four teens skulking in a dark garden. With a sizeable wild animal, no less.
    “Kids and a freaking wolf,” the man muttered in astonishment, but his body relaxed. He was tall and bulky, with close-set green eyes and bushy red hair poking from beneath his chef’s hat. The name BIGGS was stitched on to his pure white smock, which was fully buttoned up, as if we’d interrupted him mid-shift. Gathering himself, the man nodded our way, then strode briskly for the door and disappeared inside.
    Coop barked again. Hauled me a step closer.
    Easy, fella
. I was surprised. It wasn’t often Coop menaced someone.
    And yet . . . something about the cook’s reaction felt . . . off. Like he was relieved it was only us, despite the presence of a riled-up half-wild canine.
    Was he avoiding someone? Everyone?
    My earlier suspicions flared back to life. Dead flowers. Missing altar pins. And who was this random chef, showing up way late and sneaking in through a secluded garden gate?
    The bulk of Corcoran’s security team had disbanded after the service, when the guests moved inside. Only the captain and two handpicked officers remained to “keep an eye on things.” And stuff their faces with free gourmet food, of course.
    Coop gave a last snarl and settled back down. But I’d learned to trust his instincts.
    I straightened, began chewing my bottom lip. “Huh.”
    Ben’s head rose. “What is it?”
    I scratched my cheek, thinking. “That guy was acting kinda weird,