“This is not the time, Reyes. Whatever you do, do not let Gemma leave with that cop.”

“And how would you suggest I stop them?”

“You’re the son of Satan. You can’t come up with something?”

“For a price.”

“You already have me. I’m paid up, buddy.”

“You have to strip for me.”

“Now?”

“Tonight.”

“What is it with guys and lap dances?”

“I can’t imagine,” he said, his voice deadpan.

“Okay, I’ll strip. I’ll tap dance. I’ll sing ‘La Cucaracha’ in C minor.”

“They aren’t going anywhere. You have my word.”

A relief so cool I shivered washed over me. “I’ll call Uncle Bob and get him over there ay-sap. Thank you.”

“Thank me tonight.”

A different kind of shiver flitted over my skin like a caress at the sound of his voice.

Letting the deliciousness linger, I hung up and called Uncle Bob.

“Well?” he asked, waiting for word.

“Found her. She’s at the bar. Reyes is watching her, but Uncle Bob, she’s with the guy I suspect, the cop.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“See, Gemma gets in trouble, too. It’s not all me.”

“Mm-hmm.” He didn’t sound totally convinced.

“I’m going to get Cookie down there to help make sure they don’t leave together.”

“I’ll be there in ten. How far out are you?”

“Well, I was going pretty fast. I made good time. I can be back to town in about fifteen.”

“Got it. Hurry.”

The second I hung up with Uncle Bob, Cookie called. God, that girl had good timing.

“Hey, where are you?”

“At the office. Did you know that women actually take Reyes’s picture with their phones when he walks past?”

“I know.”

“It’s disturbing.”

“Yes, it is.”

“But I got some really good shots.”

“Seriously? Text them to me,” I said, excited; then reality sank in. “Wait, first you have to go down to the restaurant and help Reyes stall Gemma from leaving.”

“Oh, okay.” I heard her walking, a door opening. “What’s going on with Gemma?”

“I think she’s dating our serial killer. So, you know, don’t make eye contact unless you have to.”

“O-okay. Should I go back and get my gun?”

“Because Dad’s bar needs another hole in it?”

“But what if she tries to leave?”

“And you’re going to pull a gun on her?” I dodged a roadrunner and almost flipped Misery, a fact she did not appreciate. “Reyes can handle it, but just in case, you be his backup. Uncle Bob is on the way.”

“Wait, no, it’s okay. I can see her. She’s with a cop.”

“Aka the serial killer.”

“No,” she said, whispering into the phone. “The serial killer is a cop?”

“He’s my lead suspect, so just keep your distance.”

The minute I parked, I jumped out of Misery and ran into Calamity’s through the back door. I’d sped even worse on the return trip, trying to get there before Gemma could leave, and I arrived just as Uncle Bob was barreling in the front. Good thing we hurried. Officer Pierce had Reyes against the bar, about to cuff him. An off-duty cop named Rodriguez was holding Gemma back as another cop whom I didn’t know was assisting a dramatically distraught Cookie.

“What’s going on?” Uncle Bob asked.

Cookie pointed at Reyes. “This, this monster attacked me.”

I stood transfixed, trying to reconcile that bit of knowledge, when Reyes glanced over his shoulder and winked.

Dad was there, too, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed at his chest, not buying it for a minute. Luckily, the only one who needed to buy it was Officer Pierce, and he did. Paid full price, too. With tax. But that was nothing compared to the price he would pay when I sent him to prison for five thousand years.

Dad waved me over. “Hey, can you tend bar a couple of nights this week? Teri’ll be out.”

“Sure. This is entertaining, at least.”

He smiled. “It sure is.”

“Okay, Wyatt,” Ubie said to Officer Pierce, “you can let him up now.”

“But, sir, he assaulted this lady, then shoved me when I tried to intervene.”

I gasped. “You didn’t,” I said to him, unable to keep a grin from sliding into place. He totally needed to be frisked again.

Uncle Bob patted Pierce’s shoulder. “And he was just following orders.”

Pierce straightened in surprise, and without waiting, Reyes twisted out of his grasp. He’d let them take him, let them get the upper hand, thank goodness, but even he could play the victim for only so long.

“You okay?” I asked him, my heart bursting with gratitude.

Reyes’s smile said it all.

“Charley, what is going on?” Gemma asked.

I turned on her. “What are you doing here with him? I thought he was your patient.”

Guilt flooded her body. It hit me like a London fog, thick and murky. She bowed her head in embarrassment. “He was my patient, yes, but now I’m seeing him. He has a new therapist, so —”