Chapter Thirty-Six

"There he is." Thorn backed through the door, pulling the wheelchair through. "Looking good, brother. I'd shake your hand, but don't want to interrupt." Thorn swiveled the chair toward the bed.

"That's alright, Thorn. I'm going to put on my prostheses even if I'm wheeling out of here. It makes transferring to the car easier. Olivia, can you hand those to me?" He pointed to the side of the room, and she swiveled off the bed.

Beowolf came to sniff Thorn. "Hey buddy," Thorn squatted down to rub Beowolf. "I see you took on a new role at Iniquus. Really coming up in the world." Thorn looked up. "He's working with you now?"

"Yeah, after I got him kicked off his court gig. He needs a new job."

Thorn turned his back while Nutsbe got dressed and into the chair, then went to the back to push.

Beowolf trotted on one side, and Olivia walked on the other.

They were silent as they moved outside and across to the far edge of the parking lot, where Olivia had found an open space.

Olivia looked wrung out, and Nutsbe wondered if she had caught a cat nap at the hospital. She moved round to the driver's side, pressed the button to unlock her car, and climbed in. There, she was able to tap the button to open the trunk.

As Nutsbe stood, Beowolf sniffed curiously at the trunk.

The interior light made prisms in the pre-dawn misting rain as the lid yawned wide.

"Uh oh," the men said in unison.

Thorn and Nutsbe stepped forward, looked, and stepped back again.

"This your work? Kind of sloppy." Thorn"s hands landed on his hips. "Do you know this guy?"

"Mickey Pauley, Olivia's soon-to-be-ex." Nutsbe wrinkled his nose and took another half-step back. "Though, that's, apparently, no longer an issue."

"No flies," Thorn observed. "This must be freshly moved. But he's been dead for a while. Using a tarp or something under him would have been polite. Rude to have just dumped him in like that. Looks like someone pinned a note to his shirt."

They stood there.

After a moment, Olivia climbed from under her steering wheel and came to the back of the car to see what they were doing.

She walked right up to the trunk and looked in at the bound, beat-to-hell body of her husband, bent in odd ways to get the corpse into her car.

"That's Mickey. What's he doing in my trunk?" she asked.

Thorn looked at Nutsbe. "Give it a minute."

Olivia took a step closer, and Nutsbe lifted his hands to stop her, then thought better of it. She needed to see. Olivia twisted her head so she looked Mickey in the face. One side of his head was purplish-pink, where the blood had pooled after there was no more circulation.

"Oh!" She wrapped her arms around her stomach and gagged.

Both Thorn and Nutsbe lunged forward, grabbed Olivia, and dragged her away from the trunk.

Hands on her knees, her whole body heaving, Nutsbe kept his hands on her hips to steady her. He looked at Thorn. "That beating? It happened on Tuesday before I was arrested. That's not new."

"The dead is new," Thorn said.

"He was alive when he left the police station. They had an arrest warrant and couldn't find him to lock him up."

"Monday was the last time you saw him around? He was alive longer than that." Thorn leaned in. "What does the note say?" He read it aloud, "Mrs. Pauley, Your deadbeat husband—now dead husband ran up a considerable debt to us. He said you were good for it. We came by your house tonight to have a chat. First time we left a present on your doorstep. You like rats? We don't like rats. You see what happens when we come upon a rat? Remember that. Second time we came by to see if you were back, you already had company, so we left this gift in your trunk. Here's what you need to know – Mickey's being dead don't mean his debt's paid. As his wife, it's now on you to pay up. You owe us 62 large and some change. We're playing nice here by letting you have the body for closure and a funeral. Might as well pocket this note before you call the cops because nice isn't usual for us. We'll be in touch, expect us."

"Expect us," Olivia whispered. Lurching forward, she vomited near Nutsbe's shoes. He ignored it, grabbing her hair back in one hand, and wrapping his arm around her to rest a steadying hand on her hip, ready to take her weight if she were to collapse from shock.

"He hasn't been in the trunk that long," Nutsbe said under his breath to Thorn. "Iniquus was looking for bugs—not flies, mind you—tracking devices. So, they did a thorough inspection of her vehicle. That was this morning. If the note is right, they were loading the body into the trunk as the bikers were in her house. I looked into the garage. I didn't see anyone there. They must have come and gone before I got to Olivia's."

"You drove from her house to the hospital with this guy in your trunk. That's some messed up shit," Thorn said as he dialed into Iniquus.

"Iniquus Communications. Identification."

"Thorn, Panther Force. I am at the Alexandria Hospital parking lot E. I am here with Nutsbe and US Prosecutor Olivia Gladstone. We are with her car. There is a dead body in the trunk. Over."

"Copy. Body in the trunk. Is it a known identification? Over."

Nutsbe leaned toward the phone. "Nutsbe. That's Mickey Pauley, legally separated husband of Olivia Gladstone. Over."

Another gush of Olivia"s vomit came up after the dead body comment. So much for the nutritional value of the dinner he'd sent home with her. Nutsbe stepped closer and held Olivia against him.

"Don't." She coughed. "I'm getting it on your shoes."

"Puke, I can handle. It's tears that are the problem."

"Yup, better out than in," Thorn said. "Do you have any water in your car?"

"Yes," Olivia lifted a hand to point. "In the trunk." She quickly realized what she said, and she bent again as her body convulsed with dry heaves. Olivia tried to push Nutsbe away.

"Panther Force, be advised the Alexandria P.D. and their forensics lab have been notified. Are any of the Iniquus personnel involved in this situation? Do you need legal? Over."

Nutsbe leaned over again and said, "Nutsbe here. I am involved. I've been working with Sy Covington. Over."

"Copy. A message has been sent. Nutsbe will hear from Covington directly. If that call has not come through in the next fifteen minutes, apprise Communications. Over."

"Nutsbe. Wilco. Over." He adjusted his hand on Olivia's hair.

"Do you request continuous monitoring and taping? Over."

"Thorn. Thank you. We're good. Out." Thorn put the phone away. He turned to Nutsbe.

Nutsbe, using his hip to bump Beowolf away from both puke and dead body, said, "Strange idea of ‘we're good,' brother."