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“My father died here.”
I remember what he’d said upon arriving. “You said Mahoney killed him.”
“Because he did.”
“Mahoney says your dad shot him to death, so one of you is lying.”
“Nope. Both statements are true.” Brayden let go of the bike, which remained upright despite no kickstand. He put his hand on the lowered anvil of the compacter. “My dad parked the car with Mahoney’s body in the compacter. Somehow, he got caught inside the vehicle when the machinery turned on. “
“Oh, fuck.” I glanced at the wide crack through which rusty, crunchy metal and possibly other things peeked.
“Fuck is right. I knew I shouldn’t have left him alone. My gut said something was wrong. But while Dad took care of the body, I got rid of the bike. On my way back, I heard the screams. It was too late by the time I reached him.” Brayden’s lips turned down.
“The fuck is lying,” Mahoney insisted. “I remember what happened. He was the one who killed Ginny and framed my old gang. Daddy Walker discovered the truth, so Brayden got rid of him, too.”
I glanced from Mahoney to Brayden. Who to believe? Who lied?
“Did you kill your father?” A blunt query to catch Brayden’s reaction.
Instant suspicion. “Why would you ask that?” His expression cleared. “He’s talking to you right now, isn’t he?”
“He says he was being framed. By you. That you’re a killer. Your father found out, and you silenced him.”
“Wow, now there’s a web of lies.”
“Did you?”
“How can you ask that?” Brayden shook his head, and his shoulders slumped. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. From the sounds of it, he always did have a way with women.”
In that moment, I became uncertain again. Brayden might be many things, but a murderer?
I eyed his strange attire. “You still haven’t said why you’re here and what you’re doing with the bike.”
“I’m here because Mahoney’s spirit is still killing people.” Brayden turned from the compacter to gesture to the bike. “I’m going to stop it once and for all.”
“A ghost has no body. How can it kill?”
“By using someone else’s hands.” Brayden glanced at mine. “Tell me, Allie, how long have you been having blackouts?”
CHAPTER27
The insinuationalmost put me on my ass. “I’m not a killer.”
“I know you’re not. It’s his fault.” He glared at the motorcycle. “Once he’s gone, you’ll be fine.”
“I…” I actually choked on what to say next because the idea of being possessed and murdering folks horrified.
Mahoney sputtered. “He’s so fucking full of shit. Still trying to blame other people for his crimes.”
I glanced at the man only I could see. “Swear. Swear to me you’re the innocent guy here.”
“Fucking right, I am. Your detective is a goddamned psycho.”
That was all I needed to know. My gut said Mahoney spoke the truth. Brayden might sound convincing, but then again, being a psychopath meant that he believed every word he uttered.
Brayden half turned from me to slam the button that started the compactor. The grinding of metal as it moved after more than a decade proved jarring. It also hid my approach.
Before I could swing, a smell hit me, along with a wail. One long trapped that only now could escape. As the compactor retracted, I stared at the flattened carcass of a car which supposedly held two bodies.
