All of the Voices by Bailey Bradford (little red riding hood read aloud txt) 📗

for the aunt he’d never visited, but Shelly had assured him the story was true, which made Matt reconsider his opinion of the man.

Well, that and Sheriff Stenley’s accounting of his time spent with Carlin. Stenley seemed to like the guy, and Matt found it hard to believe Mrs. Hawkins’ nephew could be the ass Matt had built him up to be in his mind, not if Stenley liked him. Matt respected his boss’s opinion and knew him to be a good judge of character.

Yesterday Carlin had left a card with his cell number on it and told Stenley he’d like to apologize to Matt and talk to him about Mrs. Hawkins. Matt hadn’t bothered to call, thinking it’d be better to just show up, but he hadn’t counted on memories of the last time he’d been at the motel. All he’d intended to do that day was check up on Stenley’s former Houston PD partner, Rich Montoya. Instead, Matt had walked into a trap set by James McAlister, the man who’d killed Conner years earlier when Conner had been Stenley’s lover. McAlister had very nearly killed Matt in one of the motel rooms, and Rich… God, what the sadistic bastard had done to him! Matt had seen Rich in the hospital, his body covered in white bandages where McAlister had cut him. There’d been a particularly vicious gash on the side of Rich’s face—

Those memories had Matt’s brow beaded with sweat and his palms clammy. His breath rasped noisily in the confines of the vehicle. “It’s not even the same freaking room!”

It didn’t matter, he couldn’t make himself get out, not when he could feel the knife slicing into him again, feel the shock and fear and desperation all over again. He’d laid there curled on the floor, blood pooling at his side and under him, frantic to live, but his own sense of self-preservation wasn’t so great that he’d forgotten the mad man who’d stabbed him had taken Rich Montoya to torture. Matt had managed to call Stenley and tell him McAlister had Rich, which was what McAlister had told Matt to do. All Matt and Rich had been to McAlister was bait—he’d wanted Stenley, wanted to possess him in every way. He’d very nearly gotten his wish. It’d taken bullets from three men—Severo included—to end McAlister’s life before he killed both Stenley and Rich. By then Matt had been on his way to the hospital, in shock from the loss of blood and the damage done by McAlister’s knife.

A tap on the driver’s window sent Matt’s heart skittering in his chest. He cursed and looked at the blond man through the glass. Carlin tapped the window again and Matt took a steadying breath as he fingered the window switch. A sense of calm seeped into him as he caught a hint of the scent of cookies.

Matt couldn’t bring himself to be freaked out over what Severo suspected was Mrs. Hawkins’ lingering presence, not when it soothed him like she—if it was really her—always had when she’d been alive and he’d felt so knotted up inside.

Carlin tapped a third time, his smile slipping. Matt lowered the window. “Sorry. I was kind of lost in my head,” he said as soon as he thought the window was low enough for Carlin to hear. “Do you smell something, kind of like cookies, maybe?”

Carlin’s mouth dropped open and he looked at Matt as if he were nuts. “Cookies? Why would I smell…?” He sniffed and frowned. “Is this like a game, I’m supposed to guess what kind of cookies you have with you or something? I have to tell you I’m not big on sweets, but there’s, I don’t know, a hint of maybe cinnamon, and vanilla?”

That answered a couple of questions. He wasn’t the only one Mrs. Hawkins was exposing herself to, and he wasn’t hallucinating. He grinned as Carlin frowned at him. Maybe the man could help him clear up another question that had been weighing heavily on Matt’s mind.

“Do I get a cookie if I got it right?”

Matt shook his head. “I don’t have any, and even if I did, you said you don’t like sweets.”

Carlin planted one hand on a narrow hip and arched an eyebrow. “Whatever that scent is, it’s making my mouth water, so I’m not as averse to something sweet as I’d thought. But since you don’t have cookies, care to tell me why you even asked?”

Not yet, maybe not ever, depending on how open minded Carlin was. Time to divert. “Sheriff Stenley said you wanted to talk to me?”

Carlin narrowed his eyes, a silent warning that he wasn’t fooled by Matt’s attempt to change the subject. “I’m an attorney, I know all about diverting people away from subjects you don’t want them to broach. However, given the fact I was a colossal jackass to you when we met, I’ll drop it—for now.”

He stepped back and tugged at the door handle. “But I would much rather talk inside. Would you please come with me? I’d like to apologize without feeling as if the whole town is watching the show.”

Matt glanced around and didn’t see another person, but that didn’t mean anything here in McKinton. People knew your business before you did, it seemed. But Matt wasn’t sure he was up to going into the motel room just yet.

“How ‘bout you change into something other than a fancy suit and we go out to your aunt’s place? I still need to swing by there and feed the chickens.” On second thought, maybe taking Carlin with him was a mistake. The blond would probably laugh his ass off when that rooster attacked Matt again.

Carlin glanced away, looking at something off to his side. “I’m not sure if… Okay.” He turned back to Matt. “Give me five minutes to change. Would you like to come in and wait?”

Matt couldn’t repress a shudder any more than he could tamp down the goosebumps that prickled his skin. “I’d prefer