By the time dessert was done, the food ought to be here. The cookies I had in mind could cool while we ate dinner.
“Do we get to pick the recipe?” Clay fluttered his lashes at me. “I was thinking…”
“Kitchen sink cookies.” I rolled my eyes. “I know what you were thinking. I saw all the ingredients.”
While I indulged in my favorite form of relaxation, I attempted to draw our clues into a cohesive whole.
A text from Colby came through while I had sticky fingers, but the preview was laughing emojis.
That brief contact with her lightened my mood enough I could enjoy the simple act of baking.
The sweet and spicy aroma of extra saucy fried chicken wings overpowered my cookies, and I turned to find Clay bringing in the takeout.
Lost in thoughts and memories, I hadn’t heard the knock or his trek across the room.
“Are you all right?” Asa crowded me to reach the plates in the cabinet. “You’re pale.”
Details of the Stag case did that to me. When I gave them headspace, they left me cold and empty.
A thirst for power, a hunger for violence. A trail of bodies. His legacy of death might have been mine.
In many ways, it was, or had been. He never shook free of his addictions. I took my sobriety day by day.
“I don’t like that there are two previous sets of four missing girls, but we have this random missing girl in the mix. I don’t like that a guy who fits our profile has a missing daughter who’s not, to our knowledge, one of the victims.” I took the last pan of cookies from the oven and turned it off. “I don’t like it at all.”
“You want to go back out there tomorrow?” Clay accepted the plates from Asa. “It’s on the way.”
Empty hands freed up Asa to snag three hotel-branded water bottles for us to wash down the food.
Clay had treats on the brain instead of our usual travel staples, so we had to make do or drink milk.
“Yeah.” I followed them to the table and cleared space for us to eat. “I want a crack at him.”
I couldn’t put my finger on what bugged me, but I was rusty in the logical-deduction department. The whopper of a lie he told was more than enough to warrant a return visit, so we could use it as a platform for questioning him further.
We loaded our plates, fought over the cups of ranch dressing, then settled in to eat and take a break.
“Trust your instincts.” Asa moved the food around on his plate. “As Clay said, it won’t cost us anything.”
“This time, let’s park farther down the road.” I held my sticky fingers up to Asa. “I forgot the napkins.”
“I’ll get them.” He took the hint like a champ. “Need anything else?”
“Nope.” I smiled, polite as you please. “That’s it.”
When he turned his back, I held a finger to my lips where Clay would see, then I switched plates with Asa.
I had been careful not to eat any of mine. I just handled a couple to get saucy fingers. Then I settled in to observe Asa’s reaction. I expected him to figure it out before he sat, thanks to Clay’s glower, but Asa had napkins in hand, which he passed to me, then sat. I tried very hard not to stare, but I was curious as a cat when it came to him.
“Thanks.” I lifted a wing and took a bite. “These honey mustard ones are good.”
“I prefer the tongue torcher supreme.” Clay sniffled. “You know it’s good when your eyes water.”
“What about you?” I was totally rocking the covert vibe. “How do you like yours, Asa?”
A frown knit his brow as he brought a wing to his mouth. No. Not his mouth. His nose.
His eyes closed as he inhaled, and when he opened them, they were burnt crimson and fixed on me.
Until this exact moment, I can’t say I thought a man eating could get me hot and bothered, but Asa did it without breaking a sweat. Probably it was how he held my gaze the whole time…then licked his fingers.
“Here.” Clay pressed a bottle of icy water into my hand. “You look flushed.”
Breaking the staring contest, I smiled weakly at him. “I must have gotten a tongue torcher by mistake.”
“That must be it,” he said dryly. “I warned you about playing with fire.”
“You did.” I drank long and deep, drawn right back to Asa’s dark stare. “I think I just got burned.”
Too bad I got the feeling I wouldn’t learn a single thing from the experience.
* * *
We had ourselves a conundrum guaranteed to keep me running what-if scenarios until my brain gave up and shut off out of sheer exhaustion. It could only spin in so many circles before I got dizzy and fell down.
The Kellies informed us, after our cookies, that Mr. Olsen hadn’t been to work in four weeks.
His bosses didn’t know anything about a daughter, missing or not, and claimed he was on leave.
But, during that period, three grievances had been filed against him for aggression toward coworkers.
Meaning he had, for whatever reason, shown up to work while he was cleared for an extended vacation.
Those were the only black marks on his record with the company in over twenty years of employment.
Everyone grieved in their own way. I took no issue with Mr. Olsen snapping at people while he mourned.
Could even be that grief drove him to work to occupy his time. If so, why not report in and get paid?
Based on my glimpse of his living situation, he could use the money, so what had kept him coming back to work without compensation? Surely not the goodness of his heart. No one nine-to-fived for that.
A timer buzzed to let me know Colby would be expecting my call in five. After I raked my fingers through my hair, I did my best not to appear sleep deprived or stressed over the case as I dialed her number.
“You remembered.” Her face filled the screen. “I feel so special.”
“Smarty-pants.”
“I don’t wear pants.”
“Smarty fuzz butt.”
“Hey, now that’s rude. Do I talk about your butt fuzz?”
Heat crept up my nape when it occurred to me the guys could probably hear every word.
With that in mind, I quickly redirected our conversation. “How are things on the home front?”
“I don’t want you to freak out or anything if I tell you this.” She eyed me. “Promise?”
“I’m already freaking out hearing those words, so rip off the Band-Aid.”
“I miss you.” She held up two hands. “Not enough for you to come home or anything.”
“Aww.” I made kissy noises at her. “I miss you too.”
“Eww.” She blocked the camera with a wing. “Stop it, or I’ll puke.”
“Fine.” I waited to see her face again. “It’s weird hanging out with boys all day.”
“Clay seems cool.” She cut her eyes toward her computer screen and the battle raging there. “Asa is…”
“…also surprisingly cool.” I kept my assessment rated PG. “I haven’t worked with a daemon or a fae. He’s a twofer. Both halves seem equally cool.” I opened my mouth to say more but what came out was, “He’s got pretty hair.” Dang it, brain. You had one job. “Then again, so does Clay. Though I must confess not all wigs are created equal.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Enough about me.” I squinted at the screen. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing much right now. Most of my team is asleep.”
“This is way early for you guys.” I noticed the pile of snacks beside her keyboard. “You stayed up all night.” I clutched my chest in feigned shock. “That’s why you’ve got crust in your eyes, and your friends are MIA.”
“I don’t have crusty eyes.” She rubbed at them. “I couldn’t sleep anyway.”
“I’ll give you a one-time pass.” I got serious. “It’s unnerving any time the wards blink.”
Voice small, she asked, “It scares you too?”
“I got lucky my old boss sent Cla
y after me.” I didn’t want to get into the details, but Colby was smart. “It could have gotten ugly otherwise.” I hesitated. “We’re safer with me working for the Bureau again, but…we’ll always have to be careful.”
“Because you made a lot of powerful enemies.”
“Yes.”
“And because I’m special.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t mind being a moth,” she said after a moment. “Flying is awesome.”
A bolt of regret struck me right in the heart, cracking it open for her to see. “I’m glad.”
“It will be even cooler once you let me actually be your familiar.”
“Um…”
“You’re back at work, which means you need a partner.” She thumbed her chest. “That’s me.”
“I have Clay and Asa.”
“They’re partners, though. You don’t have one. You’re a third wheel. I would balance the team.”
“You make a compelling argument.” Smart kids, man. “Let me get through this first assignment, okay?”
Hell would freeze over, thaw out, then freeze again before I let her work this particular case.
“That’s not a no, so deal.”
“Why do I feel like I was just played?”
A weird chime noise plus a cat yowl poured from her monitor. “Hey, the guys are awake.”
“I’m guessing that means you need to go.”
“I really need this golden Anubis statue, and Jane promised to help me steal one.”
“Have fun storming the castle.” I blew her a kiss. “Call if you have trouble sleeping, okay?”
A furry hand blew me a kiss in return. “I will.”
I ended the call knowing Colby would be up until dawn and not minding one bit if she bent the rules. The last thing I wanted was for her to be lonely and paranoid while I was too far away to comfort her. Moths were nocturnal, anyway. That’s why she had a generous bedtime for her age in the first place. Better she played all night and slept all day while I was traveling than hide in her bedroom, jumping at every noise.
Holding on to the warm glow that came from talking to Colby, I attempted to fall asleep on a high note.
Ten minutes later, I gave up, rolled out of bed, and padded into the kitchen to peek in the fridge.
A carton of blueberries and a produce bag with two lemons caught my eye.
Hmm.
Guess it was going to be a blueberry scone with lemon glaze kind of morning.
12
“I would ask how you slept last night, but I can smell the answer.” Clay entered the suite. “Blueberries?”
“Blueberry scones with lemon icing,” I confirmed. “I misread the recipe and ended up with three dozen.”
One of the many dangers of midnight baking, though no one ever complained about the extras.
“That’s guaranteed to be the best news I hear today.” He kissed my cheek then shoved me. “Go sit.”
The gleam of the overhead lights off his scalp raised my eyebrows. It wasn’t often he went au naturel.
“Only because you asked so nicely.” I slogged to the table. “I couldn’t turn my brain off last night.”
A dozen scones stacked on a plate landed in front of me before Clay returned to the kitchen for milk.
His big hands juggled three full glasses with ease, and he set them at our places. “Did you talk to Colby?”
“I did.” I smiled goofily. “She told me she misses me.”
“I know how she feels.” He plopped down across from me. “You leave a big hole when you’re gone.”
“Black holes are like that,” I said sagely. “Sucking everything into them and leaving nothing behind.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” He kicked me beneath the table. “I hope it won’t be another decade until I see you after this.” He bit into his first scone and moaned. “Please never leave me again.”
It hurt to make him no promises, but I was wary of my good fortune, and it hadn’t slipped my notice that the director had yet to contact me. It left me uneasy. I couldn’t think of a reason for his silence, and that bothered me.
Unless he was hoping to trick me into believing this time, living under his auspices would be different.
Hey, I might have been born at night, but not last night.
As I washed down my second scone, I couldn’t help noticing the empty chair. “Where’s Asa?”
“Brushing his hair.” Clay snickered into his glass of milk and almost shot it out through his nose. “You did a number on him, Dollface. I told him not to sleep on it, but he fell asleep texting. I tried to help.” He sipped again, this time with a pinky held straight up. “Apparently, I have a heavy hand with a comb, and I don’t know how to brush real hair that’s rooted into a person’s actual scalp.”
Way to hit Clay right in the feels. Asa would be paying for that comment for a looong time.
Which was the only reason I didn’t press for details about who Asa might have been texting so late.
Wiping my hands clean, I tried for a neutral tone. “Does he need help?”
“I’m sure he does.” Clay narrowed his eyes on me. “And you’re not going to give it to him.”
Oh, yeah. Clay was pissed about the hair comment. No wonder he had gone bald today.
“The thought never crossed my mind.” I checked the time. “We need to get on the road soon.”
Grumbling around yet another scone, he asked, “Still antsy about Olsen?”
“Kept me up all night.” I shoved my plate aside. “I can’t put my finger on why it bothers me so much.”
That admission earned me a solid frown. “You didn’t get any weird vibes while we were there, right?”
“Not a one.” I sipped my milk to wet my throat. “It didn’t hit me until I read the Kellies’ report.”
“Must have triggered something in your subconscious.”
“Must have.” I couldn’t shake the jitters. “It feels like I’ve got ants in my pants.”
Licking his fingers clean, Clay rose and pushed back his chair. “Then let’s go, with or without Hairnado.”
“Clay,” I warned him. “Name-calling is beneath you.”
“I’m seven feet and change.” He grinned. “Most things are beneath me.”
“I’ll get my kit.” I nudged him toward his room. “You get your partner.”
I already had my wand in my pants pocket. I palmed my badge, ID, and wallet, then I was ready.
Much to my relief, and Clay’s obvious disgust, Asa emerged with his hair restored to its former glory. His part was sharp, his braids were neat, and they gleamed, still damp, under the light.
As he walked past, I breathed in the scents of tobacco…and green apple.
Rolling my lips in to keep from commenting, I handed him a paper towel I’d loaded with four scones earlier, before Clay polished off the full three dozen. The man was a bottomless pit.
Asa brought them to his nose and inhaled. “You baked these?”
“I did.” I tilted my head, mining for an explanation for the game we played. “How could you tell?”
Perhaps sensing my angle, he took his sweet time in answering. “They smell like you.”
“Hmm.” I appeared to consider that. “Does it bother you?”
Without breaking eye contact, which I was learning was a big thing with him, he selected a scone and bit it clear in half. The way he savored it gave me workplace-inappropriate chills, and I was drawn to the flex of his throat when he swallowed, which left me questioning my sanity.
“No,” he rasped when he was done. “It doesn’t bother me at all.”
“Yeah, well, this bothers me.” Clay pointed at Asa and then at me. “Whatever this is, stop it.”
Asa didn’t look away from me when he said, “It’s too late for that.”
“Um.” I faced a sudden need to swallow, dare I say gulp. “Explain too late for me?”
Neither one enlightened me, which made me want to
hex them with warts on their unmentionables.
Goddess bless, this was sad. Warts? Really? I truly had lost my touch.
We gathered our equipment, loaded into the SUV, and set out for a visit to Mr. Olsen.
Without Asa causing inconvenient flutters in my stomach, I had room for dread to spread its wings.
* * *
The front door hadn’t been repaired or replaced. That was our first hint Mr. Olsen had flown the coop.
The moment we learned he lied about filing a missing persons report, we should have doubled back.
Final confirmation from the Kellies hit my inbox around five this morning, but we waited until sunrise.
The holdout had been the troll-ruling body itself, the agency a troll in a tricky situation, like a foster gone missing, would most likely approach for help. The clerics had to be convinced to share information regarding a foster with outsiders through a donation to their order. Eventually, they verified the girl existed, and who was responsible for her, but they hadn’t been made aware she had gone missing.
We had kicked a hornets’ nest in bringing the situation to their attention. I wasn’t sorry it would be passed upline to the director. I was only sorry the director wasn’t allergic to hornet stings.
Ever the optimist, Clay offered, “Maybe Olsen stayed in a hotel last night?”
“Maybe,” I allowed for Clay’s sake. “Let’s take him up on his open-door invitation.”
“There is no door,” Asa said wryly. “Are you sure we ought to intrude?”
“Yes.” I exited the vehicle, before he tried his hand at changing my mind, and went still. “Oh crap.”
The smell hit me and woke that dark part lurking on the periphery of my self-control.
“We’ve got bodies.” I had no doubt they smelled it too. “Black magic?”
Asa and Clay exited the SUV and flanked me while I read the area from a safe distance.
“Yes,” Asa confirmed. “It’s quite ripe.”
As much as I wanted to cringe from a descriptor that might apply to me too, I forced my shoulders back. I was who I was, and there was no changing that. His opinion of me couldn’t matter. Not now. Not here.
Drawing my wand, I approached the rusting travel trailer, the stench more potent as we neared it.
Black Hat, White Witch Page 13