by Noel Cash
Kix shoved a strand of hair behind her ear but didn’t turn to face me. “How do we work?”
I took her hesitation as encouragement. “You tell me.”
We’d danced around the question, but I’d not given up. I still had hope that she’d push her ex-lover out of her life and see me in a better light.
The question remained unanswered.
Max Brady’s voice boomed outside the door. A moment later, he pushed into the room.
Chapter Ten
Brady stopped when he saw me. “Harper,” he said with a nod. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
What could I say? I’m stalking Kix?
“Just checking in on Kix. She told me she’s leaving as soon as her brother arrives.” Hugh, officially H.W. Burrowes at work, was Brady’s boss.
“He told me. That’s why I’m here.” His booming voice rattled the water goblet on the bedside table.
Why would Hugh send Brady? “I can give her a ride if she doesn’t mind.” Which she probably would.
“She’s not going to his house,” Brady continued. “We’re taking her into protective custody.”
“What?” Kix and I said in unison.
My heart rate kicked up, and I glanced at her. She looked as perplexed as I felt. “Is there a threat?”
“What’s wrong?” Kix’s face blanched. She moved to the bed and sat.
I rushed to her and touched her shoulder. “Kix?”
She waved me away. “Just a bit dizzy.” She took a deep breath, then another before turning to Brady. “What’s happened?”
He pulled the chair around and sat, then lowered his voice, no longer blustering. “Do you remember another woman at The Mythic Path named Becky Turner?”
Her eyes wide, she nodded. “She’s a non-practicing witch. She thought it might be fun to know more about that side of her.”
“Did you see her Monday? Have a cup of coffee afterward? Maybe walk out with her? It’s only natural, two women watching out for each other in a dicey part of town.”
I didn’t like where this conversation headed.
Kix scrunched up her nose and closed her eyes for a second. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember. Has something happened to her?”
Something that caused M.I.C.U. to put Kix into protective custody?
“Her roommate reported her missing Tuesday morning. She never returned from The Mythic Path.”
Kix put a shaking hand to her mouth. She cleared her throat and rasped, “Do you think the same person who hurt me did something to her?”
Brady leaned forward, a gentle bear compared to the man who’d walked into the room moments earlier. “We suspect so. Yesterday, the Coast Guard pulled a body out of Lake Michigan. We’ve tentatively identified her as Becky Turner.”
Kix moaned and hugged herself. “How is that possible? The Mythic Path isn’t close to the lake.”
I laid a hand on her shoulder, my mind churning with reasons.
“We don’t know,” Brady continued. “Someone may have waylaid her on the way home, a carjacking that went wrong. Or she ran into car problems.”
“Or someone killed her in front of me, knocked me out, then transported her body to the lake, hoping it wouldn’t surface until spring, when it thawed,” Kix said, her body shaking under my touch.
Brady nodded. “We’re not ruling out anything, which is why you need to go underground until we find whoever is responsible.”
“I must have seen something suspicious.” Kix turned her head to look at me. Her eyes held anguish I’d not seen in anyone in years.
I sat on the bed next to her. “There may be a simple explanation about her death.”
Brady dashed away our hopes. “I’m afraid not,” he said, shaking his head. “She’d been shot.”
Kix cried out and sagged against me. My arm went around her, and I stroked her hair as my heart convulsed at her pain.
“What do you know? What can you share?” I asked Brady. I no longer worked ad-hoc for M.I.C.U., but I hoped my past association might be worth a little fact sharing.
Brady rubbed his five o’clock shadow. “We’re waiting for the autopsy results, but preliminary speculation is she died Monday evening. We’re checking security cameras along the routes the killer might have taken, but the storm blew snow into more than half of them. Unless we come up with an eyewitness, we’re losing ground on this one.” He stared at Kix, the best bet he had to a prime witness.
She straightened and pulled away. I reached for a tissue box on the bed stand and handed it to her. After she’d wiped at her tears, she looked at Brady.
“I don’t remember anything. I wish I could. Becky didn’t deserve to die that way. No one does. How can I help if I don’t know what happened?”
Brady folded his hands together, hunching forward. “Would you be willing to have one of our witches use a memory spell on you? We can’t guarantee it will work, but—”
“Whatever it takes.” Kix nodded. She swiped at her cheeks. “Hypnosis. Spells. Whatever you need to do.”
Brady nodded then stood. “I’ll arrange someone to come to the safe house.”
“Safe house? I can’t go to Hugh’s?” Panic ran through her voice.
“No, we don’t want you or anyone in the area endangered. We have a couple of places we’ve used in the past. I’ve asked a M.I.C.U. agent, a female sergeant from Chicago, to fly in and stay with you 24/7. We’ll have other agents in the house as well.”
“I don’t like this,” she muttered. “I don’t like this at all.”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” I said, projecting an assurance I didn’t feel. “They’re doing this as a precaution.”
Kix stood, her arm cutting through the air. “For how long? How long do I put my life on hold? I’ve already wasted three days with this.” She gestured to her bruise.
“We’ll get him,” Brady said in a voice that didn’t invite argument. “We’re looking at Miss Turner’s background as well as interviewing those in her life and with whom she came in contact with the last week or so. We’ll find the killer.”
Kix stared at him her anger not dissipated. Her chin lifted in defiance. “No.”
Brady frowned. “No what?”
“No to hiding away like a coward. I’m not going to a safe house. Forget it.”
Brady took a step forward. “Now, Kix—”
She held up a hand. “I know you’re my captain at work, but outside of Myth’s doors, you have no say about what I do. I’m not running from a danger that might not be there, and if it is, this time I’ll be more aware of my surroundings. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”
Brady watched her, but he, as well as I, saw her stubbornness. While I wanted her bricked up in a distant location, she wouldn’t be the Kix I knew if she didn’t face her fears.
Brady shook his head. “For the record, I think you’re making a mistake, but as you said, I can’t control what you do.” He shook his head again and left.
Kix held her composure until the door closed, then she deflated, looking around the room as if getting her bearings. Her voice shook as she said, “Rory, can you get my suitcase?”
I sprang for the hot pink Vuitton bag that probably cost more than a third-world country’s monthly budget. “Do you have everything in it you need?”
She nodded. “Everything but my self-confidence. Rory, I’m scared.”
“Nothing’s going to happen.” I ached to hold her close and forced myself to remember she didn’t need my attention when her life boiled over with stress. We’d already had one minor rift, I wasn’t about to start another.
“I thought you believed in M.I.C.U.?”
She shook her head, then stopped, letting out a small moan and holding her head. “Damned dizziness.”
I waited while she took measured breaths. Her eyes, full of worry, met mine. “We’re talking murder now. Murder. Somewhere in West Haven, a killer is roaming around, and I may be next on his hit list.
”
“You can’t think about it. Brady will find him, and you’ll be able to go on with your life.”
“What if he can’t?” Her voice trembled.
I didn’t like hearing her overwhelming belief in M.I.C.U. deflate like an old party balloon. Why had she chosen to not go to the safe house if she didn’t believe in their competence?
She lifted her chin and looked at me. “Can you do anything to help?”
I touched her arm. “Did you think I’d not get involved? Haven’t I proven otherwise?”
“At least I’ll be able to help once I get over this damned dizziness,” she said, showing some of her old spunk.
“Without you, I’m lost.” My life in the last six months had circled in a perpetual holding pattern.
Unaware of my inner turmoil, she said, “What did you find out about Delanna?”
“She makes a mean tart,” I said, trying for levity. “Do you think anyone in your class saw something?”
Kix frowned. “Maybe. I’m sure they questioned them.”
If I’d stayed at Myth, I’d have access to M.I.C.U.’s files, but I’d burned that boat.
“How well do you know the others?”
She rubbed her hand along the edge of her bruise. “Not well. We’ve met twice. Everyone stayed in their own space.”
“Then you attended class on Monday? Your mugging happened afterward?”
“I guess so. Why?”
“No one knew how long you laid in the storm before someone found you.” I hated the thought of her lying alone, hurt, and forgotten.
“Thank the Gods someone did. I would have frozen to death.” She shuddered and hugged herself.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “Really okay?”
Her chin lifted. “I’m not going to let whatever happened affect me. Kix Burrowes won’t have PTSD.”
“Get help if you do.” I hadn’t, but PTSD didn’t exist when my father and brother died as a result of my actions. Back then, they called it the blues, or moodiness. Treatment consisted of “forget about it,” “straighten up,” and “get on with life”. No analysis, treatment centers, or group therapy.
Kix read my lingering guilt because she nodded. “I will. Thanks. You’re a good friend.”
Great. Good friend. The person I didn’t want to be in her life, but I’d take what I could and fight for the rest later.
I wheeled her suitcase toward the door. “We’ll do whatever we can to catch this guy.”
She was the only person in the world who could pull me back into Myth’s orbit.
“Where will you stay?” I asked, half-hoping she’d ask to stay with me.
Pathetic, Harper, so pathetic.
“Don’t worry about it.” Kix patted my arm as she brushed past me.
“Kix, don’t go home.”
She tucked her hair behind an ear then reached for her suitcase. “Give me some credit.”
“I do. Of course. I don’t want to see you hurt.” Did she not see my feelings plastered all over the place?
“I don’t either. Look, I’ll be fine. If Hugh doesn’t want me, which is obvious from him passing the baton to the Captain, then there are other places, safe places, I can stay.” Her earlier vulnerability had vanished.
“Can I drive you?”
She shook her head, dismissing my gesture. “You have enough to do. I’ll call you once I’m settled, and we can plan our next step.”
“Catching the bad guy.”
She sketched a salute. “Catching the bad guy. Thanks, Rory, for all you’ve done. I’ll call tomorrow.”
My heart in my throat, I watched her walk away.
Alone, I pushed open the door to her room and pulled out my phone. After three rings, the person on the other end answered.
“Hello, Hugh? It’s Rory Harper. We need to talk.”
Chapter Eleven
We met at Genie in a Bottle, a sports bar close to Myth, Inc. It wasn’t my first choice, but we both knew its location, and I didn’t want to chase him across the city. I ordered a Guinness, and, because of the late hour, a meatball sub and fries. I needed comfort food after the day I’d experienced.
The happy hour bunch had departed and the evening crowd hadn’t filled the bar yet, which suited me fine. I didn’t want to run into any of my old colleagues, especially Jack Trades. I’d heard the M.I.C.U. lieutenant had returned to work after a six-month leave of absence. As he blamed me for the death of his wife and unborn child, avoidance seemed the best strategy.
The drink had arrived but not the food when Hugh hailed me and pulled up a chair at my table. He looked hurried, anxious, and impatient. I’d probably diverted him from a game of corporate chess, where he pulled strings on his puppet managers and fired employees one day short of their retirement date.
“Harper,” he said and signaled for a waitress.
Calling me by my last name did not bode well. Harper was an ex-employee, a thorn in his side. Rory was the man he wanted to go with him to the hospital when his sister was the victim of a mugger. And a possible witness to a murder.
“Hugh.” I raised my glass to him.
He glanced around the bar as if on the prowl for those he could impress. On second thought, this was the wrong crowd. He’d have better luck at his country club.
“I came from seeing Kix,” I said as a warning. “She refused witness protection.”
“Brady called me.” He loosened the cashmere scarf around his neck. “How is she?”
I leaned back, determined not to punch him. “That’s the first item we need to discuss, Hugh. Why pull a no-show and not come to her room?”
His head tipped to one side. “What? Why would I? Brady had the situation under control.”
If I had an empty glass, I would have chucked the pint at him. “The ‘situation’ is your sister, and she was scared out of her mind there might be a killer looking for her.”
“Kix doesn’t scare easily.” He picked up the card advertising the day’s specials and studied it.
I snatched it from his hand. “She did, and she needed her big brother there to offer some comfort.”
Hugh froze, his eyes meeting mine for the first time. I expected him to cock his fist and plant one on my jaw. Instead, he looked away. “I didn’t think she’d want me there.”
I let out a breath. “Why wouldn’t she? You had planned on taking her home. What’s the difference?”
The waitress appeared and gave him a thirty-second window to create an excuse. After he ordered Chivas, he sat back and regarded me. “Ours hasn’t always been a close relationship. We have brunch once a month so I can report back to my parents on her wellbeing. She moved here for Gods know what reason, but I found her a job. M.I.C.U. took her in at my suggestion, but she’s proven her skills so well they’ve hired her permanently. Until Monday night, we hadn’t seen each other in two weeks.”
“Yet you flew to her side when the hospital called, and you seemed concerned. Or was that an act?” Why had he called me? Had he needed a buffer?
He picked up the salt shaker and slid it along the table, making random circles. “Not an act. I care for her. She’s my little sister, after all. But sometimes, face-to-face, well, it’s awkward.”
“She needs you in her life.” I should talk, with Caro almost four thousand miles away in Liverpool and us not talking for almost a year.
“Yes, well—”
“Yes, well, nothing, Hugh. Give her a call and ask how she’s doing. Stop making excuses.”
My food and his drink arrived, cutting off my rant. I ordered another beer, and Hugh asked for a burger. I didn’t say anything about Margo making a hot meal for him when he returned home.
The Burrowes clan continued to baffle me. I knew exactly why she’d moved to West Haven—to pushed herself to make an impression with him. Hugh treated her like a toy on a shelf, taking her down whenever he remembered her presence.
I need to call Caro soon. Did Ma tell her about David’s stroke?
I wiped my mouth on a napkin and peered across at Hugh.
“Why isn’t Kix a suspect in Becky Turner’s murder?” I asked, voicing a question I hadn’t had time to ask Max Brady.
Hugh set his whisky on the table. “She’s a prime suspect, isn’t she? She has a permit to carry, knows the victim, may have been the last to see her, and her gun is missing? Who’s saying she didn’t shoot Miss Turner, throw the gun away, and knock herself in the head?”
“All things M.I.C.U. must have thought.” I didn’t give them much credit, but the dots seemed simple enough to connect.
Hugh spread his hands wide. “The coroner found the bullet in the victim. It’s a different caliber than what Kix carries.”
I leaned forward. “She owns more than one gun?”
He nodded. “Which the prosecutor knows. He requested a warrant to search her apartment and found all but the Sig 9mm she carries.”
Brady hadn’t shared this intel. I took a gamble my earlier lecture had triggered Hugh’s protective side and he’d want me fully involved.
“What else? Who are you looking at?”
Hugh sipped on his whisky. “Everyone at The Mythic Path, her roommate, family, friends, and co-workers. The usual suspects.”
I spun the wheel of fortune a little harder. “No one has caught your eye?”
He stared hard at me but didn’t stop revealing M.I.C.U.’s investigation. “The students at The Mythic Path class. They were the last to see Miss Turner alive.”
Which is why I’m going there tomorrow night. Someone must have seen something.
“We’re checking CCTV cameras as well, but the storm obscured most of the footage.”
“The grunt work has to be done.” I took another bite of my sub.
Hugh picked up the salt shaker again and tossed it between his hands. “Rory, I came to you once before and asked for a favor. You succeeded then, and I hope you can do the same now.”
I lowered my sandwich. “We’re not talking about following your wife, are we? I never finished tailing her.”