“Where are we going?”
“Lomita,” he said. “To Brad’s apartment. Maybe we’ll find something to connect Brad and his killer.”
My stomach tensed. I wasn’t at all sure I wanted to be in his apartment—to feel whatever vestiges of Brad were still there, all the while knowing he’d never return. It was too sad.
Diego flipped on the blinker and immediately traffic rearranged itself.
“His father will meet us there.”
6
Diego put his hand out. “Mr. Keel, I’m Diego Adair. I worked with Brad at Danyon and Peet. He was a good guy.”
We stood on the small, concrete walkway in front of Brad’s second-floor apartment. The sorrow and confusion coming off Brad’s father was so strong it made my eyes water.
When the men shook hands, I felt a small jolt of magic pass from one to the other and felt Brad’s father let loose a bit of his pain.
“Tyron apologizes for not being here himself,” Diego said. “He was called out of town. He wants you to know we’re doing everything we can to find whoever did this.”
Mr. Keel nodded his thanks. “You were there when they found him?”
Diego glanced toward me. “This is my colleague, Oona Goodlight. She was also at the practice that morning.”
He looked me up and down. Even today there are people who don’t realize women play hockey.
“You knew my son?”
I gently probed his thoughts. He hoped I’d been Brad’s girlfriend—that his son had had someone special in his life. I hated to disappoint him.
“Slightly,” I said. “He’d skated with my team a few times. Great guy. Good attitude. Terrific player. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Mr. Keel stared at my face. He so wanted Brad to have had a girlfriend.
He shook himself out of his unhappy thoughts, dug in his pocket, and held out a key.
“I’m having dinner with Tyron next Thursday,” he said. “He can return the key then.”
Diego took the key almost reverentially. It didn’t take a psychic to see Mr. Keel appreciated that, that he trusted us to be respectful of Brad’s things, of his memory.
I probed the man a little more, asking if he had any suspicions about who had harmed his son. He didn’t. He was mystified as to why anyone would hurt Brad, which somehow made it worse for him.
Mr. Keel drew in a deep, noisy breath and held it a moment, then let it out. “I’ll leave you to it then.”
“Thank you,” Diego said. “We won’t disturb anything.”
Mr. Keel nodded and walked away as if the physical weight of Brad’s body weighed down his shoulders.
Diego unlocked the door and held it open for me.
I stepped into the living room and immediately stepped back. My stomach churned. My ears rang. Vertigo made the room swim as the knowledge hit. I grabbed hold of Diego’s arm to keep myself from falling.
“Do you want to go outside for a minute?” he said. “Get some air?”
I tried to answer but the words wedged in my throat. I shook my head.
Diego slowly walked me deeper into Brad’s living room and waited until my head had cleared enough for me to do my work.
It looked pretty much like I’d expect for a single guy in his twenties—decent couch, nice coffee table, huge TV screen. The one unique thing was a long shelf behind the sofa jam-packed with trophies.
I swallowed hard and found my voice. “The killer was here. He picked Brad up and they drove to the rink together.”
“Makes sense,” Diego said. “His car wasn’t at the mall. Can you see the killer?”
I shook my head.
“You said you’d caught his signature,” Diego said. “Can you follow his trail from here?”
I shook my head again. “It would lead me to the rink. They might have made a stop or something on the way, but we already know the rink is where they wound up.”
“Can we go there, and have you follow it?”
I shook my head one more time. “I can’t follow a trail that old.”
Anger roiled around inside me—at Brad’s senseless death, at it being someone he liked and trusted who’d killed him.
My voice hardened. “If I run into the killer again, I’ll know it no matter how he looks. I won’t let him get away a second time.”
Diego lowered his chin and tilted his head.
“What?” I said.
“I didn’t picture you as such a determined hunter.”
“You hardly know me,” I snapped. “I may be full of surprises.”
“No doubt.” He gazed at me steadily a moment, then shrugged. “Magic isn’t always perfect either.”
I gave him a wide-eyed look. “Really, wizard? I’m so disappointed.”
There was no reason for me to lash out at him. I knew it was spillover anger from Brad’s senseless murder and me being affected by the killer’s rage, but it didn’t quiet my need to strike at someone, anyone.
He looked stunned a moment, and then it was gone.
“Sorry,” I said, and meant it. “Misplaced anger.”
He ran his hand down the side of my arm. Just once and lightly Not so much as too seem aggressive—just enough to reestablish a connection between us, a reminder that we were on the same side and there for the same reason.
“Okay,” he said. “Back to work. What else do you get from the apartment?”
I took a deep breath and let it out, to center myself, and started talking as the impressions flowed to me.
“Brad wasn’t a happy soul. Felt he’d let people down. He was lonely. Felt he had acquaintances, not friends.”
I saw Diego nod to that. He’d worked with Brad, but they hadn’t become friends. That seemed to be the way it went for Brad.
“He did have a couple of close guy friends,” I said, “and some women friends. Always friends, never girlfriends. Or if they were girlfriends, it didn’t last for long. He didn’t know what was wrong with him that women didn’t find him worthy of love.”
I stopped talking and wiped at the tears threatening behind my eyes. What a sad life—to believe others found you unworthy of love.
“But he had hockey,” I said. “He was good at it. Playing silver level and had already been told he was going to be moved up to gold.”
I walked over and picked up one of the many trophies. It felt almost electric in my hands, infused with Brad’s happiness and pride. He’d kept them dusted, clean.
I turned back and looked at Diego. “Why would anyone want to kill this guy?”
“You tell me,” he said.
That’s why I was there, wasn’t it? To help catch the killer but to figure out why as well. Brad’s family needed an explanation—some reason behind it, even if that reason didn’t make sense to anyone but the murderer.
“I don’t know why yet,” I said. “When we catch the killer, he might tell us, or I might feel it. It’s possible we’ll never know.”
I gritted my teeth. It wasn’t acceptable to me that we never know why.
I put the trophy down and walked around the apartment—living room, kitchen, one bedroom, and small bath. Bed not made, dirty clothes on the floor, dishes washed though and in the drain board.
A jolt of energy, like a small electric spark, ran through me.
“Burgundy Camry,” I said, as more knowledge rushed in. “A three in the license plate. Brad put his skates and stick in the trunk next to the killer’s. They were laughing. Brad was a little drunk. More than a little stoned.”
“Can you see the rest of the license plate?”
“No. Just the three.” I pressed my lips together, thinking. “When I saw the killer, he drove a Tahoe. Why would he pick up Brad in a Camry?”
“People can have more than one car,” Diego said.
“Yeah,” I said, but something didn’t seem right about that.
I stood a while longer listening, looking, feeling but I didn’t get anything more.
“I think I’m d
one,” I said.
Diego stood thinking a moment. “If you’d like, I can push a little magic into you. It might help you see more.”
My stomach knotted. I’ve lived around magic all my life, but the idea of someone infusing me with theirs gave me the heebie-jeebies. He’d done it already with the hearing thing at the rink, and I’d watch him give a little to Brad’s father, but still—
But when I thought of Brad’s father, the look on his face as he opened the door to his son’s apartment.
I took a deep breath. “Okay.”
He stepped toward me. “Just relax. It won’t hurt, I promise. You might even like it.”
“Hmmm,” I said, and tried hard to relax when he put his arms around me and breathed slowly in my direction.
Energy rushed through me. If I’d been on the street, I could have run a marathon.
“The killer lives in north Redondo Beach,” I said, the words almost tumbling over themselves trying to get out. “A white house. There’s a liquor store within walking distance.”
“Would you know the house if you saw it?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe.” I thought about it further. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Okay,” he said. “That’s good. We can start looking for burgundy Camrys and blue SUVs in front of white houses in north Redondo.”
I stared at him. That seemed a fool’s errand. There must be dozens of white houses with burgundy Camrys or dark blue SUVs parked out front or in the driveway.
My face must have said what I was thinking.
“Investigating can be very unglamorous,” he said.
I gazed into his face and smiled. A new feeling was filling me. I swear I felt this weird connection to him, almost like we’d just had sex—that afterglow feeling. I wanted to snuggle against him, maybe kiss his neck.
He was still smiling. “Sorry. It’s rare but it happens sometimes when I push magic into someone—it’s like giving a little of myself into the other person. Most people don’t notice. Brad’s father didn’t. You being both psychic and naturally sensitive to magic anyway, it’s not too surprising it hit you strongly.”
I wanted to glare at him, but all I could do was grin with that look that a former boyfriend had called ‘the freshly fucked smile.’ I sent my feelers into Diego’s mind. He was very clearly imagining what it would be like to get me in bed.
That broke the spell.
“Dream on, wizard.” I looked over my shoulder at him as I headed for the door. “Rule number one: never play where you get paid. I’ll meet you at the car.”
7
Diego was talking on his cell phone as he walked toward his Audi. I stood next to the passenger door. He took the key fob out of his pocket and beeped both doors open. I slid in on the passenger side, but he stayed outside, talking low on the phone. He listened, nodded, and spoke a little more, then pressed the phone off.
“We need to meet with another client in,” he glanced at his watch, “fifteen minutes.”
I resisted the urge to say, “Whatcha mean we?” I’d agreed to help find Brad’s killer. I hadn’t agreed to be part of a we meeting with random clients. Everything I’d felt in Brad’s apartment was still roiling through me. I needed some time alone to sort it out.
“Can you drop me home on your way?”
Diego gave me a glance as he started the engine, his mind clearly not on me or my wants at the moment. “Wrong direction. Sorry. It’s going to be tight making it on time as it is.”
I tsked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, annoyed I would be stuck sitting in the car while he met with someone. I had my phone though. As long as I had my phone, there was always something to occupy my time. I could make progress on the book I was reading. My annoyance slid away as I thought about getting back to the book I was enjoying. Double bonus—reading would help me forget about meeting Mr. Keel, and about Brad and everything I’d felt in his apartment.
We drove into El Segundo, which inevitably made me think about hockey, as there was a rink here.
“Do you ever play at Toyota Center?” I asked to make conversation since we’d pretty much said nothing to each other since leaving Brad’s apartment. I’d made my feelings known about where his thoughts had wandered, but if we were going to finish this search together, we needed to be at least polite and talk to each other.
He nodded. “Wednesdays.”
“Like it?”
“Sure,” he said. “Great ice. Good locker rooms.”
I let the conversation go fallow again. Diego obviously had things on his mind. I would have been happy for the distraction of talk, but courtesy kept me quiet.
We passed the Chevron refinery and Diego turned onto a residential street.
“I could really use your talents here,” he said as he slowed the car and eased it to a stop next to the curb. “I know you only agreed to help find Brad’s killer, but this woman and her daughter are convinced a witch is trying to harm them. If you’d come in and see what you pick up, I’d appreciate it.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. I’d had enough of feeling other people’s pain and anguish for one day. I wasn’t much up for round two.
“I could give you another little shot of magic if you like,” he said. “Make it easier to figure out what’s really going on here.”
“No, thanks.”
I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake off the sad energy I’d brought with me from Brad’s apartment. It worked—some.
“I’ll come in and take a quick look around,” I said. “Just promise that I can walk out when I want, whether you’re ready to go or not.”
He nodded.
“Okay, then,” I said. “Just long enough to get a read and then I’m out of there.”
“Thanks.”
I waved his thanks off with a flick of my hand. I wasn’t doing it solely for him. I’d also agreed for the woman and child’s sakes. And for my own. Maybe helping this woman would help me dissolve the sad, dark fog in my brain.
Diego was good with the woman and her ten-year-old daughter. He kept his voice low and calm, never interrupted, and was patient as the woman and girl told their stories.
It didn’t hurt that Diego was good-looking and projected a complete professional vibe in his navy suit, light blue shirt, and burgundy tie. That was a thing—attractive, well-dressed people were more instantly and generally trusted than their less attractive or more sloppily dressed counterparts. Diego made the whole package work for him
My jeans, T-shirt, and red high-tops weren’t quite as inspiring, but in a weird way my look was a good contrast to his, helping the woman feel more at ease than if I’d also been wearing office formal. Yin and yang. A balance struck.
I felt around the room. My shoulders tightened. Tension vibrated everywhere I looked, but I didn’t get even an inkling of magic being involved. If a witch was truly after them, there’d be magic residue, and there just wasn’t any.
I sat quietly long after I’d figured out that whatever was going on with these two, it wasn’t coming from a witch or any other magical source. Waited while Diego drew them out, got all of their stories, and made them feel confident that this could be sorted out and put right.
“Why do you think it’s a witch?” Diego asked the mother.
“I’ll show you,” the woman said and stood. The daughter jumped up and grabbed hold of the back of her mother’s shirt. Diego and I followed them through the house to a side door that led outside.
“These,” she said, sweeping her arm to indicate markings carved into the outside of the door.
There were several standard pentacles, a square with a line down the middle and an X stretching corner to corner, a backwards capital E with a dot next to it, and three diamond shapes next to each other.
I put out my hand and touched a few of the markings. I didn’t feel any magic coming from them.
Diego took out his phone and photographed the marks. He typed something—field notes I was guessing—then put the
phone back in his pocket.
He stepped back and looked again at the marks for a long moment, then said, “Anything else?”
“Mama,” the girl said. “The cat.”
The woman drew a breath. Her shoulders shook slightly. “We both saw the cat. A huge black one with glowing green teeth and eyes. It flew at me when I was in the backyard. Scared Deena half to death.” She put her hand protectively on the girl’s shoulder. “And phone calls where all that’s on the line is static.”
Diego held his hand out to the woman. “We’ll look into this. I’m confident we can end the harassment.”
The woman took his hand and held it tightly between both her own. “Thank you. My daughter is afraid to be in her room at night. She follows me everywhere. We need this to stop.”
“I’m going to turn this over to my boss, Tyron Danyon. He’ll call you in a day or so.”
“Thank you,” she said again.
She still had a death grip on Diego’s hand. He gently pried it loose, reached into his pocket for his silver case, and gave her a card. The woman clutched it like it was her only hope.
I stayed quiet until we were back in the car and Diego said, “So?”
I shook my head. “They certainly believe a witch is after them and I can see why with some of the things that have happened, but I didn’t sense any magic at all. My guess would be that someone is trying to scare them.”
“Mmm,” he said. “And doing a good job of it. Any idea who?”
I felt inside myself, letting my senses roam back into the house and all around the property.
“If there’s an ex with a new girlfriend, my money is on her.”
“Why?”
“It’s what it feels like to me. Something about the ex not really being all that ex and holding on. It’s vague. I can’t give you more than that.”
Diego started the engine. “That’s a lot, actually. It gives us a good starting point. All the client wants is for it to stop.” He patted my leg in a job-well-done manner and pulled the car into the road.
“What happens for her from here?” I asked.
Ice Cold Death Page 5