Daughters of Eve Collection (Books 1, 2 & 3)
Page 71
“Is anyone else here?” the woman whispered.
“No ma'am, it's just me. I'm Mahayla Breland.” She didn't move around the desk, afraid she would make the woman flee before she found out what the problem was.
A husband turned stalker, most likely.
Again, the woman hesitated.
Mahayla saw the way the woman's sunglasses tilted toward the high corners of the room. Like she was looking for surveillance cameras. There were none in this specific office, though the building owner had them on the outside in case of breakins.
Finally, the woman walked to a chair at the desk and sat on the very edge. She didn't put the mace away. “I'm Emma Chapin.”
Mahayla didn't sit down yet, and she didn't offer her hand. Instinct told her that would be a bad idea despite her own personal protocol. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Chapin. Would you like something to drink?”
“No thank you.”
“All right. What can I help you with today?” Mahayla sat down and folded her hands over the top of her desk. She realized that she didn't expect the woman to talk about an unruly ex-husband, an obsessed lover, or an irate co-worker any longer. Intuition, which she'd learned to trust long ago, warned her that whatever brought Emma here was much darker.
Emma licked her lips and nudged the sunglasses up on the bridge of her nose with a knuckle. “Do you accept missing persons cases?”
“Yes, I do. Who is it that's missing, Ms. Chapin?”
“It's my son. Elliott.” Emma's sunglasses pointed down at her hands. At the mace.
“How long has he been missing?”
“Three years.”
“How old is Elliott, Ms. Chapin? Have you contacted the authorities?”
“He's twenty-nine, thirty in September. I can't contact the authorities. I need to do this on my own.”
Mahayla sat back in her chair. “I'm not sure I understand. The authorities have a much more intricate networ--”
“They have spies in the police department,” she whispered.
“They?”
Emma whipped a look behind her.
The quick motion startled Mahayla. No one had come into the office. What had the woman so spooked?
“I can't tell you unless you agree to take the case, Miss Breland,” Emma said when she glanced back. She seemed a little edgier.
“I'll take the case. I need a hundred-fifty dollar deposit. The balance will be due when I find your son.” Even if she'd had ten cases ahead of this one, Mahayla wouldn't have turned it down. This was more than a simple missing persons case, more than someone who'd run off in a fit or a fury. She could feel it in her bones.
Emma dug through her purse, keeping the mace handy at all times. She withdrew a wallet and then fished out the payment in small bills. Carefully, she made a stack on the desk.
Mahayla pulled her receipt book over and began writing one out. “Thank you. Now then, who is 'they'?”
“The Society of the Nines.” Emma's voice dropped below a whisper. So low that Mahayla had a hard time making the words out.
“I'm sorry, did you say the Society of the Nines?” Mahayla glanced up. Emma's face looked ashen and her mouth had compressed into a tight line.
“Yes, dear. Do you know them?” Her hand tightened around the mace.
Mahayla noticed; she also knew that Emma was watching her every move, as if she suspected Mahayla might be involved with this group. She tore off the receipt and set it down. Picking up the stack of bills, she put it in a plain white envelope and set it into the top drawer. She hoped the mundane task would take the edge off Emma's tension.
“I've never heard of them before. Why don't you tell me about them though after you tell me about Elliott.” Mahayla surmised this group, whoever they were, might have something to do with the entire situation. She gathered a notepad and a pen and glanced at Emma.
The sunglasses were pointed at her, suggesting Emma was staring. Mahayla strove to appear collected and calm. She wasn't entirely convinced of Emma's sanity at the moment, and really didn't want to be sprayed with mace.
“It's my fault they're after him,” Emma lamented. Sincere regret tinged her voice.
“Why is it your fault? What do they want with Elliott? Do you think they already have him?” Mahayla doodled on the notepad; endless little circles in a corner. Her busy mind worked over the evolving details.
“Because he was born on September ninth. If I could have only had him one day earlier, or one day later.” Emma exhaled what sounded like an exhausted sigh.
“I don't understand the correlation.” Mahayla wished the woman would remove the sunglasses. She might get a better read on her.
“Nine. Nine, nine, nine,” Emma said. She leaned forward and, without asking, flipped the pages on Mahayla's desktop calendar until the date on the pages read: September 9th, 1999.
Mahayla stared at the date. Obviously, the number Nine played a prominent part. Society of the Nines. All the nines in Elliott's upcoming birthday. Roughly eight weeks away.
“You didn't say whether you thought they'd made contact with Elliott,” Mahayla reminded her.
“No. No, I don't think they have. That's why I'm here.” Emma's sunglasses tipped up from the calendar toward her again. “I want you to find him before they do.”
“Why doesn't Elliott just find you?”
“Because he knows they watch me. Now, they'll be watching you too.”
. . .