“From what I hear, there’s a good reason Bruyn can’t pin Ginny and Brandi’s murders on Radu,” I said. “He didn’t kill them himself. He hired someone.”
“What?”
“I don’t know if it was the same for Claire. I’m still trying to find a link between her and Radu ...” I trailed off, but he didn’t bite. “Word is that Radu hired this guy who lives over near Cougar. You know where that is?”
“I think so.”
“Guy’s name is Brody Manchester. Claims to be an Iraq vet, but I can’t find a record of him serving. I suspect the only serving he did was in a penitentiary. Sounds like a real whack-job.”
“And he lives in Cougar?”
“Near it. He has a camper and moves around outside town staying ahead of the cops. I figured I’d swing by tomorrow afternoon and hunt him down.”
“Good idea.”
“Do you want me to call you if I find anything? I might need backup.”
“Sure. Absolutely. Manchester, you said?”
“Like the soccer team.”
He took out his BlackBerry. “I’ll do some digging myself.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”
Two CUPS OF coffee and an espresso crème brûlée had not made Michael any steadier on his feet.
When we reached his car, I held out my hand. “Keys?”
“I’m good.”
“Please tell me you’re not one of those cops who thinks the laws don’t apply to him.”
“No, course not. I ...” He looked around, blinking, then nodded. “You’re right. One glass too many. But you had—”
“One and a half, the last sip an hour ago, and I’m firie.” I walked along a yellow line dividing parking spots. “Want me to do it backwards?”
“Sure.”
I did, making him laugh ... and hand over the keys.
As I pulled out of the parking space, he said, “Watch out. She’s got a lot of—”
I hit the gas, smacking him back in his seat. At the street, I braked, sending him snapping forward.
“Sweet,” I said.
“Just be careful. You may not be impaired, but your reflexes could be a little—”
I tore off, accelerating, then hitting the corner fast and hard. Three blocks later I idled at a stop sign.
“Reflexes okay?” I said.
“Carry on.”
I turned left.
“Actually, the highway is—” he began.
“Too many cars. Don’t worry. I have an excellent sense of direction.” I took the first left onto a back road. “Columbus is this way. Roughly.”
I hit the gas.
I PARKED BESIDE my motorcycle.
“Good thing we took the back roads,” he said. “One cop and you’d have been out of a license.”
“Not too worried about that,” I said as I got out.
He eyed me over the roof. “You do have your license, don’t you?”
“Sure. I’ve got one.”
“One?” He looked at my bike. “Please don’t tell me—”
“Then don’t ask. I’m honest, remember? Not necessarily law-abiding, but unrelentingly honest.” I walked around and held out the keys. “And I do believe you’re ready for these.”
As I handed them over, he caught my hand.
“I had a good time tonight,” he said.
“So did I. You aren’t nearly as boring as you look.”
His laugh rang through the empty lot. “God, you are honest.” His hand slid around my waist, pulling me to him. I backpedaled away.
“Kissing? On a first date?” I said. “What kind of girl do you think I am?”
He grinned and tried again, but I danced out of his reach.
“Second date,” I said. “And only if you let me drive your car again.”
“Without a license?”
“Ah, such a moral dilemma.” I unlocked my motel room door. “Call me tomorrow night if you’ve made up your mind.”
“I don’t think it’ll take that long.”
“Mmm, it might. Better wait until then. See if you’re still interested.”
I slid inside and closed the door before he could say more.
I stood there, fingers on the chain. I’d had a good time, too. Not a rock-my-world date, but a really nice one.
As I got older, I dated less, and I’d thought I was just slowing down, getting ready for that big moment when Adam would notice me, but after I realized that wasn’t happening, I just kept slowing down.
In some ways, it was like mourning after a bad breakup. I needed to get back in the game, and Michael would have been a nice place to start. Too bad he’d never call for that second date.
“Now that’s a dress,” said a voice behind me. “He let you get away that easily? What’s wrong with the guy?”
I spun to see Jesse stretched out in the armchair, file on his lap.
“Good thing I didn’t invite him in,” I said.
“Why would you do that? It was business, wasn’t it?”
“I can multitask.”
He laughed.
“You seem to have a talent for getting into places you aren’t supposed to be,” I said, kicking off my heels.
“You did read my record, right?”
“It’s juvie. Sealed.”
He arched his brows. “What kind of detective are you? Break and enter, as you probably guessed. Two years in juvenile detention, where the only thing I learned was how not to get caught next time.”
“Shocking.” I sat on the edge of the bed. “And you’ll give me pointers, right?”
“Anything you want to know.” He set the file on the side table. “I apologize for breaking in. Kind of. But I was sitting in my truck and the manager kept looking at me like he was five seconds from calling the cops.”
“That’s your pickup? The blue one? Or, presumably, used to be blue, at some point?”
“Yes, which explains the manager’s interest.”
“So, to avoid being suspected of breaking in, you broke in.”
“Exactly. If it bothers you, though, I won’t do it again.”
He said it like he was offering not to smoke in front of me.
“Call me next time,” I said. “So I know you’re inside and don’t blast you with an energy bolt.”
“Hadn’t thought of that. Consider it noted.”
He reached for an open Coke bottle on the table. When he couldn’t quite get it, he flexed his right hand slightly and the bottle slid to him.
“Show-off,” I said.
“Hey, I have to use my powers for something. They aren’t good for much else. Not like I’m a supercharged Volo.”
“And good thing, too.”
He frowned, then snapped his fingers. “Right. Lucas mentioned that you guys knew one. Quite the character, I hear.”
“Crazy psycho bitch, more like. Left me trapped in a research lab, tried to kill Paige and Lucas, and probably had something to do with my mom’s death. Let’s just say I fondly recall the day Paige sent her home to hell.”
“Don’t blame you.” He took a swig of Coke. “So, as you can tell, I’m swinging by earlier than expected. I figured I’d read the files and make copies of some pages.” He held up a camera. “I also figured I’d take you for a beer and discuss the case if it’s not too late.”
“It’s only ten o’clock.”
“I’m giving you an out, in case you’re still pissed off at me for dumping the case on you.”
“I was never—”
“Annoyed, then. So you’ll join me for a beer?”
“Or two.”
“Good.”
I grabbed my shoes. My cell phone chirped on the night table.
“You forgot this,” Jesse said, grabbing it for me. “It’s been going off all night.”
Not so much forgotten as left behind so I couldn’t get a call from Adam when I was out with another guy.
I checked it. Three text messages. One missed call. All from Adam, looking for that
promised update. Damn.
“Just a sec,” I said to Jesse. Then I popped off a quick text, saying I was still working and I’d call in the morning.
twelve
There was no chance of finding a bar open in Columbus—I wasn’t even sure there was one. So we headed over to Battle Ground. Jesse bought the beer, then announced he had reason to celebrate. He’d found the deadbeat dad he’d been hunting.
“Bet your client is happy,” I said.
“Thrilled. I just hope it means they’ll get the guy to pay up. You should see this woman. Juggles two part-time jobs so she can be there when her four kids go to school and back when they get home. Lives in a dump and takes in typing work so she can pay for paint to spruce the place up. And the bitch of it? Once, when she was ready to crack, she admitted that she hadn’t wanted four kids. She didn’t think they could afford so many, but her husband came from a big family. He wouldn’t let her go on the pill and would keep ‘forgetting’ to use protection, knocking her around if she complained.”
“Bastard.”
“Yeah.” He took a gulp of beer. “I mean, my family life wasn’t the best. I think my dad had a suspicion I wasn’t his kid—the whole half-demon thing—so he didn’t want much to do with me, but then I see people like this family, and I realize I had it okay. Anyway, I’m really hoping this guy gives up and pays. And if not, let’s just say that my next visit won’t be so friendly.”
“If you need backup, I’m a phone call away.”
“Or closer. At least for a few days. My case is done, meaning I’m now at your disposal. I just need to head to Seattle and grab clean clothes, and I’ll be back tomorrow.”
I must not have looked as happy about that as he’d hoped, because he said, “Or not ...”
That had been the plan, right? That he’d join in as soon as he could. Only I’d been doing pretty good so far. I’d made a few mistakes, but I’d learned from them. That was the point of going solo.
I didn’t want to offend Jesse by refusing his help, though, so I fell back on my best strategy: honesty. I really wanted to do as much of this job as I could. If things got ugly, I’d call him in a heartbeat. For now, though ...
“You want to try it on your own. I think it’s a good idea, actually. Lucas should have had you running solo long ago. If it’s okay with you, though, I’d like to keep my hand in. Research, sounding board, backup, whatever you might need. That okay?”
“Definitely.”
“Good.”
JESSE DROPPED ME off at the motel. I waited until he’d left, then hopped on my bike and headed for the police station. I hadn’t told him what I was planning. There are lines you shouldn’t cross as a private investigator. Breaking into a cop shop is one of them.
After twenty minutes outside the building, I was beginning to think I wouldn’t be crossing this line tonight either. The station wasn’t empty.
Earlier that day, at the diner, I’d asked about nighttime law enforcement. It was obviously a very small department and I’d hate to need police backup at night and be unable to contact anyone. They said there hadn’t been a night dispatcher since the last budget cuts. Any calls after midnight went straight to the chief’s house. The officers did patrol sporadically, but on a schedule known only to the department. That, though, should have left the station empty, and it was—empty of cops, at least. After hours, though, was cleaning time.
Cleaning a place the size of a bachelor flat shouldn’t have taken long. But apparently Bruyn didn’t know that and paid by the hour. When I’d cast a blur spell and slipped in, the woman was lounging in Bruyn’s office, doing a crossword, her work not yet begun. I went back outside to wait.
After another twenty minutes, I began running through my repertoire of disarming spells. I had a sleep one that seemed promising. It was a “Mom spell”—one of hers I’d gotten through her contacts.
Mom had been a teacher of the dark arts, but she’d always kept me sheltered from that part of her life. Her contacts knew of me, though, and once I hit teen-hood, they’d started reaching out, hoping there was enough of my mother in me that I was chafing under the guardian-ship of two do-gooders.
That just proved they didn’t know my mother as well as they thought. She was hardly an upright citizen, but she didn’t embrace the dark side because she was evil. It simply made good economic sense. She used those contacts—as I did—with extreme caution. I gave them useless tidbits about the council and the Cabals, and in return, I could call on them with questions I couldn’t ask Lucas and Paige.
Part of the wooing process is gifts. That’s where the spells come in. They give them to me, saying stuff like “your mom would have wanted you to have this.” I collect the spells. I practice them. I store them away in my secret safe deposit box and, when they fit the bill, I use them.
As for why a sleeping spell would be a secret dark magic spell, it was—like most of the spells I kept in my box—not the result that caused concern, but either the materials needed to cast it or the spell’s potential side effects. In this case, the side effect was narcolepsy.
Like my less savory contacts, these spells have a place in my tool-box, and if inducing a few weeks of narcolepsy in an innocent woman would help me stop someone who’s killing innocent women, then I didn’t see a problem with that. Trouble was, the spell, like most dark magic, required dark ingredients. Only grave dirt in this case, but I hadn’t brought any with me.
I was debating a search for the local cemetery when the cleaning woman came out for a smoke. That didn’t give me time to ransack the station, but I had another idea.
I hid in the shadows as she pulled out her lighter. Then I launched a teeny, tiny energy bolt. The lighter exploded. The woman dropped it, shaking her hand and staring down at the remains.
Muttering, she kicked the lighter into the grass, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a matchbook. As she opened it, I launched a drizzle spell. As water trickled down, she scowled up at the rain gutter and cursed Bruyn for not fixing the apparent holes. When she went to light her cigarette, her matches were damp and useless.
More curses as she stuffed the cigarettes back into her bag. Now came the big test. How badly did she need that smoke? I held my breath until she yanked out her car keys and stomped off to her vehicle.
When she was gone, I slipped into the station. I knew from my diner small talk that there was a security alarm, installed a few years ago after evidence—small amounts of drugs and money, then a gun-disappeared from lockup. I knew how to disarm most systems, but didn’t need to-the cleaner hadn’t turned it on.
I found the case file easily enough. I knew I had a limited amount of time before the woman returned, so I took only what I needed, bypassing the files Bruyn gave me and the crime-scene photos I got from Jesse. I copied the rest as fast as I could, then hurried out and was gone before the cleaning woman came back.
* * *
WHEN I GOT back to the motel, it was almost two. As tired as I was, I couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t used to being alone at night except at home.
There was a time when I couldn’t wait to leave home, but when I was finally old enough to move out, I didn’t. We had a big enough house. Paige and Lucas didn’t mind me being there. I pulled my weight with chores and I paid rent. I liked where I was. Liked it too much maybe.
My phone chirped. Paige, quietly sending a text to call her in the morning. I read it a few times, hearing her voice in my head and relaxing.
It helped. But not enough. I hit speed dial. It rang three times. Then Adam’s drowsy voice came on, yawning a hello.
“You said to call you later,” I said. “Is this late enough?”
He swore.
I smiled. “Couldn’t resist. Go on back to sleep. I’ll call in the morning.”
Another yawn. “No, I’d better take the update while I can.” A squeak of the bed, as if he was sitting up. “So what’s happening?”
I told him. He didn’t laugh at my fake black mass lead,
just said, “Those mannequin props don’t sound like anything from a black mass, real or fake. What time of year did you say that guy stumbled on the stuff?”
“Last fall.” I thumped back onto the pillow. “And something tells me it was late October.”
“Yeah. I’m betting it was on display because it was supposed to be on display.”
“A haunted house for Halloween.”
“It’s a possibility. Ask around.”
We talked until I was the one yawning. He chuckled and said, “Now it’s my turn to keep you awake.”
“I can just hang up.”
“That would be rude.”
“Yep.”
“Okay, I’ll let you go. And I won’t pester you with a dozen texts tomorrow, but call, okay? I know you don’t want me holding your hand. But toss me a bone. I just spent two days listening to lectures on research techniques. I’m dying here.”
“And who signed you up for the conference?”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Aren’t you done anyway? I thought your last thingy was canceled.”
“Thingy? Glad you take such an interest. Someone asked me to sub on a panel tomorrow afternoon, and since you don’t want me around ...”
“There’s a hot chick on the panel, isn’t there?”
He snorted. “Just an old colleague of Dad’s that I couldn’t say no to. Meaning I’m stuck here another day at least, so you’re stuck amusing me. Got it?”
I smiled. “Got it.” I yawned some more.
“Okay, okay, I’m hanging up. Call tomorrow, though. Preferably before three A.M.”
A RAP AT the door woke me. I groaned, rolled over, and squinted at the bedside clock. 7:12. Another rap, louder now.
“Miss Levine?” A woman’s voice.
I rolled out of bed, grabbed jeans and a T-shirt, and yanked them on as I called, “Just a sec!”
I opened the door to a smiling middle-aged woman holding a takeout cup of coffee and a bag. I was pretty sure this place didn’t have room service ...
“I work at the coffee shop around the corner,” she said before I could ask. “I was asked to deliver this to you at seven o’clock.”
“Okay...” I took the bag and coffee.
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