Living with the Dead Part 38

"No, a red-haired guy in some team jacket."

"I saw him."

Damon told Finn that Adams had been in rough shape. Finn presumed it was from the gas, but he hadn't mentioned that part to Damon, who was already eyeing Robyn like a mother hen with a bedraggled chick. Damon said the man seemed to take Adams against her will, but she'd escaped. He'd been about to run through the side fence, taking a shortcut to follow them. Then he'd seen a van around the back, Karl Marsten in the rear of it.

"He left Adams?"

"Not willingly. He was out cold, being loaded in by two guys dressed like SWAT, and I thought you must have called it in. But they'd cut out the bathroom window and taken him through there, so no one would see, which doesn't sound like the LAPD to me."

"They weren't."

"So we have private citizens in riot gear, kidnapping a guy through a motel room window, and strong-arming a woman out the front door... in broad daylight? This case is getting stranger by the minute."

Again, Damon didn't know the half of it, and if Finn stopped to think about it all, he'd get mired in the mora.s.s of his his confusion. confusion.

"Where's Adams now?" he asked.

"Over there." Damon pointed to the back fence. "She kicked the c.r.a.p out of the guy. I know Aikido is supposed to be good self-defense, but man, that was something else. Bobby definitely has to start taking those lessons with her. Way better than a gun."

"So Adams is okay?"

"I think so. When they were going at it, I came back to find you, couldn't, went back and they were done brawling. They seemed to be negotiating." He paused, gaze still fixed on Robyn, and rubbed his thumb over his chin. "I guess I should go check on her. Hope, that is."

Finn tried to think of some way to agree without sounding heartless. They both knew that once Damon left, he might not get this close to Robyn again.

"I'll go." Damon wrenched his gaze away. As he did, he leaned for a better look at the front lot. "An ambulance just pulled in. Is that for Bobby? Is she okay?"

"Just thought I should get her checked. Should be a squad car, too. I'll send that over to help Adams."

Damon hesitated. "Might want to hold off. She's okay and..." He rubbed his chin again before looking at Finn. "What I heard at the sandwich shop? Hope and that Nast guy? It was..."

"Strange?"

"Yeah. What did Bobby ?"

"Go keep an eye on Adams."

Whatever was going on here, he had a feeling that if the police descended on the situation too quickly, answers would dissipate like smoke signals. As Damon loped off to the fence, Finn collected Robyn and headed around front.

HOPE.

A block away, Rhys had parked a nondescript car with local plates. In the car, he efficiently tended Hope's wounds, then managed to pick up the Cabal tail while looking like he was trying to avoid it. Independent operative, hired gun, mercenary... whatever Rhys called himself, he was adept at it, which was good because as a clairvoyant, he sucked.

Hope gave him props for admitting it. In the supernatural world, the strength of your powers is like intelligence level for humans. Everyone lets on they have it in spades, if only as untapped potential. Saying your powers are weak is as tough as admitting you're not too bright.

When he tried to check on Karl, he couldn't pick up anything, which suggested Karl was still unconscious. He did get a brief flash of Robyn. She seemed to be sitting on the tailgate of an ambulance. There was a man with her. From the description, it was Detective Findlay.

After talking to Sean, Hope was sure Findlay had nothing to do with the Cabal. The fact that he'd waltzed through their office doors meant he was either one h.e.l.l of a b.a.l.l.sy necromancer or he didn't know what the Nast Corporation was. But she hadn't had a chance to tell Robyn that. If she was with the paramedics, though, she must have realized that whatever Findlay was, she was safe for now.

For now, Robyn did did seem safe, and Hope had to leave it at that, because after a brief snapshot of Robyn, Rhys's mental camera screen went blank. Not so much a substandard model, then, as a battery hog, needing plenty of downtime between shots. seem safe, and Hope had to leave it at that, because after a brief snapshot of Robyn, Rhys's mental camera screen went blank. Not so much a substandard model, then, as a battery hog, needing plenty of downtime between shots.

They were being tracked by two vehicles a black car and a van, which were taking turns in the tailing position. Rhys wasn't fooled.

"Are you sure Karl is in that van?" Hope asked.

"Positive."

"But if you can't see him..."

"He is. Relax, Hope."

"I'm being sensible, not sensitive. There's no shortage of vehicles at a Cabal. Why not exchange that van for another, take Karl back and get him locked up before he wakes?"

"Because they're waiting waiting for him to wake up. Irving isn't particularly bright, but he is resourceful. If I take off on foot and his guys lose me, he has a werewolf." for him to wake up. Irving isn't particularly bright, but he is resourceful. If I take off on foot and his guys lose me, he has a werewolf."

"For tracking."

"Presumably the original plan was to take you as a hostage and force Karl to help."

"But now you have me, and that works just as well, as motivations go."

A moment of silence, then, "Check out the van behind us. Can you tell me what he's doing wrong?"

One might think a mercenary would jealously guard his knowledge, but Rhys spent the next ten minutes teaching her how to spot, lose and be be a tail. In part, Hope was sure it was a distraction from thoughts of his son, but she also got the sense he liked to teach. So she shut up and absorbed. a tail. In part, Hope was sure it was a distraction from thoughts of his son, but she also got the sense he liked to teach. So she shut up and absorbed.

Or she did until, in the distance, she saw the big-box bookstore from earlier.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Back to those medical offices where Colm Where you were earlier."

It was a moment before she managed a cautious, "Why?"

"I need a quiet place to take care of the Cabal team."

"By taking care of them, you mean..."

"I have tranquilizer guns in the trunk."

She hoped her sigh of relief wasn't too loud.

He went on. "The problem with stopping to do that is that I need an empty place where, logically, I might go before heading to the k.u.mpania. Irving will be wondering why I grabbed you. Going here will answer his question."

Hope was about to ask how. Then the vision replayed the boy running off the edge, twisting, his face She s.h.i.+vered, the chaos pleasure cut short by a cold snake of dread slinking up her spine.

"Revenge," she whispered.

He didn't seem to catch the chill in her voice. "Right. If they haven't already woken Karl, they will when I take you inside. He'll tell them why we're here, and the team will rush in. Your death isn't in their best interests. They'll try to rescue you, while letting me escape so they can continue the hunt."

The car slowed to take a corner, heading into the complex behind the big-box store. Her gaze straight ahead, Hope waited until the car decelerated, then grabbed the door with one hand, and her seat belt with the other. The door flew open, her seat belt whirring as she threw herself against Rhys's arm slammed into Hope's chest, catching her square in the solar plexus, forcing her back in her seat, gasping and sputtering as the brakes squealed. Rhys lunged across her to yank the door shut while the car shot up on the curb and bounced down again.

As the car hit a full stop, Hope jerked against his arm, coughing, eyes watering, like she'd been hit with a fresh dose of tear gas. He made a sound, one that sounded suspiciously like...

He was laughing.

Hope gasped, mouth opening and closing, nothing going in or out.

"Shallow breaths." He withdrew his arm. "It'll come back. And, no, I'm not going to apologize for hitting you that hard. Never go easy on allies if you have to take them down. Especially Especially allies. You're already fighting the urge not to hurt them. Counteract that and hit them with everything you've got." allies. You're already fighting the urge not to hurt them. Counteract that and hit them with everything you've got."

She stared as he talked, calmly twisted in his seat, hand on the wheel, lecturing her as if they were still cruising along, talking about how to tail a car. When her fingers edged toward the door, he pressed the electronic lock.

"I know what you're thinking, Hope. I said I'm going to make the Cabal believe I want revenge for Colm's death, and you're wondering if that's exactly what I want, that I'm saying it to throw you off track. I don't think I have a single operative who would see that far ahead, and I've trained trained them to always be on the lookout for a trick. I'm impressed." them to always be on the lookout for a trick. I'm impressed."

She kept staring.

"First-rate survival instincts." He leaned toward her. "Does that come from having demon blood? Or a professional thief boyfriend?"

She said nothing.

"Either way, I'm impressed. You can never be too paranoid, Hope. That's what I meant about coming down as hard on allies as on enemies. It doesn't matter whether you work for the council, a Cabal or on your own. Never trust that your allies won't turn on you, and never presume your enemies can't be turned to help you."

He checked the rearview mirror. "Good. They've seen us. It'll be obvious something happened, maybe you tried to escape, which will support the story."

He cranked the wheel away from the curb, then accelerated. "It is is a story, Hope. Yes, I want revenge against the person responsible for my son's death, but that person isn't you. You tried to stop it. In your place, I would have done the same. So it's not you I'm after." a story, Hope. Yes, I want revenge against the person responsible for my son's death, but that person isn't you. You tried to stop it. In your place, I would have done the same. So it's not you I'm after."

"Adele."

He slowed near the medical center, checking for police before turning into the lot. "Neala his mother tried to warn me about Adele. I've been gone since Colm was two. I stayed away. That was the deal." Silence as he circled the lot. "But Neala kept in touch, let me know how he was doing. Then, last year, she called me in a fury. She'd caught Adele and Colm making out."

"How old is Adele?"

"Exactly Neala's point. You get it. I didn't. Maybe as a guy all I could think was that, at his age, I'd have been in heaven if a nineteen-year-old came on to me. Like Neala, I suppose you see the problem. It's fine for a fourteen-year-old to fantasize, but for a young woman to reciprocate..."

"Something's wrong."

"Which is what Neala said. I knew it wasn't normal, but the k.u.mpania is very insular. Adele wouldn't have a lot of options for a s.e.xual outlet. Maybe she was immature for nineteen. Maybe Colm was mature for fourteen. I made excuses and chalked up Neala's reaction to a mother's jealousy." He paused a moment, then jackrabbited into a spot, slamming on the brakes hard enough to smack her forward, ribs aching.

"Stay put," he said as he opened the door. "We need to make a good show of this, in case they're already watching."

ROBYN.

Robyn sat on the ambulance tailgate as the paramedic checked her eyes. He hadn't looked at her shoulder. He didn't know he needed to.

Robyn had made a deal with Detective Findlay. If he was going to find Adele, he needed her help, and he wasn't getting it by dumping her in a hospital room. So she wouldn't mention the shoulder and he'd pretend not to know about it.

He hadn't liked that, his blue-green eyes cranking up the frosty blue, his square jaw getting squarer. But she was right and, as she pointed out, it was her safety, therefore her decision. He hadn't liked that either, his look saying that, as a murder suspect, she didn't have that right, but he was too polite to say so.

He reminded her of the cops they used to send to her school, parading them as proof that Officer Friendly really was friendly. Robyn wasn't so sure friendly friendly was the word she'd use to describe Detective Findlay. Just... courteous, which was more than she deserved, after pulling a gun on him and ranting about werewolves and demons. was the word she'd use to describe Detective Findlay. Just... courteous, which was more than she deserved, after pulling a gun on him and ranting about werewolves and demons.

As Robyn looked around, Detective Findlay ambled back to her. No, ambled ambled wasn't the right word either. It implied aimlessness, and Detective Findlay carried a decisive air that forbade anything that vague. But he took his time, like a grizzly bear fixed on a target, in no particular rush but broaching no deviations to his path either, presuming all smaller beasts would get out of his path. wasn't the right word either. It implied aimlessness, and Detective Findlay carried a decisive air that forbade anything that vague. But he took his time, like a grizzly bear fixed on a target, in no particular rush but broaching no deviations to his path either, presuming all smaller beasts would get out of his path.

One of the officers did scamper into his path to intercept him. It was a young officer, barely twenty, with an eager smile, big eyes, big feet and a tendency to stumble over them. The detective didn't seem to notice the officer until he was a hairbreadth from smacking into him.

Lost in thought? Or busy listening to his ghost? He had the same distant look Hope got, the one Robyn now knew meant she was seeing a vision. When he saw the young officer, he snapped out of it with that same blinking jolt of surprise.

What was it like to see ghosts? What did they look like? What did they say?

The ghost Detective Findlay had been communicating with seemed to be some kind of spirit guide, helping him by scouting for Hope and Karl. Did Detective Findlay only see that one spirit helper? Or a world of ghosts? If it was ghosts, did that prove life after death? Did that mean Damon was still out there, somewhere, and if he was, could Detective Findlay Robyn banished the thought. Hope and Karl were missing. Adele Morrissey was still at large. Making contact with her dead husband sat at the bottom of Robyn's priority list. It had to.

Detective Findlay spoke to the officer, then continued on to Robyn. "You okay?"

The paramedic answered for her, in far more detail than needed, the detective's patient nods belied by his fingertips tapping against his leg.

"If she's okay, I need to get her back to the station."

"Sure," the paramedic said. "We could "

"I'll take her in my car." He looked at Robyn. "Ms. Peltier?"

That was all he said, his broad face impa.s.sive. No meaningful look pa.s.sed between them, but those tapping fingers told her something was up. He hadn't been so eager to get her into custody until now.

Robyn slid from the tailgate. Detective Findlay dismissed the paramedics, gave final instructions to the officers, who were canva.s.sing the motel guests and staff, then led Robyn to his car.

"We have a fix on Hope," he said as he fastened his seat belt. "She's with the guy from your motel room. Ball cap and sports jacket."

"Rhys. Is she okay?"

"Seems so. She's going with him willingly, as far as... my source can tell. We'll follow."

HOPE.

When Rhys came around to Hope's door, holding a gun, she put on a very convincing show of resistance. And he taught her another lesson in not giving the ally any quarter, wrenching her arm to the breaking point again and forcing her inside the building, where he pointed out that the gun was filled with tranquilizer darts, and he had a second one for her.

He could have told her this in the car, but she guessed that booster shot of true panic hadn't hurt the act.

"Aim for their legs," he said as they huddled in the stairwell. "Presume they're wearing body armor. I doubt Irving will come in, but he might follow if his men are slow getting back out. If you see him, tranq him. Then use this."