I reseated my weapon and opened the door, sliding out of the seat. “Thanks for coming.”
“The news media is all over this like white on rice. If my assistance will stick Jim Paton behind bars and recover the missing girl, then I’m happy to oblige.” The edge in her voice convinced me she was more than willing to help this once, with no quid pro quo to balance the account between us.
I inclined my head toward the crime scene tape and together we ambled over, unconsciously keeping the cruisers between the news van cameras and ourselves. Softly, so no one with a parabolic mic or something even fancier couldoverhear me, I said, “I don’t think Paton took Raynay. I think he’ll go to jail for child pornography, but I think blood-servants took the girl. I got a reading that suggested vampires took her in broad daylight, and since that’s not likely, I’m thinking blood-servants who have been drinking a lot of vampire blood—enough to make them read a little like vamps—took her.”
“You are not accusing Ming’s people,” Yummy said, half question, half assertion.
“No. But you tell me.”
We had reached the fifteen-foot-wide square of lawn marked off by yellow crime scene tape. The tech was long gone. Yummy looked at me as if asking if she could cross the tape. I shook my head. “Do the best you can from here.”
Yummy dropped into a squat, one knee on the ground. She was wearing tight Lycra running pants and still wasn’t sweating. I didn’t envy the whole blood-drinking thing, but I did envy the vampire not-sweating thing. She leaned forward and sniffed several times. Then sat back on her haunches. She said softly, “The human girl was frozen in panic. The ones who took her are the same blood clan as the Naturaleza who attacked the council chambers of Ming of Glass.” Yummy’s blond hair shifted and fell across one shoulder as she angled her head up to see me. “They’re Ming’s enemies. The enemies of all the Mithrans of Knoxville. When we find the location of their lair, we’ll kill them all. But we’ll be mindful of prisoners.”
I frowned. “Don’t you think it would be better to get PsyLED to take down a lair?”
“No.”
That was succinct. “Okay then. Thank you for coming.”
“One thing.” Yummy rose to stand beside me. “I also smell magic on them. Perhaps not enough to register on your machine, but enough to make them dangerous. Be careful. They might have powerful amulets.”
“Okay. Hey.” I stopped, thought it through, and asked, “You ever hear of a vampire named Isleen?”
“Yes. She is true-dead. If you have further questions, ask your LaFleur.” Yummy faded into the night.
I went back to my truck and called HQ, filling them in on the information Yummy had given me about the kidnappedgirl, calling her a confidential informant. It wouldn’t fool anyone at HQ, but it did keep Yummy’s name off my reports.
When I explained my blood-servant-kidnapper theory, JoJo said, “So you think we have three cases. A kidnapping involving the vampires who also attacked Ming of Glass, a witch creating a circle to curse Rick, and Paton with his child porn addiction.”
“Yes. Or maybe overlapping cases,” I said. “And if the vampires need blood, they’ll be taking more people off the streets.”
“Why is nothing ever easy?” she muttered and ended the call.
•••
I was back at HQ when the case turned itself on its head, and because I was the probie taking calls on the night shift, I got the news first. “PsyLED Unit Eighteen, Special Agent Nell Ingram,” I said, answering the official line.
“I’d like to speak with Rick LaFleur,” a female voice said.
“Special Agent LaFleur isn’t in right now,” I said, as I perused the list of missing teenaged girls within a ten-mile radius of Paton’s house. There had been seven in the last twenty years, three returned safely, four never found. That seemed like a lot. Distracted, I said, “Can I help you or do you want his voice mail?”
“Will you call his cell and tell him to call Loriann Ethier at New Orleans Police Department, CLE. It’s urgent.” She gave me a number, pronounced and spelled her last name, which didn’t match at all, and hung up.
Loriann. Rick’s Loriann. And she had just called PsyLED from NOPD. I sat at my desk, not sure what to do. I finally called JoJo on her cell so I could speak privately.
“This is weird, probie,” she answered. “I can see you from here.”
“Loriann Ethier just called HQ. She wants me to have Rick call her at NOPD CLE, whatever CLE is. Can you track it back?”
“I’m in the system. Hang on.” She repeated the number back to me. Then, “Dang, probie. You’re batting a thousand. You were right. The witch who spelled and inked Rick currently works for the New Orleans Police Department.”
Rick had to know Loriann worked at NOPD. Boss man had been keeping secrets. “Rick was going to stick around HQ until the witch circles stopped. But he’s not in-house. What do I do?”
“Call his cell. Pass along the message. I’ll notify Soul.”
I dialed Rick’s cell and opened with, “A woman wants you to call her. Her name is Loriann E-t-h-i-e-r,” I spelled out, “pronounced ‘Etta.’” His reaction was so intense it shivered through the silence on the cell. I stilled, feeling his shock through my bones and through my connection to Soulwood. Whatever it was, it was something with power, with magic, and it had hit Rick. Or come from him. “She’s the witch who inked you, isn’t she?”
Reluctant, hesitant, he said, “Yes. Loriann Ethier is the witch who... tattooed me... with a blood-magic... spell.” He growled out the last words as if they ached.
