Ella bit her lip as she always did when thinking deeply. It was so Ella-ish that for a moment, she looked nothing like her brother. “I didn’t catch much. All of it was in the same conversation. First that part about the Vows?—”
“Your father was talking to Morse?”
“No, to Roddie Whitaker. One of his cronies.”
“Wizard?”
Ella shook her head. “Typic. They grew up together.”
Beatrix crossed her arms, unsettled but not sure why.
“Anyway, after that bit about the Vows, my father said, ‘The wife?’ And Whitaker said, ‘Handled.’ God, that sounded bad,” Ella murmured. “I’m sorry I scared the stuffing out of you, but I needed to get you out of jail in case—in case ‘handled’ meant more was coming than what had already happened to you. How in blazes did they justify charging you with Lydia’s attempted murder?”
Beatrix explained. Ella looked as if she might explode.
“What else did you hear them say?” Beatrix put in quickly, trying to keep her on track.
Ella’s expression ratcheted down to a scowl. “Well—Whitaker said something like, ‘Did you listen to the news?’ My father said yes, and Whitaker said, ‘I was there. That Morse is a fucking virtuoso. I would have believed it if I hadn’t known.’ That’s how I found out that Morse attacked Lydia, though I was already certain it was him. Oh, and I’m not worried about another attack because Whitaker asked whether there was a need to ‘finish the job,’ and my father said, ‘No, that’s sufficient. Let’s not push our luck.’”
Beatrix let out a long breath, relieved beyond words. But it told them nothing about Peter’s whereabouts. Or Rosemarie’s. (Surely they were together,pleaselet them be together …)
“Anything else?” Beatrix said, hoping—hoping—but Ella shook her head.
She stared at the wall, swallowing a sob. No clues, nothing beyond the fact that Draden expected Peter to take a Vow. He could be anywhere. How was she supposed to find him? What if she couldn’t?
Focus.Focus on what she did know. Whitaker—something about him was bothering her.
“Who’s the crony?” she asked. “What does he do?”
“He’s a military bigwig. A general.”
Whitaker. Whitaker.Why did that sound so?—
“Oh God,” Beatrix said, hand to her mouth. “He’s the one in charge of the Army test site Peter used to work at. He tried to rehire Peter in March to work on the weapon again, but Peter said no.”
Ella stared at her. “You think they kidnapped him to force the point?”
Rising horror made it hard to do anything but nod.
“Doesn’t that suggest they have a plan to use it?” Ella’s voice shook. “A … specific, immediate plan?”
Beatrix shut her eyes, the explosions she’d seen in Peter’s memories replaying in a horrible loop.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I think that’s exactly what’s going on.”
CHAPTER 27
“Get up.”
Peter opened his eyes, blinking in confusion until the figure leaning over him resolved into Morse. Everything came back in a terrible rush. He stumbled to his feet, looking for Martinelli and not finding him.
“Cast,” Morse said, jerking him forward with one hand and pressing leaves at him with the other.
They were standing in interlocking Vow circles.
This was it. He would fail. Beatrix would die.
“Now,” Morse said.
