As the car rolls to a stop, Clive clears his throat. “So, you and the client…?”
“If you value your job, don’t say another word.”
Except, I need him. And he knows it. After a chuckle, he turns, his voice no longer echoing off the front windshield. “I love my job. My boss is pretty cool. Most of the time. Today, he’s wound tighter than a two dollar watch.” The teasing tone leaves his voice. “And we both know that’s when mistakes happen.”
“We’re getting nowhere.” With a sigh, I lean forward, doing my best to meet Clive’s gaze. His black sunglasses—against ghostly white skin—help me focus my stare. “I can’t protect her. No one’s heard from Ford and Trevor, Vasquez and Ronan are working nights, and Evianna’s totally alone during the day.”
“I can watch out for her. Mom’s at the point in her recovery where she’s ordering the nurses around and demanding we tune the television to her favorite soap operas. Give me three hours and I’ll park myself outside her building.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking.” Clive gets out of the car, comes around, and opens my door. “I’ll check in when I get back to her office.”
I hold out my hand, and when Clive’s cool fingers grasp mine, I give him a nod. “I owe you.”
“Nah. Consider it my apology for Trev’s packing tape adventure.” He claps me on the back, and I head for the door.
“VoiceAssist: Call Wren.” Leaning back in my chair, I take a long sip of coffee. I want to text Evianna, but after my repeated fuck-ups this morning, I’m afraid if I say the wrong thing now, we’ll end up needing those separate rooms at the Fairmont.
“Hey, boss,” she says. Exhaustion lends a raspiness to her tone, and she yawns over the call. “I spent the entire night on a ghost hunt. Louie Stein died seven years ago in a charter plane accident off the coast of Bimini. Honest-to-galoshes, Dax. I didn’t even know Bimini was a real place. I spit out my tea.”
The corners of my lips tug up in a half smile. “One of these days, you and Ry should go. It’s…beautiful.” Scattered memories fade, a little more every day. The beaches, the blue-green water. How long until I can’t remember what anything looks like?
“Dax? Hey. You all right?”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I refocus. “Fine. Why?”
“Because I asked you if you found anything at Kyle’s place.”
“Shit. Sorry.” Taking another hit of coffee, I summarize what happened the night before. “So I have an old answering machine sitting on my desk right now, and no fucking clue what to do with it.”
“Like Sneakers?” Wren squeaks. “Holy snack cakes. You and Evianna had better come out here when this whole thing blows over. I want to meet her.”
“Uh…yeah. I…sure.” What the hell did I just agree to?
Wren seems surprised, because there’s the distinct sound of her choking on whatever she’s drinking, followed by coughing and wheezing and a stammered apology.
The sound of typing carries over the line. “Fudgsicles,” she says. For Wren, that’s serious swearing. “Dax? Kyle was bailed out of jail last night. What time did you say you and Evianna were at his place?”
“Shit, Wren. We could have run right into him. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Um, excuse me if I was a little busy tracking down the guy who tried to kill Evianna. What time were you there?” Her words slow with her anger, turning deliberate and quiet.
With a sigh, I shake my head. “Sorry. I’m…not good company right now. Eight-thirty. Give or take.”
“You and Ry, both,” she mutters. “Hang on.” More keystrokes, and shit. I wish I could see what’s on her screen right now.
“Wren, you have to talk to me.”
“In a minute.”
Pushing to my feet, I start to pace. Five steps to the door, three steps to the far edge of the window, six steps to the other end of the office, another three steps. I make four circuits before Wren stops typing and whispering to herself.
“At seven-twenty-three, a traffic camera two blocks from Kyle’s apartment caught a single image of Kyle with another man. I can’t tell if it’s Louie, but I’m running pattern recognition now. Whoever he is, he’s holding onto Kyle’s arm, and the kid looks scared out of his mind.”
Dropping back into my chair, I pull out the notebooks Evianna trusted me with. “I can’t do a damn thing with the answering machine on my own. But I can scan Kyle’s notes and maybe…get lucky.”
“Turn your glasses to transmitter mode. I’ll get scans of everything you see, and we can try to figure this out together.”
