“Like what?”
“I dunno. Records has been working on her for a while now, and all we’ve got are few photos and a bad address?”
“And a current location.”
I supposed that was all that really mattered.
A sleek black town car let Evelyn off just behind us. As she climbed out of the car, she treated me to a warm smile…which immediately drained from her face as she turned toward the preschool. “Someone’s terrified.”
“You get that from all the way out here?” Jacob asked.
Evelyn nodded. “It’s a lot of someones.”
As she said that, the wind shifted, bringing a thready cry to my ears. And once I heard it, the others soon followed. We headed in, flashed I.D., and made our way out to the fenced playground. The workers were too busy herding cats—or, in this case, toddlers—to even ask why a group of federal agents might need access.
Outside…pandemonium.
Some kids huddled in horrified clusters, others darted gleefully away from a very winded, red-faced minder. A kid in purple overalls was being tended by EMS. And the sound of crying came from everywhere…including one of the staff. (Although the kid in purple was so intrigued by the paramedics that she’d forgotten she was supposed to be in tears.)
And among all of this, a slim figure in a khaki uniform with a Pest Rid logo stood beneath a swing set, shielding her eyes from the sun as she gazed up at a small, organic bump about the size of my fist. We waded through a crowd that was too chaotic to even notice, and approached the swing set.
“Sarah Dombrowski?” I asked tentatively. I didn’t like the buzzing sound I heard in the gaps between the wails.
She gave a curt nod. “They’re lucky these are common paper wasps. So many pollinators are protected these days.”
Sarah was a no-nonsense woman with shoulder-length hair in plain ponytail, no makeup, and a formidable pair of steel-toed boots.
I glanced at the kid by the paramedics. “Doesn’t look like the one in purple feels so lucky.”
Sarah shrugged. “If she was allergic, her throat would have closed by now.”
I’m no kid-person…but Sarah seemed awfully blase about the prospect.
The aids managed to funnel some of the toddlers inside, but the ones who were more interested in all the spectacle broke free from the pack, squealing, and circled the lot like the wasps buzzing around the hive.
“Victor Bayne with the FPMP.” I held up my ID, but Sarah hardly spared it a glance as she kept her eyes on the hive. Not like it worried her. More like it was the next task to cross off her list. “I’m looking into the apartment on George Street and wondered if you could help me clarify a few things. How was it living there?”
She shrugged. “It was an apartment.”
“And the bedroom? Anything strange about it?”
“Strange, like what?”
“Oh, you know.” I gestured vaguely, so as not to plant any ideas in her head. “Strange.”
She thought for maybe half a second. “No. Not really.”
Which didn’t mean the repeater wasn’t there yet. Only that Sarah couldn’t sense it. Just like the majority of the population.
Since I was getting nowhere fast, Jacob gave it a shot. “What about your boyfriend—Zachary Sledge? Did he mention anything unusual?”
“Ex-boyfriend.” Sarah said it the same way she might’ve said “paper wasps.” A simple statement of fact. “And no. Zach didn’t notice much of anything unless it involved protein powder or his own reflection.”
Jacob consulted his untouched notepad as if there was something on it. “When did you two break up?”
“February.”
“And how did Zach feel about that?”
