Bite Back 05 - Angel Stakes (31 page)

We were silent then, until we pulled into the empty parking lot near 470, where Yelena was waiting impatiently.

Cameron still looked distracted. Rita and Zane wanted her back on home ground. We hugged all around and they headed out.

“Elizabetta called,” Yelena said as they moved off.

I asked Yelena to make a brief report to Skylur on where we were and what had happened. I’d expected some reaction, and here it was.

“Skylur says congratulations on the ritual. However, some of Huang’s Adepts have booked a flight to Denver tomorrow.”

That gave me pause. “Looking for Tullah? Or looking for me?”

Yelena shrugged. “They haven’t said. Just because they’re traveling with Altau security doesn’t mean they tell them anything. But Skylur doesn’t want to take the chance of them getting inside your head. He wants you back in LA. There’s a session where they want you as syndesmon.”

I sighed. There was still so much to do here, but Skylur had made me uncomfortably aware of the possible consequences of being seen to defy him.

“When is he expecting us?” I asked.

“I’ve called the airfield and the Pilatus will be ready tonight. We could time it to be back at Van Nuys at about 5 a.m.” She smiled. “That would leave us some time to check out Forsythe’s house.”

“It’s too early to go breaking and entering,” I said, and gathered up my courage. “I better go see Mom.”

Mom’s little blue Honda was in the drive, under the winter-bare branches of the Siberian elm, so I parked the Hill Bitch on the road.

In the streetlight, I could see that my stepfather, John, had pruned the elm carefully in the fall. Come spring, it would shade the drive well without hanging low enough to catch your head as you walked to the door. The edges of the flowerbeds had been tidied to clean lines. Any weeds were long gone, and Mom’s flowers had been cut back for winter. One or two of the weaker ones were under little clear plastic bells. Everything neat and well looked after.

Mom could rely on John. Not like me. Or my sister Kath, for that matter.

I sighed.

As much as I missed her and loved her, I was reluctant to go in.

What do I say?

I knew Jen and Alex, and even Agent Ingram, had spoken to her while I was in therapy. That wasn’t the same. Diana’s subtle compulsion to prevent me from worrying about everything else while I recovered had robbed me of the urge to call Mom.

Or had it? What if that was just an excuse I was telling myself?

That was the kicker about having someone mess with your head—you lost certainty about yourself.

It’d been a mixed visit to my home town. No useful leads on Fay, Dante going AWOL, a good result at Coykuti. Good news from LA on the negotiations and the Belles. A good start with Ingram. A huge high from all the Athanate biting at Manassah and the feeling of my House forming itself around me.

And now, Mom.

Which side would this be on? Positive or negative?

“Go on,” Yelena said, expertly pickpocketing my cell. “I’ll stay out here and answer calls.”

Mom must have been watching and waiting. She opened the door before I knocked and rushed out to hug me.

I couldn’t say anything, couldn’t speak, even after we got inside.

It wasn’t until she’d gotten me sitting in the living room, with a mug of John’s fresh-brewed coffee and a plate of her very own chocolate and cinnamon cookies, that she even let me talk.

There were worry lines on her face that hadn’t been there before. They tugged at my heart.

“How are you?” she said. “No one was able to tell me exactly what was the matter.”

I sighed. “That’s because it’s all secret,” I said. “But I’m fine, Mom. See?” I got up and spun around.

“Well…” She wasn’t convinced, but eventually we moved on to news about her friends, the Quinns. I’d helped them out with a burglary insurance claim in the fall and it had finally come good. They’d come around earlier to pass on the news.

John snorted. “And for Ruth to dig up any gossip about you,” he said. He sniffed and hid a smile. “I have some letters to write. I’ll leave you to it.”

He’d judged that Mom and I would find it easier to talk without him.

I didn’t deserve my mom, or my stepfather.

As the door closed quietly behind him, Mom inspected her hands. “Ruth didn’t really come for gossip. It’s just that she’s…naturally interested in what’s happening.”

Naturally.

“It was thoughtful of Alex and Jen to call me,” Mom said. “They’ve both been so pleasant.”

Her hands slipped over each other as if she were washing them. She caught herself and stopped, laced her fingers together.

“I assume from the fact that both of them called, several times in fact, that, well, there’s been no resolution?” she said.

As hard as Mom tried to understand my love life, she hadn’t quite accepted that I could love two people equally at the same time.

“It is what it was,” I said.

“And they are both somehow part of all this FBI case you’re caught up in?”

“Yes.” We were getting near things I couldn’t explain.

“Hmm.” She unlaced her fingers to take a sip of coffee. “Has Agent Ingram been in touch?”

I got a little pulse of worry. Why was she asking about him?

“We’ve spoken recently,” I said truthfully.

“It’s funny. When I was last speaking to him, I was sure he didn’t actually know where you were, but of course, he had to, if you’re all part of the same investigation, surely?”

Who needs Adept Truth Sensors?

“Well, not necessarily.” I had to get Mom off this topic, and I knew I should be asking about my sister as well. “How’s Kath?”

Mom’s face fell. The hand that reached for her coffee trembled.

“She quit her job.”

“What?”

Kath loved her work as a lawyer. I understood she hadn’t made partner, which she blamed me for, but she lived for that job.

Mom sat back and wouldn’t look at me. “She was having problems.”

Yeah. The drinking type.

I couldn’t say that to Mom, but I didn’t need to. She knew what I was thinking.

“It’s not alcohol, Amber.” She waved her hand. “Oh, she gets drunk, but that’s not the real problem.”

“Then what is?”

“I don’t
know
. She won’t talk to me.”

I laughed, without humor. “Then there’s no chance she’ll talk to me.”

Mom shook her head. “There’s just…something there. A hunch. I told you about before—”

“Yeah. She went off the rails for a while, after I left for the army.”

Mom frowned and shook her head again. “I’m not blaming you. It’s just this feeling I have that it’s something you’ll be able to help her with. You were so close before you left. It’s somehow all part of the same thing: your leaving, her troubles. I just don’t know. She won’t talk to anyone else. Not even Taylor.”

“He’s still around?” I said, surprised.

Kath’s fiancé, Taylor, was a slick, super-smart lawyer in the same firm Kath had worked for. He was a nice enough guy, but I hadn’t warmed to him. To be frank, I’d expected him to drop her as soon as he realized what a mess she’d become.

“Yes. And not just around when he can be. He’s taken a sabbatical to take care of her,” Mom said.

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. In the pressure-cooker careers of large legal firms, that was astonishing. He might as well have resigned.

I’d underestimated Taylor badly.

“I know now,” Mom started, and paused to press her hand against her lips briefly. “I know that some of the things Kathleen did were very wrong—”

“Mom.” I held up my hands to stop her. I’d never forgive Kath. What she’d done hadn’t been wrong so much as inexcusable. But I’d do anything to ease my mother’s burdens. “It’s Christmas soon. I’ll make sure I can come back, and I’ll try what I can with Kath then.”

“I was hoping maybe now that you’re back, you could go see her,” she said. “Maybe today. She really needs you, Amber.”

“I can’t, Mom. I’m sorry. I just got word before I arrived that they need me back in LA as soon as possible.”

Her lips tightened. “Of course. I’m sure that’s more important.”

I hated the guilt trip, even though I probably deserved it. I’d broken my word too many times. Disappeared too many times, with no adequate explanations.

“I have to go now, Mom,” I said. “I promise to be back for Christmas.”

There—said it. Now I have to make it so.

It surprised me that she didn’t make more fuss about my leaving. She seemed resigned, which in a way bothered me more than nagging or guilt. As if she’d given up on me being there for them.

We hugged in the hallway. John came and put an awkward hand on my shoulder.

“Be careful, Amber,” Mom whispered. “I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

I slipped out into the night, the cold air squeezing tears from my eyes.

Forsythe had a house here in Denver that he visited frequently. It was near Crestmoor Park, the upscale side of Hilltop, and about four miles east of downtown.

It went without saying, getting caught breaking into his house would be a disaster. Even leaving traces of a break-in might be a problem.

Why is it worth the risk?

My head and my gut were still struggling over what to do about Forsythe, what would be
resolution
for me. It didn’t matter what friends he had in high places and how impregnable he was in court, I knew I could get to him and finish it all with a bullet. That didn’t feel wrong exactly, but somehow, it didn’t feel like it was
enough
. I was starting to think about first tearing down everything he was involved in, letting the light shine on every dark secret in his life.

Was he really a serial rapist? Had he been all this time? How could he get away with it?

I absolutely believed that Tove believed what she’d told me—that Denver was where he brought women—
girls
—and if she was right, there had to be some clues here.

What about the criminal activity?

Maybe there’d be clues to that. Something that would provide a way to crack open the criminal group Elizabetta thought he was part of. Something we could pass to Lieutenant Reed.

We coasted past the luxury homes of Forsythe’s neighbors. They were all set back in quarter-acre plots with tended yards running right down to the edge of the road. Ornamental maple trees and sculptured hedges partially obscured warmly-lit living room windows, porches and doors with glowing Christmas decorations, Colonial stoops and New Orleans style French balconies. I caught glimpses of multi-car garages with motion sensing courtesy lights facing down the drives.

And all that was niggling me. I could see too much of the houses. The neighborhood was open, full of well-kept houses in sight of each other and the road. Good for the folks who lived here.

Not so good for folks like me wanting to break in.

And not where I expected Forsythe to spend his weekends. Too…
wholesome
.

Even the growl of the Hill Bitch’s engine seemed loud and out of place on this street.

At least the Hill Bitch wasn’t looking bad. Drake had done an amazing job on her. All the dents were gone, and he’d resprayed her in a gorgeous green so dark it was almost black. Officially, the truck belonged to Altau, but they were going to have to fight me for her.

We didn’t want to attract attention here, so we cruised past Forsythe’s house without stopping. It was unlit—a pleasant, two-story house with flint-clad front, elegant arched windows and steeply-pitched gables under a slate roof. His garage sprawled to the left: long and low, big enough for three cars. At either end of the garage, there were lamps shaped like old coach lanterns, which would light up the drive and front door.

And on the right side of the house, just under the eaves, a large yellow alarm box with a blinking red light advertised his security system.

I snorted. It had been too much to hope for that his house would be hidden from sight behind a wall, and not protected by an alarm. Might as well hope that he’d left his keys in the front door.

I slowed and took a couple of rights, so we could see the house that backed onto Forsythe’s.

Many of the houses on both sides were dark. Maybe families gone away for Christmas, or absent owners like Forsythe. All with alarm systems silently blinking their warning into the night.

Yelena was grinning. “Lots of alarms, yes?”

“And only one police force.” I knew where she was heading. “No, Yelena. I’m not going to set off a dozen alarms to create a diversion while we break into his house.”

“Okay.” She wasn’t fazed by me ruling out her fun. “I use your laptop?”

“Sure.”

I drove down every street in the neighborhood until we arrived at the park which gave the area its name.

Yelena was looking at the manufacturer’s website for Forsythe’s alarm.

“It’s a cell system,” she said. “I can get us in. Maybe rig the system to keep the alarm off.”

“How likely to set off the alarm?”

She pursed her lips. “Ten percent chance.”

I chewed on that. Somewhere he came so regularly was important.

House security systems going off were almost always false alarms. The police wouldn’t respond unless it was a really slow night. A security company guard would come past, and that would probably take fifteen minutes. If he saw something suspicious, he’d call the police. Even then, when they arrived would depend on their workload.

Lots of time for us to be elsewhere, if nothing went wrong.

Worth the risk.

“We’ll do it,” I said.

An hour later, we’d left the Hill Bitch by a church on the other side of the park, and we were crouched down in darkness at the back of Forsythe’s house.

I’d felt embarrassed in New Mexico when Tullah had demonstrated her ability to pick locks, since I couldn’t do it myself, so during my down time in LA I’d learned the art. I was ready and waiting for Yelena’s go-ahead, wearing the latex gloves I’d keep on inside the house.

Yelena had the radio frequency scanner I’d borrowed from Matt ages ago and left in the truck. She’d rewired the controls and was patiently stepping through channels and watching the display reading.

“His alarm uses only one channel for talking to the security company and one for communicating with the detection devices,” she murmured. “As long as I don’t block them for more than five minutes, it doesn’t do anything about loss of signal.”

“So once the lock is open, we have five minutes to switch the system off?”

She nodded.

“Okay.”

I worked on the lock. After a couple of minutes I felt the last subtle click that told me the tumblers were all caught at the right height and ready to turn.

“Ready?” I asked.

Yelena pressed a button on the scanner and watched the display. “Go,” she said.

I twisted the lock and the door opened.

Yelena slipped around me like a cat.

She paused for a second to look briefly at the detector above the door, then she ran to the hallway. As agreed, I stood by the door, heart in my mouth and ready for a quick exit.

It took less than a minute. “We’re clear,” she said, walking back in.

“You sound almost disappointed.”

I could tell she was smiling in the dark. “It’s a basic system. This man can afford something spectacular. Motion sensors, ultrasonics, laser beams. But there’s nothing.”

She went to a window and looked it over carefully before shrugging. “Don’t break a window. Don’t open a window. Don’t open an external door.”

“What about when we leave?”

“I do another reset. We have twenty seconds to get out. Easy.”

“Great.”

I looked around. We’d come in through a family room with wide bay windows.

It was a quiet neighborhood. I could make out the occasional passing car, but everything else seemed muted. The house itself was absolutely silent.

I covered my flashlight with my hand, letting only the thinnest beam out. My night vision was good enough to fill in the details.

There were easy chairs and a sofa—big, rounded, leather-covered furniture. It looked wrong. A closer inspection showed no signs of wear, no stains on the rug in front of the unused fireplace, no clutter in the corners. It might as well have been a model home.

I moved into the main hallway, treading lightly on hickory wooden floors. Again, no clutter. No coats on the coat rack by the front door. Nothing. I got down on my knees. The polished floor showed no dents, scratches or marks that I could see in this light.

I got up.

A curved staircase with metal bannisters rose up to the bedrooms, and matching steps went down into the basement. A door to one side of the hall revealed a show-kitchen with glossy, granite slab surfaces, walk-in pantry and every cooking utensil and ingredient hidden away in alder wood cabinets. Only the breakfast bar looked as if it had ever been used. The fridge and freezer were empty; switched off and doors propped ajar. The pantry stocked only a few canned items and sealed plastic boxes of cereals and dried pastas. The washing machine was empty and the work surfaces polished.

I started to think this was a waste of time.

The yard lights went on.

Shit.

Beams flooded through the sidelight windows on either side of the front door.

We pressed ourselves into a shadow pool just inside the kitchen.

“Are you sure about that alarm?” I said.

She nodded.

If this wasn’t the police responding to an alarm, what was it?

I’d shielded the flashlight; no way someone could see that. But had we been seen breaking in at the back?

A dog barked.

“Busted,” Yelena said.

“Maybe.”

I slithered back into the hall. No one was peering through the windows yet. I ran to the front door and listened.

“What’s up, fella? What’s that?”

More excited barking. Not the police. A dog walker. And a dog who smelled something he wasn’t expecting to smell here.

We didn’t need this. We wanted to be in and out of this place.

Well…what had worked in Albuquerque might work here.

I imagined Cameron on the other side of the door. Her prickly, powerful dominance swelling up, pushing at me through the door. My own reaction to it.

The barking stopped, cut off abruptly.

I could imagine the dog saying
oh, shit
.

“What’s up, fella?” The guy’s voice was puzzled now.

A whine. A scratching sound. And the feeling of the poor dog slinking away.

I felt rotten.

“That was fun.” Yelena took a quick peek through the windows. “They’re gone.”

“Let’s do the study,” I said.

It was decorated in old Colonial style. A heavy wooden desk with an inlaid green leather top stood facing a library of expensively bound reference books.

I started on the books, checking if there was anything hidden behind them.

It was all clean and dust free. That didn’t tell me Forsythe was an avid reader. More likely he fired any cleaner who didn’t have the house spotless for his visits.

His visits. No way this house was used a couple of times a month.

Yelena worked through the desk.

“It doesn’t feel used at all,” I said. “This is all for show.”

She nodded. “Nothing in the drawers but stationery supplies,” she said. “Not even locked. No secret compartments.”

I let her get on with it, running my latex-covered fingers over the ornaments placed on one of the library’s unused shelves. There was an antique spinning globe of the earth, a bronze Tibetan prayer bowl, some African soapstone carvings, a smooth jade Buddha.

“Ah. There’s a laptop,” Yelena said.

My fingers slipped inside the Tibetan bowl. Something moved at the bottom and I lifted it out. I let the thin beam of the flashlight play on it. A casino chip.
Bellagio
was printed on the outside arc, and
$25,000
in the middle.

Yelena came to my shoulder and peered at it. “Big chip to leave lying around.”

I shrugged. He was rich enough, it might mean nothing to him.

“What can you do with the laptop?”

“Nothing here, but give me fifteen minutes,” Yelena said. “I could take the drive out and clone it. We can look at what’s on it later.”

“Do it,” I said. “I’ll finish the rest of the house.”

I went upstairs. It was a simple layout, with three bedrooms and a main bathroom. I might as well have stepped into a hotel suite. Closets were empty except for hangers and air fresheners. The beds were made, and even had hotel-style bed covers. There were disconnected clock radios on bedside tables. The bathroom was well stocked with unused toiletries in high-end branded boxes.

The master bedroom was similar. Made bed, bathroom with toiletries and generic medicine—painkillers and cough syrups. The closets had a man’s expensive clothes and shoes, socks, shirts and underwear still in the packaging, a white bathrobe, puffy towels.

I checked the drawers, half-expecting to find Gideon’s Bible.

Nothing. Not even dust underneath the bed.

Assuming the information about Forsythe leaving LA every couple of weeks was right, where was he going to? Not Denver—or at least, not this place.

Everything about it felt slightly wrong. It didn’t fit in with his image. It wasn’t a house, so much as a permanent private hotel room that he needed from time to time. Maybe a place he’d used before, until something better came along.

I went back to the ground floor.