Collector's Item (18 page)

Ham shook his head. “You’ve got to let that go. The Bureau has its limitations just like every other organization. As for Torne, yeah, everything points to him, but nothing concrete yet. We’re still working on it. There’re more computer and paper trails than the IRS.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Believe me, I’m keeping up the pressure.” He looked up, a speculative gleam in his eye. “Speaking of pressure, Anton Marant’s been asking about you. A lot.”

Even while recognizing a distraction when he saw one, Peyton was willing to let the topic go. For now.

“If you’d let me call KT in the first place, he wouldn’t be,” he said.

Ham fished a cell phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and tossed it at Peyton. “Here. If it’ll get Marant off my neck, call her.” Ham softened his words with a grin. “It’s encrypted, but it’s a one-time-use. Give it to Jim when you’re done.”

Peyton dropped the cell phone in his shirt pocket. “Thanks,
Dad.
Now, back to my original question. When are you going to cut me loose?”

Ham glanced at the clock and then rose to his feet. He swept his hat off the cushion and spun it around his hand. “You’re here until the hearing. No arguments. Torne’s people are still trying to keep the ‘paranormal attack’ angle alive, but the info coming out of the Collectors’ reserves is taking the wind out of their sails. The conditions the Collectors kept paranormals under were horrific.”

Remembering Lance’s death, Peyton growled. “Torne’s going to get what he deserves, right?”

The hat spinning stopped and Ham’s eyes took on a steely resolve. “Oh, yeah. We’ve got an air-tight case for kidnapping and murder.”

“It’s a start. Couldn’t happen to a better guy.” Peyton shoved the footrest down and stood. He stuck out his hand. “Thanks again, for all this. I know it’s been a political nightmare, but at least we’ve brought down the Collectors’ organization on the East Coast.”

Ham gripped Peyton’s hand hard and then let it go. He settled his hat on his head. “Let’s hope so.”

Chapter Twenty

“You’re where?”

KT glared at the open report on her desk. She’d been reviewing the numbers on the Appalachian Hospital build when her cell buzzed. Expecting the subcontractor’s call, she’d answered without looking at the number. The sound of Peyton’s voice almost made her drop the phone.

It had been ten days. Ten days! She’d tried his cell phone, but his voicemail was full. Calls to the Alliance were politely answered, but no one would tell her anything. All her life, she’d tried not to trade on her family’s position. However, when her calls to the Alliance failed to get results, she’d finally asked her father to find out what he could.

She took a silent breath. “What took you so long to call?”

“I’ve been in custody since I beat up Torne at the hangar.”

KT’s jaw dropped and her fingers tightened on her cell. She wished it were his neck. “You what? Are you crazy? I thought he tried to escape.”

“That’s the official story.” The low rumble of his voice rolled through the cell phone. “I saw your face when Torne was hauling you to the plane. After we tranked you, it took three men to get me off him.”

KT couldn’t help the little thrill of satisfaction at the thought. She put down the pencil she’d been gripping in her other hand and swiveled her chair to stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows of her office.

She let out a breath. “Then what happened?”

“Torne came out of surgery screaming for a lawyer. Ham’s working his ass off trying to keep me out of jail.”

KT’s chest tightened. The paranormal laws were very straight-forward. “You attacked a human, Peyton. Have they charged you?”

“Preliminary hearing is next week. Ham says rounding up all the Collectors has created a monster of a backlog. Anyway, Torne’s lawyer hasn’t got a case. The entire team says that Torne made a break for the plane, tried to fight free, and had to be restrained.” Peyton snorted. “It’ll be his word against those of a respected Alliance team. With charges of kidnapping and murder added to his alleged leadership of the East Coast Collectors, I’m thinking Douglas Torne’s ‘untouchable’ days are over.” Peyton’s voice deepened into a growl. “He’s lucky he didn’t leave that hangar in a body bag. I lost it.”

KT remembered when Andi leaped for Torne; Andi’s only thought—kill. Kill the man who had kidnapped her, beat and drugged her. “I lost it myself,” she admitted. “If you hadn’t tranked me, I might have killed him myself.”

“And you would have hated yourself for it,” he said, his voice back to normal.

KT closed her eyes. He was right. Andi would have killed Torne without remorse, but KT would have deemed herself a murderer.

However, with current laws biased as they were to protect humans, Peyton’s attack on Torne could be seen as felonious. If the judgment went against Peyton, he could be locked away for a long time.

The thought of him salison-chipped and locked in a silver-coated cell made her sick.

Peyton’s voice echoed in her ear. “You still there?”

She took a careful breath and pushed away the ugly images. “Yeah.” Focus on the present; let the future take care of itself. “So, you’re in Alliance custody, not local.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s something.” KT mentally ran down her list of contacts. “I can get you a good lawyer.”

“I appreciate it, but I’ve already got counsel and Ham’s been working overtime on this. Torne’s got no case. The hearing’s just a formality.”

“But they’ve detained you.” KT heard the tiny warble in her voice and hoped it didn’t reach through to Peyton.

He continued as if he hadn’t heard anything odd. “Politics. Even though Torne’s an asshole, he’s a
human
asshole attacked by a paranormal. This way, the Alliance makes the mundanes happy by keeping the big bad jaguar caged until they prove I’m just a big pussy cat at heart.”

“I haven’t received a summons,” she said. “Don’t they need me there?”

“Ham’s trying to keep this a military matter,” Peyton said. “You gave them your statement. They’d only call you in if it goes beyond the preliminary.”

KT tried not to think of all the ways this could go wrong. If she did, she’d be a mess. “Do you honestly think the hearing next week will be the end of it?” She hated the weakness in her voice.

“Sure, and once the charges are dropped, I’m a free man.”

Her heart leaped at er unspoken question in his voice. “Sounds good to me.”

“Hang on.”

The rustle of his hand over the speaker and muffled voices dribbled through the connection. Then, Peyton’s voice came back. “Sorry about that. I’ve got to wrap this up. Evidently, Alliance encryption’s only so good. I should have asked for one of Benny’s phones.”

“Benny?” KT frowned and rolled the name around in her head. “Lofland? I read about him in Father’s reports.”

“Yeah. Techno-genius. The Alliance would be fools not to try to recruit him. His encryption’s unbreakable.”

“He’s the one turning state’s evidence?”

“Yep. Now, about that rain check.”

KT’s heart flipped. He remembered. She tried to sound nonchalant. “Oh?”

Peyton chuckled, a warm rumble in her ear that ignited a cascade of shivering tingles down her spine. She squirmed in her chair and tried to stop the silly grin she knew was smeared across her face.

“Yeah,” he continued, “I’m thinking Alexandria. I know of a bed and breakfast there.” He paused. “How’s that sound?”

She gave up the fight and shared a giddy grin with her reflection in the window facing her. “Sounds good.”

****

“How much longer do you think they’ll be?” KT asked, glancing at her watch for about the hundredth time.

Men and women wearing the black and khaki Protectorate uniforms passed in and out through the security barriers of the Alliance Justice Building. Barriers that kept her from attending Peyton’s Preliminary Hearing; a hearing that had been decreed closed.

She lowered her hand to her lap, any memory of the exact time slipping from her mind as quickly. She ground her teeth in frustration. She had wanted to be there, in the hearing room, to lend moral support and, she hated to admit it, to ease her own worries.

Instead, she and her father sat in the two-story glassed lobby. She stared at the fountain that splashed in the center of the lobby, seeking calm in the tranquil sound. A tribute to the Protectorate men and women who had died defending the rights of the paranormal, the fountain bore the names of the dead etched into its basin.

Several conversational groupings of chairs had been arranged along the marble wall facing the glass-fronted lobby. Upon their arrival, her father had commandeered the furthest one from the door and security barriers.

Forced to shed her coat beneath the greenhouse effect of the windows, KT sat on the edge of her chair, her father seated more casually to her side. Around them were positioned Clemmons, two bodyguards and KT’s personal assistant, Angela Lintz.

KT smiled at the petite blonde who had shadowed her every waking moment since KT’s return to the compound. The older woman seemed determined to never let KT out of her sight. She had been invaluable to KT, providing a nearly impregnable barrier between her and the unending demands of the press.

The make-up of their party had felt a bit ostentatious to KT when they set out from the penthouse, but now, facing the small, but determined cadre of reporters, KT wondered if they should have brought a few more bodyguards. Though the reporters remained at a discreet distance, KT could not help feeling besieged.

She resisted the urge to play with the single strand of pearls that encircled her throat. No sign of nervousness or weakness would betray her as she faced the vaguely ravening stares of the reporters. Her gaze went to her father and his warm smile eased her back against the cushions.

“Hard to say how much longer,” her father said, looking toward the security barriers. A small podium had been set up before the Protectorate Shield embedded in the marble. Microphones like the spines of a malformed porcupine sprouted from the top of the podium. Not a single news services wanted to miss the announcement.

Her father turned back to her, his expression relaxed and calm, though she could feel his tension beneath the surface. The determination carried a double concern for him—Peyton’s freedom and the effect on paranormal freedoms. “Military proceedings move at their own pace.”

“Ms. Marant? Ms. Marant, can I have a moment?”

KT did not turn. It seemed the press had fired another salvo, sending yet another reporter to press for a sound bite. She’d already given her statement to the media. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Angela step forward.

“Ms. Marant has already given a statement to the press.”

“I just wanted to ask a question,” the reporter’s voice bordered on aggression. KT’s neck hairs rose.

“Ms. Marant has already given her statement to the press, Mr. Thompson.” Angela repeated, her voice smooth, but authoritative. KT could well imagine the look she was leveling on the reporter. The retired teacher could reduce an adult to a nervous schoolchild with her withering glare.

If she hadn’t been so worried about Peyton, KT would have smiled. The reporter must be new to the paranormal beat if he thought he could bulldoze his way to a paranormal. If he kept up like that, one day he’d end up on the short end of a paranormal’s fuse. If Angela’s glare did not do the trick, nothing like having one of the bodyguards give a little display of fang and claw to cut off a reporter’s overenthusiastic pursuit of a quote.

As if he read KT’s mind, Clemmons nodded to one of his men and the other two bodyguards moved in to flank Angela.

Luckily for the reporter, a burst of excitement rose from the assembled reporters as a uniformed figure passed through the security barrier and stepped to the podium. The thunder of footsteps nearly overwhelmed the splash of the fountain as the reporters jostled for position, lights on poles bursting into brilliance, handheld devices thrust forward over and around shoulders.

Light glinted on his salt and pepper buzz cut as Colonel Brilling faced the rush of reporters. Hat under one arm, he raised the other hand to call for silence.

Relative silence fell around him, underscored by the stuttering clicking of cameras. KT could barely hear them over the thudding of her own heart as she rose to her feet. Her father stepped up beside her, his arm brushed hers, the contact reassuring. She fingered the pearls, warm against the sudden chill of her fingers.

Colonel Brilling looked out over the crowd until his gaze met hers. “The Preliminary Hearing has just concluded. The charges against Captain Peyton Allers have been dismissed.”

She fought the urge to close her eyes in thanksgiving, instead giving a tiny nod to the colonel. Her father’s casual contact shifted to a supportive arm around her waist.

A firestorm of questions erupted into the air. KT watched with consternation as a few reporters spun on their heels headed for her. Her father gave her a quick hug before he stepped back. Angela and the bodyguards moved aside to permit the reporters access, as agreed earlier. KT braced herself when their voices battered against her fragile control.

“Will you be testifying against Douglas Torne at his hearing?”

“What do you think of the dismissal?”

“What is your relationship with Captain Allers?”