Eve of Chaos (28 page)

“She was under
duress at the time,” Eve reminded him dryly.

“Why were you
out there with the priest to begin with?”

Eve explained
the chain of events, wincing inwardly as his face darkened with every sentence.

“So let me get
this straight,” he said tightly when she finished. “You’re supposed to stay in
the house. Instead, you left to talk to the priest about a nut job who wouldn’t
bother you if you stayed in the house like you’re supposed to?”

“I guess. But—”

“But nothing.
What the hell were you thinking?”

“You know what I
was thinking! The demons want me. We want Gadara. Hiding here isn’t going to
help move things along. I don’t need more guilt, Reed. I’m aware that Father
Riesgo’s abduction is entirely my fault.”

Her eyes stung
and her vision blurred. She scrubbed at her lashes with impatient fingers. She
hated crying in front of other people, but it was worse with Reed, who fidgeted
uncomfortably in reaction. Much like his father. So unlike Alec, who felt too
much and was open about it.

Reed looked down
at their joined hands. “Raguel is probably dead.”

Eve froze. It
was a good thing her heart worked like a machine, considering how many times
she’d been surprised today. “What would make you say that?”

“The impression
I got from Sara is that Cain wouldn’t have been promoted if Raguel was still
alive.”

“Do you believe
her?”

“I don’t know.
It makes sense. There have only been seven firms forever. Maybe that number is
immutable.” His gaze lifted to meet hers. “I have to look into it.”

If Gadara was
dead, then Riesgo might be, too. She supposed she’d rather take the word of an
archangel over Satan. But she had never been a blind-faith sort of person. She
couldn’t believe anything without proof. Which meant that somehow she had to
get Satan to provide some evidence that he had the goods.

She had a long
day ahead of her tomorrow.

“I need to
crash,” she said. The sooner she fell asleep, the sooner she could get up and
get to work.

“Yeah.” He
watched her with dark, slumberous eyes. Waiting.

“I don’t want to
be alone tonight.”

In answer, he
stood and pulled her to her feet, then carried her to bed.

A ringing phone
woke Eve.

Turning her
head, she peeked at the nightstand clock with one eye. It was just before
eleven in the morning.

“Oh man. . .“ she
groaned. “We overslept.”

Reed pinned her
in place with a heavy leg thrown over hers. “Ignore it.”

“The world is
going to hell,” she argued, “and we’re in bed.”

“Anywhere else
you’d rather be when the world ends?”

He had a point.
She lifted the arm he had draped over her torso and kissed the back of his
hand. “I have to answer that.”

He rolled onto
his back with a growl, freeing her. By the time Eve picked up the receiver,
voicemail had intercepted, but a quick scan of the caller ID told her the call
bad originated from Gadara Tower. She was about to dial her office line when
the phone started ringing again.

She sat up.
“Hello?”

“Ms. Hollis.”
Her secretary, Candace, spoke in a
whisper and sounded slightly panicked.
“The police are here for you.”

Eve brushed her
hair back from her forehead. Beneath the oversized T-shirt she wore, Satan’s
necklace throbbed between her breasts. “Yikes.”

“I told them you
were out to lunch and that you would call them when you returned, but they
insisted they’d wait for you to come back.”

“Double yikes.”

Reed sat up.

“Okay’ Eve said.
“I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

“Thank you.”

“No, no. Thank
you. You’re doing a great job. Be there soon?’ She hung up and winced at Reed.
“Cops.”

“I heard,” he
murmured.

Eve stared at
him, unable to look away. As a m
al’akh,
he suffered none of the
aftereffects of sleep that mortals did. His eyes weren’t puffy and he had no
morning breath. He was simply gorgeous. Relaxed in a way she’d never seen
before, bare-chested with slightly mussed hair that looked as thick and soft as
it felt.

Sighing, she
tossed the covers back and climbed out of bed. “1 have to go.”

“I’ll take you
there.”

Right. She had
no car. “Forgot about that.”

Half an hour
later, she was dressed in a pencil skirt and silk blouse with her damp hair
restrained in a sleek chignon and three-inch heels on her feet that still left
her shorter than Reed.

He’d showered
with her, then shifted home to change. While he was gone, she thought about how
little she knew of him. She’d never been to where he lived, so she had no idea
what his taste in furniture and design was like. As a designer, knowing those
things would give her a lot of insight into who he was. As would the selection
of books he owned or the lack thereof, his MP3 playlists, DVD collection...

“Ready?” he asked.

Eve nodded.
“What about your parents?”

“I checked on
them on the way back from my place. They’re fine. Dad is snoring on Cain’s
couch. Mom’s watching the news and catching up on the soap operas she likes to
watch. She says she can miss a year and still not miss anything.” Gripping her
biceps, he smiled. “Damn, you clean up nice, babe?”

“You’re never
anything
but
dressed up’ she said, looking at the perfect knot of his
tie. No one wore a three-piece suit like Reed.

“Complaining?”

“No way I could
when you look so fine. But you know that.”

“Just need you
to know it, too. Hang on.”

A few minutes
later, Eve’s heels were tapping out a rapid beat down the hallway to her
office. She slowed before entering, grateful that her breathing and heart rate
remained steady and even.

“Detectives,”
she said in greeting as she spotted the two familiar figures waiting in the
receptionist’s area of her office. “What a surprise.”

Ingram and Jones
stood, Jones with the dreaded worn briefcase in his hand. “Ms. Hollis.”

She gestured for
them to follow her into her office. Taking a seat behind the desk, she reached
for her phone. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee or tea, perhaps? Or
water?”

“Nothing, thank
you,” Jones said, with an edge to his tone that told her he was done tiptoeing
around her.

“Okay.” Eve
clasped her hands atop her desk calendar. “Please don’t tell me there’s been
another death.”

“Not yet,”
Ingram answered, stroking the end of one side of his mustache as he studied
her. “Do you know Father Miguel Riesgo?”

Eve wished she
had a good poker face, but knew that she didn’t. The two detectives watched her
avidly. Jones leaned forward.

“Yes, I know
him,” she answered.

Ingram nodded.
“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“Last night.
Why?”

“A missing
persons report on Riesgo was filed this morning by a Father Ralph Simmons.”

“A little
premature, isn’t it?” she asked. “There is no waiting time in the state of
California,” Jones said. “Father Riesgo didn’t show up at the church this
morning and his car was found at Glover Stadium here in Anaheim. So was yours.”

“Yes. My
boyfriend picked me up for an impromptu dinner.” She cursed inwardly when her
mark burned.
Give me a break,
she thought.
It’s pretty damn close to
the truth.

Jones withdrew a
notepad from his pocket. “Alec Cain?”

“No. Reed Abel.”

“Cain and Abel?”
Ingram’s brow rose.

She shrugged
lamely.

A knock came at
the door just before it opened. Gray Man walked in. He was dressed in a
three-piece suit of dark gray, his tall and slender frame moving with an easy
grace. His hair and eyes were a lighter shade of gray than his garments, and
his thin lips were curved in the vaguest hint of a smile that never seemed to
reach his eyes. Eve’s gaze moved past Ishamel to her secretary. Candace offered
a reassuring smile.

“Excuse us,”
Jones said, pushing heavily to his feet. “Can you please wait outside until
we’re done here?”

“I represent Ms.
Hoilis,” Ishamel said smoothly, approaching and extending his hand. “Ishamel Abramson?’

“Do you feel the
need for counsel?” Ingram asked Eve, eyeing her.

“I am here at
the request of Gadara Enterprises,”

Ishamel
explained, taking a seat on the sofa near the door. “Ms. Hollis is pivotal in
the redesign of the Mondego Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. We want to be
certain that nothing interferes with the completion of the project.”

Jones stood
motionless for a long moment, then he hummed a doubtful sound and sank back
into his chair. He proceeded to ignore Ishamel in favor of focusing more
heavily on Eve.

She cleared her
throat. “I’m confused as to why homicide detectives would take an interest in a
missing persons case.”

Ingram dug into
the briefcase. “Once your name was brought into it, we followed a hunch.”

Great. “A hunch?”

Once again,
photographs were pushed across her desk toward her. This time, it was a stack
half an inch thick. She flipped through the uppermost layer.

The photos were
black and white, and very grainy. Eve looked them over, quickly deducing from
the quality and angles that they were stills taken from security cameras around
the athletic field and nearby traffic lights. She was relieved to see that
neither Satan nor Azazel were visible to the cameras, although in some shots she
looked ridiculous because it seemed she was talking to dead air.

“See what we
see?” Ingram asked, scooting to the edge of his seat and leaning over her desk.

Eve frowned, not
sure what he was referring to.

“Here.” He
pushed the photos around, revealing the ones that sat beneath the few she’d
glimpsed on top.

Her breath
caught at a blown-up image of the chain-link fence behind her. The Nix stood
there, fingers linked through the chain, an odd smile on his face. She glanced
at Ishamel, who stood and came forward.

“That looks like
the guy in the drawing you showed me,” she said to the detectives, sitting back
to put distance between her and the image. “The sketch artist’s rendering.”

“Right,” Jones
said. “The man we’re looking for in conjunction with the Punch Bowl Murders.
We’ve got him on a traffic light camera a block away. He was standing alone on
the sidewalk, but he might have an accomplice who managed the abduction.”

“Punch Bowl
Murders?” she repeated, finding it horrifying that something so heinous would
bear such a ridiculous name.

Ingram’s fingers
tapped the stack of pictures. “Unfortunately, the quality of the security
cameras around the stadium is poor. They have blind spots and record in
intervals, so there are times when neither you nor Riesgo are on film, followed
by times when you are.”

Eve silently
thanked whoever had the foresight to take care of that.

“So here’s what
we’ve got,” Jones said, straightening his tie over straining shirt buttons.
“Your neighbor, Mona Basso; your school chum, Anthony Wynn; your priest, Miguel
Riesgo; your car at a possible abduction scene, and a serial killer. You’re
smack dab in the middle of everything, Ms. Hollis. I’ve been at this long
enough to know that you’re withholding valuable information. Which doesn’t make
sense, considering this guy clearly has it out for you. Tell us who he is,
before Father Riesgo pays the price.

You don’t want
the death of a priest on your con science. -
Eve’s gaze moved between both detectives. “I have no idea,” she said fervently.
“Believe me, if there was some way I could help Father Riesgo, I would. Even
though he isn’t ‘my’ priest.”

“What business
did you have with him, then?” Ingram asked.

She explained,
leaving out why she wanted a Bible in the first place. “The last time I saw
Father Riesgo, he was picking up bats and mitts.”

Not exactly the
truth, but...

“Would you let
us take a look at your car?” Jones asked.

“Of course.”

“We also need
you to come down to the station and give us a statement about last night. We
might have your car finished by then.”

“Can I come by
after work? Say around five o’clock?”

“Fine. We’ll
send a squad car around to pick you up.”

“That won’t be
necessary,” Ishamel assured. “I’ll bring her in. Which station?”

“The one on
Harbor. By the way,” Jones’s pen hovered over his notepad. “Which route home
did you take with your boyfriend and what does he drive? We’ll want to check
the cameras and see if this guy was following you.home.”