Reckoning: A Fallen Siren Novel (5 page)

“Zack, good to see you again!” the man says.

“Seamus.”

The two men shake hands.

“Casual day at the office?” Seamus asks with a grin. His manner is easygoing, his smile infectious.

“I had a run-in with a meatball over lunch,” Zack says. “I’m just gonna run upstairs and grab a clean shirt.”

“His shirt became a casualty,” I add, offering my hand. “Emma Monroe, Zack’s partner.”

His grasp is firm, his hand calloused and warm.

“Seamus O’Malley. We were just heading out to grab a bite to eat.” He glances down at his white T-shirt before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his worn-out blue jeans. “Maybe we should avoid Italian.”

In his flip-flops and wire-rimmed glasses, the red-haired, freckle-faced thirtysomething looks unassuming, but he’s unmistakably Were. A member of the pack Sarah wants to join, perhaps?

“I have a sneaking suspicion you can hold your own against a meatball,” I tell him. “But I do recommend you settle on a place with air-conditioning. It’s really heating up.” I remove my jacket and toss it over the back of the sofa. “Don’t let me hold the two of you up.”

“Shall we?” Seamus asks Sarah.

She hesitates.

Zack bounds down the stairs, fresh, starched white shirt in hand. “Thought you two were on your way out.” Zack barely spares her a glance as he slips on the shirt and buttons it up.

Sarah heads for the door, pausing only to collect her purse. The cheerful yellow Miche bag perfectly complements her dress and sandals. “Will you be home for dinner?” she asks.

The first words she’s uttered since I walked in the door.

Her tone is casual, but the question is not. It seems to catch Zack off guard. His brows furrow. “Probably not. New case.”

She nods. I realize how little I’ve seen of the two of them together, but even so, I recognize the undisguised tension between them.

I want it back in the worst possible way.

I wonder how much of that tension has to do with me.

“Ready?” Zack asks.

My heart is pounding. “I’m just going to use the bathroom before we hit the road,” I say, anxious to escape the awkwardness of the moment. I make a beeline for the powder room. Once behind the closed door, I wash my hands, smooth my hair, then give myself a long, hard look in the mirror.

“Keep your eye on the ball, Monroe,” I tell myself. “He’s just another guy. He’s your partner. That’s all. That’s all it’s ever going to be.”

Sarah and Seamus have left by the time I return to the living room. Zack is ready to go, too, keys in hand. “Ready?”

I nod. Zack follows me out the door, locks it, and makes for the car. “How does Sarah know Seamus?” I ask, once we’re on the interstate.

Zack keeps his eyes on the road but I see his shoulders draw up ever so slightly at the question. When he doesn’t answer right away, I feel my own defenses go up.

“Seamus is a Were. I know that much. I figured maybe he’s part of that pack you mentioned. But, if you don’t want to talk about it, just say so.”

Zack releases a breath. “He’s not just a member. He’s the Alpha.”

“He is?” I recall his gently self-effacing manner. “Really? He doesn’t seem . . .”

“What?”

“Alpha-y?”

“His leadership style is unconventional. He holds the power of the pack because its members have given it to him. He’s earned it, don’t get me wrong, just not in the traditional way.”

“Does he have a job? No. Don’t tell me, let me guess. Organic farmer.”

Zack smiles. “Close. He’s a Park Ranger at Cuyamaca Rancho State Park.”

“That’s convenient. Lots of open space.”

“He also owns a kind of ranch-slash-commune that borders the park in the Cleveland National Forest.”

“Even better.”

“Yeah. It’s great.”

Zack’s tone says it’s anything
but
great. Suddenly, I wonder whether Sarah wants to do more than connect with a pack. Could she be thinking about wanting to live with them? And planning on taking Zack with her?

We’re nearing the office and I’m not sure whether I should ask Zack directly if that’s a possibility. He hasn’t volunteered very much personal information about his relationship with Sarah, even though he knows everything about Kallistos and me.

I’m still debating with myself when Zack’s cell phone chimes to life. It’s synced with the car’s audio system and once Zack connects the call, Johnson’s voice booms out over the speakers.

“Got a message you need to speak with me.”

Zack glances at me, takes a breath, and says, “Sir, it
looks like we’re going to need to talk with your niece. Can you have her meet us at the office this afternoon?”

“Rain? What’s this about, exactly?”

In a few short sentences, Zack recounts what happened at the Simmonses’—what we found in Julie’s hiding place and her parents’ accusation that Rain is somehow responsible not only for the money, but for Julie’s disappearance. He keeps his voice even, his tone detached.

I expect a heated response from Johnson, but it doesn’t come. “Deputy Director Johnson? Are you still there?” Zack finally asks.

A soft “Yes.” Johnson clears his throat. This time his response comes through loud and clear. “Yes. I’ll have Rain at the office in an hour.”

The line is cut.

Zack clicks his phone off.

“Well,” he says. “I think we’re in for an interesting afternoon.”

*   *   *

We arrive back at the office thirty minutes before Rain is expected. We spend the time checking with the three agents assigned to do the background checks on the missing girls. They’ve turned up nothing out of the ordinary—all three families are low to middle income, live in apartments or rentals, but are not heavily in debt. Their children have never been arrested, never been in trouble at their schools, never had complaints filed against them by the property managers of their buildings.

“Squeaky clean,” Zack comments.

“Except for Julie Simmons’ unreported stash,” I counter.

“Except for that.”

When Rain comes into the office, she is escorted not by her parents, but by the deputy director. I catch myself staring as he directs the girl into his office and closes the door.

Zack nudges me with an elbow. “
That’s
his niece?”

I understand his astonishment. I’m feeling it, too. The girl with Johnson is dressed head to toe in black. Black jacket, black T-shirt, black leggings, big, black clunky boots. Her hair, too, is raven black, pulled straight back from her pale face and secured in a short, wispy ponytail by a leather thong. She’s pretty but I doubt that’s what most people would notice. The tiny silver bars piercing her nose, upper lip, and one eyebrow compete for attention with a tattoo that wanders from the neckline of her tee to her right earlobe. It’s a vine of some kind done in bright green.

When I look at Zack, his eyebrows are raised.

Maybe mine are, too. I don’t have time to think about it. Johnson is once again at his window beckoning us to join him.

“Come on, partner,” Zack says. “It’s showtime.”

Rain is seated in the executive swivel chair behind Johnson’s desk. She looks neither concerned about nor particularly interested in the reason she has been called in for questioning. She’s spinning round and round, studying fingernails lacquered shiny black (what else?) when we walk in.

She doesn’t bother to stop and look up until Johnson makes the introductions.

Her eyes, beautiful and as green as the leaves climbing her neck, flit from Zack to me, then back to Zack. She says nothing.

Johnson makes no move to leave the room and he doesn’t suggest we go elsewhere. Zack and I claim the visitor chairs so that we are both facing Rain. Johnson maintains his post by the door.

“Did your uncle tell you why we wanted to speak to you?” Zack asks.

A half shrug lifts her shoulders. “No. But I assume it’s about Julie.”

Zack nods. “Yes. How well do you know her?”

“We’ve been friends for a while. She’s one of the few kids at the Academy that will talk to me.”

“You know that she’s missing?”

“Yes, but you already know that. I told Uncle Jimmy the whole story. I’m not sure why I’m here.”

Zack frowns. “It’s important we hear it again from you. Can you tell us about the last time you talked to her?”

She nods. “Right before she was supposed to meet me at the library. We’re working on a history project together and she called to say she’d be a little late. She had books she needed to return, and we were going to work on the outline. She never showed. Didn’t answer my texts. The library closes at nine. I knew her folks would freak if I called, so I got Johnny to do it.”

“Who’s Johnny?” I ask.

“He works behind the desk. He’s cool. He pretended to have a homework question. Mr. Simmons gave him Julie’s cell number and said she was at the library, had left a couple hours ago to work on a school project.”

Zack leans forward in his chair. “Then what happened?”

“I kept calling and texting. I didn’t know what else to do. I figured maybe she’d caved to her parents’ stay-away-from-Rain rule and paired up with someone else. But I knew she wouldn’t miss curfew, so after the library closed, Johnny and I drove over and parked in the lot across the street. He called the home phone again. Still no Julie. Her folks were certain she’d be home any minute. We waited and waited. No Julie. After a while, I fell asleep. Johnny woke me up around two when the cops
showed up. Then I called Uncle Jimmy. I knew something was very, very wrong.”

“Did you know Julie had a checking account?”

She blinks at the change of subject. “Why would I? Lots of people have checking accounts.”

“With over five thousand dollars deposited in them?” I ask.

Another blink. “Five
thousand
? No. Have you asked her parents? That’d be my next move. They kept a pretty tight rein on her.”

“Her parents knew nothing about the money,” Zack cuts in. “They thought perhaps it was yours.”

Rain straightens in her chair. Her brow furrows. “Mine?”

“That perhaps she was holding it for you.”

“Why would they think that? Where would I get that kind of money?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Zack says. “Mr. and Mrs. Simmons think you might have talked Julie into doing something illegal.”

A flash of anger. “Like what?”

“Like dealing drugs.”

Now the anger becomes red-hot. Her hands ball into fists and she leans toward me. “If they think that, they’re the ones that are high. Julie isn’t into drugs and neither am I. I can’t believe her parents. They actually said those things? It’s because of the stupid tattoo, isn’t it? They blame me for Julie getting a tattoo. I didn’t force her, you know. She wanted to get a tattoo and all I did was take her somewhere safe, to someone I knew would do a good job.”

I slip the pictures of Hannah Clemons and Sylvia Roberts onto the desk in front of Rain. “What about these girls? Are you friends with them, too?”

She sniffs. “Not hardly. They’re cheerleaders.”

“You have something against cheerleaders?” Zack asks.

Rain rolls her eyes. “Let’s just say we don’t have a lot in common. Are they saying shit about me, too? That’s nothing new.”

I add the photo of Julie and line them up in front of Rain. “No. They’re also missing. This now makes three. Three girls missing in three days. You’re a smart girl, Rain. We need your help. If you know something, if you are hiding something, please, tell us. We believe these girls have been abducted. Every hour that goes by lessens our chances of finding them.”

The anger drains from her. She begins to tremble. “Why would you think I know something?”

“You’re Julie’s best friend. A girl suddenly falls into something that nets her two hundred, cash, per week? That’s something she shares with her BFF.”

Rain shakes her head. “I don’t know anything about any money. If I knew where Julie was, if I could think of anything, if I
do
think of anything . . .” Her eyes well up with tears. “My first day of school, all anyone did was stare. They judged me because I didn’t look like all of
them
. That’s why Julie’s parents don’t like me. That’s why they’re blaming me. Julie is my friend. That first day, that awful, awful day, she invited me to sit with her for lunch. Then we just laughed as they stared at both of us. If it wasn’t for Julie, I would have dropped out.” She turns to Johnson. “You can test me right now, a drug test, or a lie detector test. I’m telling the truth, Uncle Jimmy.”

Johnson steps forward. “Okay, that’s enough. Rain, wait for me outside. I’ll take you home.”

The girl hurries past us, makes straight for the door, and slams it shut behind her. The tension in the room is thick and oppressive.

“Do you believe her?” Johnson comes around the desk and takes his seat.

“Do you?” Zack asks.

Johnson draws a hand over his face. “I do, but Christ, she’s my niece. I
want
to believe her.”

“She volunteered for a polygraph,” I point out. “We could pursue that, but my gut says she’s telling the truth. If she knew something she thought would help, I think she’d tell us. She seemed genuinely surprised by the money. I say we try to follow the money, see if we find any more similar connections between the victims.”

“Do it,” he says simply. “I’ll see about the warrants. And interview the families of the other two missing girls. Rain said she and Julie didn’t know them very well, but Rain didn’t know Julie had fifty-two hundred dollars stashed away, either. Maybe they weren’t as close as she thinks.”

He looks at his niece through the glass walls, standing with her back to the office, her posture rigid. “She’s a nice kid. She hasn’t had a particularly easy life. Her mother is a bit of a flake. I want to believe her. It’s up to you now to prove I can.”

We watch as he leaves us, approaches his niece, and puts an arm around her shoulders. She leans against his chest a moment; then the two walk toward the elevators.

“So,” I say, turning to Zack. “What do
you
think?”

Zack’s eyes are still on Johnson and his niece. He’s quiet until the two enter the elevator and the doors close. “I think we’d better run those financials on all the
girls, Rain included. If we find something, we can always circle back and schedule another interview with her.” His gaze is on me now. “A special interview. One without Johnson.”

I know what he means, of course. Using my natural talent to ferret out the truth is tempting, but it comes with a price. Demeter frowns on any use of power that might draw attention to an Immortal on earth. Each use of my power risks Demeter’s wrath. Finding one of the missing, saving them, tips the scales in my direction. A justified risk for the greater good is tolerated. Necessary, so that I can continue with the mission, so that I can bring another victim home, so that maybe, someday, I can go home.

It’s almost five o’clock and all but one of the agents, Garner, has left. We join him at his desk.

He waves his hand at two stacks of reports. “I’ve compiled the police reports here, in chronological order, and the background information you looked at earlier, here. I’m afraid I didn’t find much. I was going to start reviewing the security footage from the campus next.”

“You got it already?” asked Zack.

Garner nods. “Came in around twenty minutes ago. If you’d rather I work on something else first, I can. My wife is visiting her folks in New York and I have nothing to go home to except a frozen fillet of fish. She’s trying to get me to cut down on red meat.”

Zack grins. “Well, as a matter of fact, we could use a little more help. We need financials run on the missing girls. And Johnson’s niece, Rain.”

Garner raises an eyebrow but turns to his computer.

“Think we can have them in the morning?”

“No problem.” Garner’s fingers are already working the keyboard. “They’ll be on your desks when you get in.”

I remember Zack telling Sarah earlier he probably wouldn’t be home for dinner. Although it looks now like he could be, he makes no move to leave. Instead, he removes his jacket and loosens his tie. He takes a seat next to Garner. “If we both work on this, we’ll get it done faster. When we’re finished, I’ll spring for steaks at Donovan’s, and you can drive me home. Deal?”

“Are you kidding? For a steak, I’ll come in early to start reviewing the surveillance.”

I touch Zack’s shoulder. “I can stay, too.”

Garner looks up from his keyboard. “I think we’ve pretty much got it covered.”

“There you go,” Zack says. “No need for you to stay late. Besides, you have someone waiting for you. Right?” His tone is teasing, playful, but an unmistakable sadness shadows his eyes.

You could have had someone waiting for you, too.

I’ve known from the beginning that Zack doesn’t love Sarah. But something keeps them together. I guess I was hoping that something would be enough. That Sarah would make him happy.

Obviously, she hasn’t.

My cell phone vibrates announcing a new text.
Hot vampire here with cold champagne. Awaiting your arrival. K.
Kallistos may not be perfect, but there’s an honesty about our no-strings-attached relationship that’s refreshing. We understand each other. We know what we want and accept what we can’t have. Kallistos may be complicated, but the arrangement we have isn’t. And it’s
such a damned relief not to have to watch every thought, every action.

Hot vampire here with cold champagne. Awaiting your arrival.

I don’t bother to answer Zack. He and Garner are busy chatting away. I just grab my purse and head for the elevator.

*   *   *

Day Two: Tuesday, September 3

I gave up trying to sleep long ago. The sun has yet to rise, but the city below is waking. From my vantage point on the sofa of the penthouse, I can see the outline of buildings. Random windows dotted with light shine like beacons against the dark blanket of the bay beyond.

My laptop sits open on the coffee table in front of me. Three images appear side by side on the screen—Julie Simmons, Hannah Clemons, and Sylvia Roberts. I wonder what kinds of sinister secrets those sunny smiles and sparkling eyes are masking. What I wouldn’t give right now to question just one of them.

I pour the last cup of coffee from the pot and walk out onto the balcony. The edges of my silk robe flutter in the predawn breeze. Two hundred dollars per week, per girl. No more. No less. Zack’s text confirming Hannah and Sylvia both received and deposited the same amount of money came while Kallistos and I were in the tub. It was around midnight when I noticed the message. Ever since, I’ve been chomping at the bit for more details. As soon as the sun comes up, I’m going to call Zack.

“Did you get any sleep?”

Kallistos encircles my waist with one arm.

“No.” I lean back against him and close my eyes. “I came out to the living room so I wouldn’t wake you.”

He sweeps my hair aside and kisses my neck. The gesture is tender, not passionate, not possessive. “I’m afraid I’ve grown used to having you in my bed. I miss you when you aren’t. I wish you’d reconsider and move in.”

I turn to face him. His chest and feet are bare. The fact that he’s wearing pajama bottoms is testament to the fact that we didn’t have mind-blowing sex to the point of passing out last night.

“You aren’t going soft on me, are you?” I ask him.

He tugs on the tie of my robe until it opens. Then he reaches for my hand and places it over his erection. “Does this feel like I’m going soft?”

“I wasn’t referring to your . . . equipment,” I say.

Kallistos cradles my head in his hands, then leans down for a kiss. He starts at the corner of my mouth before moving to my lower lip. “I know what you were referring to,” he murmurs, his breath warm and inviting. His hand presses firmly over my mound, fingers sliding across the silk of my gown to slip between my legs.

“This is supposed to be a relationship of convenience,” I remind him.

He pulls me hard against his body. His hand tangles in my hair at the base of my skull. He grabs hold and forces me to look into his eyes. I see anger, frustration, and something else, something I can’t quite identify. Regret?

“I’d find it more convenient to have you here all the time, to be able to fuck you anytime I want.”

I push him away and head inside. “Yeah, well, good luck with that.”

He follows me inside. “You think you’ve come to terms with it. But you haven’t.”

“Come to terms with what?” I’ve busied myself by gathering up the coffeepot and empty cup. By the time Kallistos answers, I’ve made it as far as the dining table.

“Not being able to have who you really want. Armstrong.”

It’s not said in anger or recrimination, but once the words spill from his lips I can’t seem to walk any farther.

The delicate china cup begins to rattle against the saucer. I look down. My hand is shaking. He takes the cup from me along with the pot and sets them on the table.

“Talk to me,” he says, pulling me back over to the sofa.

“I
can’t
. Not about this.”

“Are you afraid you’re going to hurt my feelings?”