by Ken Lange
Hotard huffed as he flattened his uniform shirt against his massive belly. “That may be, but as I told your boy—”
Andrew cut in. “His name is Isidore. Don’t disrespect him again.” He let the threat hang.
Hotard blanched, and his hands shook with nerves, or anger, or both. “Fine. As I told Isidore, we need the space for actual police business.”
Andrew stared holes through the little man. “You realize it’s only a matter of time before a new vigil is appointed.”
Hotard puffed out his chest, and his jowls shook with every word. “I... We at the NOPD don’t believe we’ll be needing the assistance of a vigil in the future.”
The dark look that crossed Andrew’s face should’ve terrified the prick. His voice could’ve cut diamonds when he spoke. “Oh, really?”
Hotard apparently hadn’t noticed the change in my uncle and continued with his rehearsed speech. “I think we can get by very well on our own. We thank you for your assistance, but it’s no longer required.”
Andrew stepped forward, slamming a finger into the man’s pudgy chest, causing his man boobs to jiggle and Hotard to cough as the air was forced out of his lungs. “You forget your place.”
Sonia stepped back so quickly she tripped over one of the boxes.
Andrew’s voice was quiet and hard. “I’ve put up with your arrogance and ineptitude out of respect for your grandfather.” He loomed over the much smaller man, forcing Hotard to strain his neck to look up at my uncle. “He’s long since passed, and you’d do well to remember that my authority far exceeds yours.”
Hotard stepped back, shaking, causing his big belly to bounce. His face was a putrid purplish-red. “If you’re going to insist on a new vigil, I demand we have a hand in choosing him.”
Andrew’s ability to humor the little fat man was fading quickly. “Have you lost your mind?” He looked into the man’s eyes and shook his head. “Someone’s been filling your head with ideas, Bryan. Who?”
Hotard glared at the floor as he backpedaled to the door, with Sonia right behind him. “That’s not important. Stay out of my head, Andrew! I’m warning you.”
And that was it. Andrew had finally had enough. “Bryan, you should leave now. You should forget whatever line of shit someone’s feeding you, and realize that being the captain of the UCD, in your case, is purely ceremonial. If you challenge me on this, I swear I’ll destroy you and everything you hold dear. Am I clear?”
Hotard reached behind him with a pudgy hand, gripping the doorknob as he sneered at Andrew. “You can only do that if you’re still in charge of things.” Sonia was out the door when he turned halfway around and looked back at my uncle. “That may change soon, now that Martha’s no longer here to protect you.”
Hotard was gone before Andrew could make a reasonable reply. Clearly, the captain thought he knew something we didn’t.
We followed them out a few minutes later to lock the gates. Returning, we lugged a dozen-plus boxes to the apartment, until the living room was crowded with boxes filled with what appeared to be random files. When they’d been in file cabinets, they’d undoubtedly been well organized. They were highly detailed, precisely marked, and easy to follow. Whoever had emptied her office didn’t care that they’d probably destroyed years of work in the process.
Andrew quickly grew frustrated and waved a hand at the sapphire. The thin, blue-mist version of Martha appeared a few feet in front of the desk. She looked only slightly better than the first time.
Andrew’s face fell as he watched her standing there, and he spoke softly. “Evening, Martha.”
She gave Andrew a kind look then her face dropped when she saw the boxes on the floor. “I see Bryan didn’t waste any time ransacking my office.”
Andrew’s face darkened. “Clearly.”
Martha’s form pulsed and glitched in place. “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, but you need to go through the files. I’ve been working on a series of murders all across the country…” Her voice broke and reverberated for a moment. “They’re somehow related to you.” She looked at Andrew with fear in her eyes. “Someone’s coming for you.”
She shimmered and vanished from sight.
Terrific. Someone had to go and piss in the Cheerios right after we threw the police out on their asses. Not that they would’ve been a ton of help anyway. Captain Hotard appeared to be incompetent, and Sonia was little more than a thug. Which meant we were going to have to figure this out ourselves in order to save Andrew’s life.
With her warning, we set to work sifting through her files, searching for a clue as to who was after my uncle. They were such a jumbled mess that it was hard to know where to start. At some point, we just grabbed a box and worked our way through it before moving onto the next.
Chapter 9
Sunday May 31st
When I woke, the need for more rest was nearly overwhelming, but the aches and pains from sleeping on such a soft mattress told me it was well past time to get up. I checked my watch: five minutes to five. Three hours would have to do. I’d left Andrew in the living room after helping him pull two rolling blackboards out of a storage closet. He’d promised to get some sleep, but even as he said it, I doubted he meant it.
A half hour later, I found myself in the kitchen, where a plate of lukewarm eggs and dry toast was waiting on me. After making short work of breakfast, I headed for the living room in search of Andrew, but as I turned the corner, I froze, awestruck.
While I’d slept, Andrew had lined up the blackboards next to one another. He’d affixed newspaper clippings and numerous notes to the boards with tape. On top of the papers he’d attached his own notes on bright yellow Post-its. Long white lines ran between different articles, while blue scribbled text explained why they were relevant to one another. It appeared that a dozen of the deaths were connected, but I couldn’t figure out how they involved Andrew.
Taking my eyes off the boards, I found Andrew at the table working on my computer. Frustrated, he stopped typing, picked up a clipping, read it, and set it aside before starting again. Clearly, whatever was coming up on the screen wasn’t helpful since he growled and grabbed another to start the process over again.
I’d made it halfway to the table before I announced myself. “I’m guessing you didn’t go to bed.”
Andrew barely acknowledged my presence as he waved me over. “Not yet.” He pulled a sheet of paper off the table and read it carefully as he glanced back at the screen. “I’m trying to fit all this together.”
The room was covered in papers and open boxes. “You really need to get some rest.”
Ignoring my comment, he walked over to the farthest chalkboard and taped up the article in his hand. He drew a line between it and the nearest file before scribbling an explanation in blue chalk.
Andrew reluctantly tore his attention away from the boards. Exhaustion was plain in his eyes. “I’ll get some rest soon. I’m close to something. I can feel it.”
Putting a hand on the old man’s shoulder, I shook my head. “You said that at one-thirty this morning.” Pulling him away from the blackboard, I forced Andrew to keep his attention on me as I tried to make myself clear. “Go crawl into bed and get a few hours of sack time before you lose your mind.”
Andrew stared at the articles in frustration. “Someone is apparently pretty serious about wanting me dead, and you want me to get some sleep?” He gave me a withering glance before turning back to his work. “You might see how I find that counterproductive.”
He did have a valid point, and the scene was more than a little overwhelming. During my career, I’d mostly skipped the investigative part of the job and done the hands-on work. Even so, I liked to think I could figure this out and piece the puzzle together in his absence for a couple hours.
I fixed a hard look on Andrew and tried a slightly different tack. “Give me a chance to run through this without you. I might see something you didn’t. Get some sleep, and come back with a fresh set of eyes.”<
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Andrew hung his head, and grumbled, “I suppose a few hours wouldn’t do any harm.” He shuffled off toward his room. “Don’t let me sleep too long. I need to be here.”
“I won’t.”
Andrew closed the door behind him. It was only then that I realized he hadn’t given me a clue how he’d sorted all this shit. Oh well. I’d have to figure it out on my own and hope for the best.
I grabbed an empty notebook off the table, walked around the room, and scribbled notes about each of the piles then headed back to the computer.
Martha was very organized—most of the articles were listed in chronological order—but the confusing part was the leaps she’d made to connect different events over the last fifty years. I spent the next two hours compiling information and sorting through the chalkboards before adding more clippings to the opposite sides. Three hours later, I was beginning to see the pattern Martha had found. I still wasn’t sure I understood, but I had a theory I’d need to confirm with Andrew when he woke up. There was a bit of good news for him, though: his death was only a means to an end. Also, there was a significant wrinkle in their plan, and that was me.
I was in the kitchen making lunch when Andrew dragged himself through the door and collapsed in the nearest chair. “What are you making?”
“Leftover pizza. Want some?”
Andrew glanced back toward the living room before turning his attention to me. “Sure.” He thumbed back at the door. “I saw some progress when I came through. Anything of interest?”
Putting a plate in front of my uncle, I took a nervous breath. “I think so, but I need more information before I can confirm anything.”
“I’m sure we’ll find it in the papers given enough time.”
I furrowed my forehead, and pointed at him. “I need information from you.”
Andrew shook his head. “What do you think I know that isn’t out there?”
I pointed toward the far side of the house. “The stones down the hall.”
He blinked. “What about them?”
I grimaced, not really knowing where to start. “Can you please explain the rules surrounding them? For instance, you said no one can touch either of ours while we’re still alive, but what about the rest of them?”
He frowned. “I don’t see how that relates to my current problem… You know, the one where people are trying to kill me.”
Sighing, I held up a hand for patience. “If you’d humor me for a few minutes, I’ll explain everything.”
Annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Fine… When a Stone Born dies, one of their living relatives stores their stone for future use.”
“But what if there isn’t a living relative, like Martha?”
Andrew shrugged. “She could give it to someone. Like me, for instance. I don’t understand how this is important. I told you before we have next to forever to figure all that out. That is, unless someone kills me in the meantime.”
Closing my eyes, I pushed my impatience down. “I’m getting to the important part if you’ll just bear with me a bit longer.” Yep, I still sounded like an asshole. “If you died, could someone walk in and take possession of the other stones?”
He shook his head. “Not while you’re alive…” Realization etched itself across his features. “You think they’re after them?”
I sat down and looked at my uncle, who was fully awake now. “What would happen to someone who touched one of our gemstones if I was still alive?”
Andrew winced at the idea. “They’d suffer greatly before having their body torn apart at a cellular level and sprayed across the room.”
Well, wasn’t that a pleasant thought. “I’m guessing not a lot of people know about me?”
Andrew shook his head. “Not really. You were always either at school or simply gone.”
That made sense, even if it was depressing. “And who knows about that room?”
He thought about it and frowned. “There was Martha, myself, and now you… It’s not like I advertise the place.”
“Is there any chance Walter would know?”
Andrew slapped his hand against the table. “Not a chance in hell, especially since I built it after our falling out.”
I pulled a small notebook out of my back pocket, and tossed it to him. “Martha guessed that someone found out about the stones when my father had them. It stands to reason that you’d get them once he died.”
Andrew frowned. “That’s unlikely. Zack was fiercely protective of them, and with the way he felt about Walter, there’s no way he showed them to him…or anyone else outside the family.”
No matter how much I wanted to pin this on the asshole, it was looking less and less likely.
Several of the abductions had happened in different places around the globe at nearly the same time. Which meant we weren’t dealing with an individual, but a group with a single goal, and that was to acquire as many of the stones as possible. For what purpose, I didn’t have a clue, but I intended to find out.
I growled in frustration. “You said something interesting last night when you were talking to Bryan. Someone was feeding him information…or something like that. Any idea who that might be?”
Andrew’s expression soured. “Nope, and neither does he. All I could pick up was a distorted voice from a computer… There were some photos and other documents that meant nothing to me but were important to him.” He got to his feet. “What’s on your mind?”
I gestured at the door. “Let’s walk and talk.”
He followed me into the hall.
Taking a breath, I said, “I think we’re looking at a group of people who believe that you’re the last living heir in the Randall household. Now that I’m in the picture, they’ll either give up or try to kill us both.”
Andrew huffed. “That’s not at all depressing.”
“It gets worse.”
He grunted. “How’s that possible?”
I ran a hand over the top of my head. “Well, other than Stone Born, they’ve only targeted enchanters.” Pointing at a couple of the articles, I continued. “And they’re not killed straightaway. From what I’ve been able to piece together, they hold them for a couple of months prior to killing them.” I pulled out a half-dozen files and plopped them onto the table. “As you can see, this has been going on for nearly five decades now.”
Andrew leafed through the files. A few minutes later, he pushed them aside and sighed. “All this over the stones? I can’t figure out why, or what they’d gain by having them.”
I collapsed into the nearest chair. “Well, that sucks. I was hoping you’d have an ah-ha moment and we’d have something to run with.”
His face was blank. “Not a clue…sorry.”
Frowning, I gestured at the files. “There’s more.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “More what?”
“Bad news.” I lifted one of the files and handed it to him. “I think they’re kidnapping enchanters to bypass the enchantments created by someone else…like you, for instance.”
Andrew shook his head. “The penalties for doing such a thing are so steep that there aren’t many people who’d willingly consider it.”
I barely resisted the urge to say duh. “That’s probably why they’re being abducted and held—to torture the cooperation out of them.”
He cupped his face in his hands. “Goddamn it.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Andrew lifted his gaze to mine. “Anything else?”
I fished a photo out of the file I’d been holding and handed it to him. “Any idea who this is?”
Andrew rubbed his chin. “It’s possible I’ve seen him, but I don’t have a clue who he is. Why?”
I produced a receipt and slid it across the table. “His name was Neil Nunez, and he was a former client of George’s. He was stabbed through the heart while wearing one of the enchanted shirts.”
Andrew shook his head. “You must have the facts wrong, because that would be impossible.”
He frowned. “How’s that?”
“You created a number of tools that George uses to cut and sew the cloth you’ve previously enchanted.”
Andrew huffed. “That’s different—”
Cutting in, I asked, “How?”
He shook his head. “Because I created those enchantments, and they’re impossible to duplicate.”
I sighed. “They wouldn’t have to duplicate your work. They’d only have to be able to negate it.”
He picked up the receipt and shook his head. “You really think someone created a weapon that can pierce my glyphs?”
“I do.”
Rage rolled through his eyes. “And you believe they killed a man to test their handiwork.”
My gaze hit the floor as I nodded. “I’m sorry to say that’s exactly what I believe.” Taking a deep breath, I leaned over and patted his arm. “Martha seemed to think they made a breakthrough with their last abductee…Aaron Lopez, an enchanter out of Honduras who went missing a little over a year ago.”
Andrew glanced back at the board. “So, what now?”
I got to my feet and picked up Aaron’s photo. “If he’s still alive, we need to find this man. In the meantime, we should proceed with caution.”
Andrew furrowed his brow. “I suppose you’re right.” He blew out a long breath and shook his head. “I’m sorry about all this. Being mixed up in a murder plot was probably the last thing you wanted to do when you got home.”
I laughed. “It was the last thing I expected, but it’s nothing to worry about. In fact, you should be happy because this is something I can fix.”
Andrew scowled. “Fix? How’s that going to work?” He gestured at me. “You said you’ve pushed papers for the last twenty-eight years…how has that prepared you to hunt murderers?”
That spot in the back of my head started to itch, and I frowned. “You really don’t want me to answer that question.” A weight fell onto my soul, and I sighed. “There are many things about my life I don’t want to discuss…but if it helps, I may’ve exaggerated my paper-pushing abilities.”
