Liam’s heart beat faster. “If the list is short enough, maybe we can prevent her from taking any more children.” A fraction of the two-ton weight he’d been carrying around on his shoulders seemed to lighten and drift off into the dark night.
A wicked smile flitted across Baba’s austere face, making her seem for a moment like some wild and dangerous beast out of legend. “Better yet,” she said, looking into Liam’s eyes, “if we can catch her in the act trying to steal another child, you get to keep your job. I can make her tell me where the doorway is, so I can tell the queen and get to keep my head. And the queen can make Maya give the missing children back. All we have to do is narrow down the list enough to figure out who her next target is, and we solve all our problems at once. And protect the child, at the same time.”
Liam gazed at her in the moonlight. “You’re a genius,” he said. And seized by an uncontrollable impulse, he put his hands on the side of her face, leaned in, and kissed her soundly. Pulled back, looked at the stunned expression on her face, and did it again. Her lips tasted like blackberry wine, felt soft like rose petals as they gave under his, and the elusive scent of orange blossoms floated through the air like nature made manifest.
Stepping back, he grinned at her, ridiculously pleased by the mixture of shock and pleasure he could see in her wide amber eyes. He was a little shocked himself by the strength of the longing that surged through his body, and had to fight the impulse to put her up against the closest wall and claim those lips and everything that came with them.
“Try to get some sleep,” he said in a rough voice over his shoulder as he walked to his car. “I’ll come over tomorrow when I can get away from work, and we’ll see if we can come up with some kind of a plan, depending on what information I’ve been able to gather from the pictures.”
In his rearview mirror, he could see Baba standing where he left her, one slim hand touching her mouth as if to hold on to the sensation he’d left there.
EIGHTEEN
THE MEMORY OF the look on Baba’s face kept Liam going through the long day that followed. Like the previous days, he waded through stacks of ever-accumulating paperwork whenever he got back into the office, instead of being out chasing after elusive, impossible crimes. But unlike the days before it, this one was occasionally broken up by flashes of memory like lightning that jolted briefly through the mundane annoyances: the feel of Baba’s skin beneath his hands, softer than silk; her quick intake of breath when he’d kissed her the first time, the slightest hint of a response from her rose-petal lips when he’d kissed her again. Those magical eyes, which seemed to cast a spell on him even when they were nowhere near.
Nina gave him a funny look when she’d brought his lunch in, asking if he was coming down with something. He’d smiled and said no. But maybe he was. That would explain the strange fever in his blood. Of course, as always, he’d simply blamed it on stress and not enough sleep. That made more sense than anything else he could put into words.
He was finally grabbing a late supper in a nearly deserted Bertie’s, when he got a call telling him he was needed at the emergency room in the West Dunville hospital. Someone reporting an assault, the dispatcher said. Liam pressed for more information, visualizing a crowd of irate locals and a battered and bloody Baba. But the night dispatcher, neither as efficient nor as helpful as Nina, didn’t know anything more. Just that Liam had been requested by name.
He waved an urgent hand at his waitress, signaling her to bring him the check, but Bertie herself came out of the kitchen to plop the remains of his turkey, avocado, and bacon sandwich in a to-go box and give him a scowl that was only partially due to the insult to her carefully prepared food.
“Looks like something’s up, Sheriff. Not another disappearance, I hope,” the older woman said, drying chapped red hands on a sauce-stained apron.
Her short-cropped gray hair bristled as stiff as her manner, but what she lacked in charm she made up for in both her cooking skills and the care with which she fed the people who entered her front door. Barbara might even call it magic, Liam thought, wanting to be gone.
“No,” he said shortly. “Nothing like that. There’s been a report of an assault victim from the hospital. I have to go check it out.”
He handed her a twenty and waved away the change. He knew Bertie probably would have closed up already if he hadn’t come in. As it was, the lone remaining waitress was putting the chairs up on the tables as they spoke, weariness dragging at her sneaker-clad feet.
Bertie’s plain, mannish face crinkled with concern. “Not anyone we know, I hope.” Of course, she knew almost everyone, so that was unlikely. Her eyes widened. “It’s not that poor herbalist they’re calling a witch, is it? I told that ignorant lout O’Shaunnessy that he was being an ass when he was in here earlier shooting off his mouth. Like folks need any help getting more riled up, what with everything that’s been happening.”
Liam’s stomach pulled itself into intricate knots that would have made his Boy Scout leader proud. “Thanks, Bertie,” he said, grabbing his hat and pushing it down onto his head. “I’ve got to go. You’re the best.”
She snorted at him, pushing him toward the door. “You just say that because you don’t have anything to compare me to. One of these days, you’re gonna have to get yourself another woman.”
Right, Liam thought. That was exactly what his life needed right now. He slid into the squad car, flipped on the siren, and raced off toward West Dunville, praying that the one woman who could never be his was not at the other end of his journey.
* * *
LIAM FORCED HIMSELF to walk at his usual measured pace as he entered the hospital emergency intake area. He nodded at the clerk sitting there, a woman he knew slightly from around town.
“Hey, Louise,” he said. “I got a call that you had an assault victim here who was asking for me. You know anything about that?”
The woman nodded, her professional manner slipping to show disgust for a moment before she regained her poise. “It’s a terrible thing when a woman isn’t safe to walk the streets at night, Sheriff. I’m glad they called you in. Not everyone does, you know.” She shook her head and pointed at the door to the back area, hitting a buzzer to allow him through.
Damn, he thought as he moved in the direction of voices. I should have made her go home with me last night. Or put her in police custody. Something. This is my fault. The fact that Baba wouldn’t have put up with any of that didn’t make him feel any better. There was nothing worse than not being able to keep those you cared for safe. Nothing.
Liam pulled back the curtain over the only occupied bay to be faced by a completely unexpected sight.
The woman in the bed was battered and bruised; one eye almost completely closed, the cheekbone underneath it swollen. Various spots on her bare arms showed a turbulent rainbow of mottled black and blue and green that clashed with the red from her bloody nose. But her hair was an icy fall of platinum blonde, and the untouched eye shone a bright, innocent blue instead of the cloud of black and mysterious amber he had been expecting.
“Ms. Freeman!” he said, shocked and relieved in equal measure. “I was told someone had called me in on an assault case. I’m guessing that would be you.” He pulled out his notebook and a pen, feeling vaguely guilty by how grateful he was that the pathetic figure in the bed was Maya, and not Baba. “Are you up to telling me what happened?”
Liam had been so focused on Maya, he’d barely taken in the presence of the other people in the room. But his sense of relief evaporated rapidly as he took in Clive Matthews standing on one side of the bed, and Peter Callahan on the other, sitting in a chair, holding an oversized bouquet of flowers in a pretentious crystal vase.
“Actually,” Callahan said, rising and looking around for someplace in the Spartan space of the emergency room bay to put the roses. Finally, he gave up and set them down on the chair he’d vacated. �
�I’m the one who called you. Miss Freeman was hesitant to bring the law into this matter, but I told her she had no choice. That woman cannot be allowed to stay at large. Not after this.”
Liam blinked, gazing from Maya to Callahan and back again, although he was pretty sure he knew exactly which woman she meant. “I’m sorry, I’m confused. What woman?” He turned to Maya. “Are you saying a woman did this to you?”
Maya looked up at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears she dabbed at with a handkerchief. She practically radiated an aura of virtue and honesty; one which Liam almost bought, even knowing better as he did. The other two men were clearly mesmerized by her fragile, damaged beauty.
“It was Barbara Yager,” Maya said in a soft, hesitant voice. “She attacked me as I was getting out of my car in the parking lot behind the apartment I’m renting in town.” One big blue eye focused on Liam accusingly. “I told you she was stalking me, but you didn’t take me seriously.”
“This is on your head,” Callahan blustered, big hands clenched in fists at his side as he hovered protectively over Maya’s bed. “You were told that Ms. Yager was harassing my assistant, but you did nothing about it. And now look what’s happened! I expect that woman to be arrested immediately.”
Liam had a momentary vision of Baba, her face suffused with anger at the thought of children being snatched away from their parents and sold to the highest bidder in the place she called the Otherworld. There was no question in his mind that she could have done this. She was bigger and stronger than Maya, and he had no doubt she was capable of fighting like a cornered panther if she had to. But attacking Maya had never been a part of their plan. Besides, as furious as Baba might get, he couldn’t envision her risking those missing children simply for the chance to hurt someone who had pissed her off.
No, Baba hadn’t done this. Which meant that either someone else had and Maya had taken the opportunity to put the blame on Baba, or worse, Maya had somehow staged this in order to get Baba thrown in jail. Maybe Maya had figured out somehow that they’d been in Callahan’s office, and had gone on the offensive before they could use the information they’d found there.
Either way, he was in a lousy position now. And from the gleam in the tiny woman’s uninjured eye, she knew it. A martyred sigh oozed malice in his direction.
“I’m afraid I am going to have to press charges,” Maya said, a sad expression on her bruised face. “Otherwise I would just be living in terror that she would come after me again.”
Liam made sure his own expression was neutral and professional before he spoke. “Not that I’m doubting your story, Ms. Freeman, but why would Barbara Yager have attacked you so brutally? Did you do something to provoke her?”
Callahan gritted his teeth. “The woman is crazy. She didn’t need a reason. Everyone in town is talking about how she is selling phony herbal remedies to people in need. She’s clearly a con artist.”
“Actually, she’s a professor,” Liam corrected him in a calm, even tone. “And my investigation into the problem with the medicines she sold turned up evidence that a third party had been interfering with the remedies after people had taken them home.” He purposely didn’t look at Maya when he said it.
“I don’t care if she’s the Queen of Sheba,” Callahan shouted, a purple vein pulsing madly in his forehead. “She doesn’t get to attack an innocent woman. I want her arrested immediately, or I’ll have your job!”
Privately, Liam thought it was a little late for that threat, a supposition that was reinforced a moment later when Clive Matthews stepped in too close and said, chest puffed up like a Bantam rooster’s, “Make sure you take a couple of deputies with you. We don’t want her to get away.”
Then Matthews fixed his beady eyes on Liam’s uniform and added with a sneer, “Surely even you can manage to capture one unarmed woman. I trust that I can depend on you to do your job and protect the people of this county from a dangerous criminal. After all, there’s a first time for everything.”
* * *
LIAM PULLED HIS cruiser into the space in front of the Airstream, its silver bullet shape glistening in the light of the tangerine moon overhead. Two deputies in a second car edged in behind him, choking a little on his dust as they got out, the road as dry as a desert from the summer’s unusual heat despite the storm earlier in the week. One, a youngster with the whitewall crew cut of a guy who spent his weekends training with the National Guard, let his hand hover over his service weapon until Liam glared at him.
“I don’t care what you’ve heard,” Liam said to him, including the older deputy with a sideways glance, “but the woman we’ve come to question is a respected professional, and I expect you to treat her like one unless I tell you otherwise. Is that clear?”
Stu, the younger of the two, rolled his eyes. Butch, who’d been on the force for over twenty years, just shrugged. As long as he got home to his dinner on time and nobody took a shot at him, he was a happy man.
Liam looked around and spotted both the silver truck and the BMW, which had miraculously been restored to all of its former glory. He made a mental note not to ask how she’d managed that. And cursed a little under his breath, since he’d been hoping that Baba would be out when they got there. Somehow he didn’t think she was going to take it well when he informed her that he had no choice but to arrest her.
Settling his hat more firmly on his head, he walked up to the door and knocked briskly. Behind him, the two deputies stood like a uniformed wall of menace, as if they were about to confront a band of bank robbers instead of one slightly eccentric traveling herbalist.
The door creaked open slowly, and a tousled white head poked cautiously around the edge.
“Hello?” a querulous voice said. “Can I help you gentlemen with something?”
The woman attached to the voice was so old, she looked like she’d been around when dirt was invented. Her back was bent in a dowager’s hump, and her hair was as white and fluffy as a puff of dandelion. Wrinkles slid in layers down her cheeks and neck, disappearing into the lacy blue shawl tied over her drooping bosom. A strong gust of wind might have blown her over, which probably explained the way one age-spotted hand clung to the door. The other was wrapped around a wooden cane as gnarled as the fingers that clutched it, its head in the shape of a roaring dragon.
Liam blinked rapidly, recognizing the little old lady he’d caught a glimpse of that first day in his rearview mirror. Maybe she lived nearby, and he’d somehow never met her. Some of the older folks in the backcountry had an innate distrust of the law and tended to avoid strangers.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Liam said. “I’m looking for the lady who lives in this Airstream, Ms. Yager. Is she home?”
The ancient crone gazed at him with cloudy eyes that still managed to shoot sparks in his direction. “Miss Yager? You mean Dr. Yager, don’t you?” She shook her head, wisps of dandelion hair floating around her crumpled face. “You young people. No respect these days.” She made a tsking noise that reminded Liam of a particularly terrifying third-grade teacher. Behind him, he could hear Stu shifting uneasily, and had to stifle a laugh.
“My apologies. Dr. Yager, yes. Is she at home?” This was not going at all the way he’d expected it to. Of course, he was dealing with Baba. Why was he surprised? “And can you tell us who you are, please, ma’am?”
His good manners seemed to appease the old woman, and she opened the door a little wider. “I’m a distant relative of Dr. Yager’s,” she said in her light, high, birdlike voice. “I’m passing through the area and stopped by for a visit. But I’m afraid she’s out at the moment, collecting herbs. She says there are a few that work better if they are collected under the light of the moon. Why don’t you run along now and come back later when she’s home?” She made a shooing gesture and started to close the door, arthritic hand trembling with the effort.
Butch took an assertive step for
ward, thrusting his gut past where Liam was taking up most of the front step. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’re under orders. I’m afraid we’re going to have to come in and check to make sure Miz—I mean Dr.—Yager isn’t in there.”
Her lower lip quivered, making Liam feel like a cad. But there was no way the deputies were going to let him just walk away from the trailer without searching it for Baba. They had a warrant, and no doubt, special instructions from Clive Matthews to make sure Liam did his job.
“Don’t worry, ma’am,” he said in a gentle tone, speaking a little loudly in case she was hard of hearing. “We’ll just come in, prove to ourselves she isn’t here, and then we’ll leave you alone.”
Thin lips pressed together, she nodded at him and opened the door the rest of the way. “Very well,” she said. “But mind you wipe your feet. I won’t abide a lot of mud tracked in on these beautiful carpets.”
The three law officers trooped in, dutifully wiping their feet, and Liam watched with amusement as the other two gaped, openmouthed, as they looked around at the luxurious interior with its rich fabrics and glorious blues, and crimsons, and greens. The place looked as neat and tidy as always. There was no sign of Baba.
Chudo-Yudo crawled out from underneath the banquette table, and Stu nearly shot him.
“Jesus Christ! What the hell is that thing?” he asked, his gun suddenly wavering in his hand.
Liam sighed. “That thing is Dr. Yager’s dog, and I think she would object to you shooting him. Put your damned gun away; he’s not going to hurt you.” He made a point of going over to pat Chudo-Yudo on the head.
“Feel free to poke around if you have to,” the old woman said, waving one skinny arm toward the back of the Airstream. “Can I make you boys some tea?”
Wickedly Dangerous Page 19
