“I can get him a message,” Brooke said.
“Perfect. Have him call me.”
“Grace, is everything okay? Like, with Emma?”
“I hope so, kid.”
About four seconds after hanging up, I started having doubts about my decision to contact Logan.
What was I thinking? I was just proving Boyle right, wasn’t I?
Screw it. Boyle already believed I was a criminal, probably a mutant criminal.
Still, did I really want to get Logan and by extension, Sartori, involved?
If it meant I’d find a way to help Emma, yes.
What was I going to say to Kai?
CHAPTER 18
There had to be something I could do to take my mind off worrying while I waited for Logan to call.
I looked out at the Atlantic, longing to go for a mind-clearing walk. Not an option, what with murderers lurking about.
My leg jiggled up and down as my body tried to burn off restless energy.
I glanced around at all the dozing animals. Moss had woven himself around the table’s legs and was sprawled at my feet, and Nelly, eyes half closed, contentedly chewed her cud in the shade of one of the large potted palms while Roscoe snoozed on the cushion of the chaise longue.
Voodoo was dead to the world in my lap.
I could always hitch a mental ride with one of them. Zone out for a while.
The thought had some appeal, though considering my state of mind, could just as easily backfire and have the opposite effect. I didn’t want to foist my agitation on anyone else nor did I want to witness the havoc the animals could wreak if they got restless. Best I kept my brain to myself.
Maybe I could go to the dojo and hit the heavy bag? The complex’s garages were detached, forming a solid wall between the condo’s lot and A1A.
Surely I could make it across the parking lot safely. Especially with a Saint Johns deputy parked near the entrance. I could even go let him know I was headed to the garage for a little while.
I lifted Voodoo from my lap, intending to set her next to Moss to continue napping but before I could do so she stirred, tangled one paw in my hair, and started biting and batting it with sleepy, kitty glee.
Okay, let’s go see if the deputy is still on watch.
I closed out the file then removed the USB stick and shut my laptop.
Tucking the USB stick in my back pocket, I carried the notepad and laptop in one arm and Voodoo in the other.
I’d left the door open to let the condo air out after my cleaning spree. But too much sea air was hard on everything from electronics to cabinetry.
With my elbow, I slid the door closed with a rasping thunk.
Moss hardly registered our departure, which said something for his level of sleepiness.
I set my laptop and notebook on the corner of the island and began to unwind Voodoo from my hair.
The peephole in the front door wouldn’t give me a view of the parking lot. In fact, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to see past the stairs even if I broke the rules and stuck my head out the door.
The only windows facing that way were in the laundry room and small, adjacent bath. Knowing I’d have to climb onto the washer and dryer to see out the laundry room window, I headed for the bath.
The potted plants Kai and I had relocated turned the space into a mini-jungle, much to Voodoo’s delight. I set the kitten on the floor to explore while I headed to the window. Its opaque glass was patterned like some shower enclosures, but it opened a few inches. Not much of a view, but I could see the parking lot. The Saint Johns County police car was gone.
Dang it!
Kai had sent me a text with the deputy’s name and warned me that the man would have to leave if he got a call.
No dojo. No beach walk. Did Emma still have her yoga DVDs?
I snapped the window closed and nudged Voodoo away from a large fern.
Scoot, kid.
“We’re going to do some downward dog.”
She scampered off in front of me but just as I was stepping into the hall the kitten came running back.
Alarm rippled from her like heat from a mirage.
Here’s a little food for thought about cats: If they were inclined to take on the task, cats would make better watchdogs than most dogs. They hear and, in most cases, see better than dogs and are generally more sensitive to unusual sounds.
The problem is, even if they cared enough to bother—and let’s be honest, we’re talking about cats here—felines can’t bark, which makes it difficult to warn of an intruder.
Unless you happen to be telepathic.
Man! Voodoo shot past me in a blur of frightened fur.
What? I asked, confused.
Man! She repeated the word along with the image of a pair of dark boots and pant legs. I let out a squeak, scooped the kitten into my arms, slammed and locked the bathroom door.
All in all, not the smartest move. I was now stuck in the small room with no way out and nothing but a toilet brush and some attractive foliage to use as a weapon.
If I opened the window I could yell for the cop or better yet, send out a mental distress call to Moss.
I was readying to do so when someone on the other side of the door said, “Grace?”
Even over my pounding heart I recognized the voice.
“Logan?”
Still clutching Voodoo to my chest, I opened the door.
“You rang?” It was a passable impersonation of Lurch, but I wasn’t amused.
“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
And why hadn’t Moss warned me of Logan’s presence?
A quick mental check told me my dog was completely conked out. I relaxed slightly.
Logan must have come through the front door. Had I left it unlocked?
“How did you get in here?”
“I’m more interested in how you knew I was here. You knew I was in your truck, too. How?”
“I’m psychic,” I said drily.
His gaze flicked over me in a way that made me want to squirm and I suddenly became aware of how much bigger than me he was. Being someone who didn’t like to show weakness and still embarrassed by the pathetic squeak I’d made when I realized someone was in the house, I made myself step forward. The move left Logan with two options—he could either move to let me pass or stay and make me bump into him.
Logan stepped back a fraction. Far enough to let me into the hall, but just barely.
The dim light of the hall seemed to accentuate his size.
Maybe I was a foot shorter and holding nothing more than a kitten but I wouldn’t be intimidated in my own hallway, dammit.
I glared up at him. “Are you finished?”
“Finished?”
“Looming.”
He quirked a brow and let several seconds tick by before taking a step back. I brushed past him and started down the hall. I’d have to get a handle on my nerves before Moss woke up. I wouldn’t want my dog to take a bite out of Logan.
Then again, maybe I did. It would be nothing less than he deserved.
I put Voodoo on the love seat where she liked to sleep and looked out the sliding glass doors. Moss was still fast asleep on the back deck.
“Some guard dog,” I muttered to myself.
“Nice goat,” Logan said, coming up behind me.
“Thanks.” I turned to face him. “I’m sure you know that’s not why I contacted you. I wanted to show you this.” I handed him the notepad with a list of names. “The men who’ve been following me are on there somewhere. I want to know who they are.”
“Where did you get these names?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just tell me what I need to know.”
“You’re not going to stop, are you?”
“No.�
�
“Tell me where you got the names.”
I shook my head.
He tossed the pad onto the counter.
“No source, no intel.”
“They’re from a file on Tony Ortega.”
“May I see it?”
“Just tell me what you know. Please.”
Logan crossed his arms. Waited.
Finally, he said, “One of the first rules of negotiation: Know what’s at stake and he with the least at stake, wins.”
We both knew I was the one with the most to lose.
“I’ll show you the file. After you tell me everything you know about Mr. Jingles. He’s the one with the Greek-sounding accent.”
“His name is Erjon Hoxha, and he’s not Greek, he’s Albanian.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s all I know.”
I didn’t buy it, but it was clear he wasn’t going to tell me more until I showed him my source, so I turned on my laptop, plugged in the USB stick and opened the encrypted file.
“This list has some interesting contacts. Your brother-in-law was mixed up with some bad people.”
“Does that mean I should give this to the police, to prove Tony had contacts with whoever?”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“No one on this list was caught standing over his body.”
“What about Mr. Jingles, Hoxha,” I corrected. “Or Cowboy?”
“What about them?”
“You promised to tell me what you know, Logan.”
“I tell you what, give me this USB drive, and I’ll see what I can do to put Hoxha and Cowboy in the right hands.”
“Not mine to give.”
“Then I can’t help you.”
“Okay. Deal. But only after Emma’s cleared.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He laid a key on the counter. “You shouldn’t hide a spare key outside. It’s too easy for the wrong person to find it.”
He turned and walked out the door.
Damn.
Not only had I contacted Logan, I’d just made a deal with him.
What else could I do?
Time was running out. I didn’t exactly trust Logan, but I didn’t think he was lying.
• • •
After Logan left, I spent time pacing around, chewing on my lip, and worrying.
Pointless.
There was no laundry to do, so I decided to clean out the fridge. It didn’t take nearly long enough.
I sat on the couch next to where Voodoo was tottering over the cushions and tried to find some inner calm.
The kitten attempted to leap from the couch to the coffee table and didn’t quite make it. She did, however, manage to snag the magazine with her claws and pull it down on top of herself.
Bubba! Panicked, she sped off toward Moss, seeking protection from the scary paper thing that had attacked her.
He gave her a reassuring lick and, courage restored, she bounded out of sight.
Kittens are such adorable, manic little things.
I bent to retrieve the magazine. It had fallen open to the often-studied photo of Jasmine and Heart.
Sighing, I looked at the ad and wondered what would happen if I failed.
Would whoever took Heart hurt him? Had they already?
My phone rang and I snatched it up, desperate to derail that train of thought.
“We found the vet’s car,” Jake’s gruff voice rumbled over the line.
“Yeah?”
“We’re bringing the two guys in right now.”
“That’s great, Jake.” Logan had kept his word. I wasn’t surprised, per se, just shocked that he’d done it so quickly. Which made me wonder what was on the USB drive that he wanted.
“Grace?” Jake said. “You listening?”
“Sorry. What?”
“I know you’re thinking this means Emma’s in the clear.”
“It doesn’t?”
“Thugs like this, sometimes they want to talk, sometimes they don’t. Just sayin’, don’t count your chickens.”
“Chickens?”
A flash of insight hit me.
“You know,” Jake said, “before they hatch.”
“Right. Thanks, Jake,” I said in a rush and hung up.
“Chickens,” I muttered then closed my eyes and tried to remember the details of what Nelly had shown me.
Heart, in a pasture. Pine trees. A barn. And what I’d thought were chicken coops.
Not chickens. Guineas.
On impulse, I started to call Kai then remembered he wouldn’t be able to answer so sent him a text instead.
I know who has Heart! I went on to explain briefly and asked him to call when he had a few minutes to talk.
I was sure I knew where Heart was, and therefore, who’d taken him, but I still didn’t know why.
I tried calling Jasmine, and when she didn’t pick up, left her a message to call me back.
Walking out onto the deck, I took a deep, cleansing breath of tangy salt air and let my eyelids drift closed. A half a second later they sprung open and went wide.
To the south, a wall of bruised clouds darkened the horizon.
Crap!
I rushed inside and opened my laptop. A quick look at the weather website I’d been checking over the last few days confirmed my fears.
The line of storms was headed onshore. I snatched up my phone. It took a minute to find the number I was looking for.
It rang at least ten times before a good old-fashioned answering machine picked up.
“This is Grace Wilde. If you’re there, please pick up—it’s an emergency.” I waited a couple of seconds. “Okay, I’m going to say this as quickly as I can. Heart, the horse I’ve been looking for and am fairly certain you have, is terrified of storms. It’s a long story, the why isn’t important. You need to know—” The machine cut me off.
“Dammit.” I redialed.
Busy.
I walked outside, counted to ten while I watched the bloom of angry clouds roil closer, then tried the number again. It started ringing. I knew I couldn’t just leave a message and hope for the best. I glanced at Nelly. I couldn’t leave her in the condo, either.
The answering machine picked up again.
“Heart—the horse. He has to be blindfolded during storms. It’s the only thing that will keep him calm. Otherwise, he’ll panic and hurt himself. Let me know you got this message. You don’t have to admit to anything, I just want to know he’s safe. My number—” The machine cut me off again.
“Really?”
A spear of lightning flashed in the distant clouds.
No time.
“Roscoe, you’re on kitty-patrol. Nelly, Moss, let’s go.” I grabbed a slip lead and Moss’s leash. “We’ve got a horse to save.”
CHAPTER 19
I loaded Nelly into Bluebell first, then hurried to the other side to open the door for Moss, who hopped in to join her. I started to close the door and noticed Nelly was chewing on something besides her cud.
A stiff piece of white paper jutted from the side of her mouth.
“Give me that.” I reached past Moss and plucked the paper from her lips, frowning when I realized what it was.
A card. Plain but for a phone number printed on one side.
Logan.
He must have left it in the seat the other night.
Shaking my head, I shoved the mangled card into my back pocket, shut the door, and climbed in behind the wheel.
As I pulled onto A1A, I redialed the number. Again, I got the answering machine.
“Blindfold the horse before the storm if you want to keep him safe,” I said in a rush. “Listen to the other messages if you need t
he details. I’m on my way to you now.”
The storm chased us all the way there. Pressing closer in the rearview mirror with every mile.
Finally, I turned off the paved road toward R-n-R, then turned again and followed a narrow, bumpy lane to where it ended.
I climbed out of Bluebell but paused before opening the back door to allow Moss to join me.
Heart might be afraid of dogs. The horse was sure to be agitated; I didn’t want to add any more stress.
I turned toward the barn, then did an about-face and went back to Bluebell. Walking around to the other side, I opened the door to see Nelly had stretched her neck over the backseat into the cargo space and was nibbling on something she shouldn’t. The goat wouldn’t frighten Heart, and I couldn’t leave her to damage herself or Bluebell’s seats, carpet, seat belts, or whatever else she could get her lips on.
“Come on, Nelly.” I slipped a lead around her neck. “You’re coming with me. Moss, stay.” I laced the last command with the weight of my will. Letting him know it was important he do as I asked.
He yielded, unhappily, and gave me the letdown-yet-still-eager face through the window as I closed the door.
“Sorry, big guy. If I can, I’ll come get you in a bit.”
Nelly in tow, I hurried to the barn’s massive set of doors, started to reach for the handle, and stopped.
A new padlock gleamed in the dusky light, mocking me.
I grabbed the lock and yanked. It remained steadfastly closed.
There was a crack where the two doors met and I peered through it, trying to get a glimpse of the equine I knew was inside. But the crack was too narrow and the interior too dark.
“Mind telling me what you’re doing here?”
I turned and saw Boomer, who was standing near the corner of the barn and holding a very serious-looking double-bladed ax in one hand. He wasn’t swinging it at me, and I didn’t want him to, so I raised my hands as far as Nelly’s lead would allow.
“Guess you didn’t get my messages?” I asked.
He didn’t respond, just studied me with a narrow-eyed gaze.
“Listen, there isn’t time to explain,” I said. “I know it’s asking a lot, but you need to trust me. We have to get a blindfold on Heart. Now.”
Horse of a Different Killer (A Call of the Wilde Mystery Book 3) Page 26
