by Ann Vremont
The interior of the car was silent except for the radio traffic. Crumpler called in to the station that he and Everett would be returning to the station with two guests. He placed an awkward emphasis on Everett and guests and his hand shook as he returned the mike to its cradle. He glanced in the rearview mirror and Aideen gave him a grateful smile for his earlier intervention.
“Out here to see the stones, are you?” Everett asked. Crumpler’s gaze narrowed and Everett leaned his head back, laughing and slapping his knee. He turned in his seat, looking at Kean and Aideen for the first time since he got into the car. “We’ve quite a few famous standing…stones…here in Cornwall. Some of the best in England.”
Aideen tensed at his knowing tone and wondered if he knew exactly who they were and why they were in England. Her gaze met Crumpler’s in the mirror again and he gave her a confused frown. Out of view, Kean’s thumb stroked the back of her shoulder blade and he shifted in his seat, his body pushed out and closer to Everett.
“Stones here are all for burying people,” Kean observed. Everett nodded and offered a sharp smile. “Well, then,” Kean finished, reaching out to casually rest his hand against the back of Everett’s headrest, “that’s more the sort of thing you’d be interested in.” He offered his own hard, glittering smile. “But thanks for the suggestion.”
“Hoy, city limits,” Crumpler announced. His body, unnerved, sank against the car seat and Aideen was sure she heard the air rush from him in a relieved sigh.
A few blocks later, they pulled in front of the station house. Crumpler got out of the car and opened the door for Aideen. He tossed his keys to a young constable leaning against the hood of another patrol car.
“Put her away for me, Joe,” Crumpler said and tilted his cap at the cop. He looked at Everett and his voice was uneasy when he spoke again. “You coming inside?”
Everett rubbed his hands down the front of his jacket, his expression fixed. He shook his head, slowly, as if he were still thinking his answer over. “Feeling lonely all of a sudden,” he said and looked at Aideen. “Feel like reaching out to a friend or two, myself.”
Ignoring Everett’s blatant appraisal of Aideen’s body, Kean steered her around the patrol car and toward the front steps of the station house. Crumpler walked behind her, his body shielding her from Everett’s hungry eyes. Aideen wondered just what the scope of Everett’s appetite was and her stomach tightened.
“Hey, bird!” Everett called out.
Kean’s hand gently pressed against the small of Aideen’s back, allowing her to slow but not stop. She fought the hypnotic quality of Everett’s voice and kept her eyes locked on the door ahead of her. Even at a distance of thirty feet, she could hear every stop in Everett’s rough laugh as he continued addressing her.
“I’ll be seeing you again, bird!”
Chapter Eleven
The station house was bright, the light hurting their eyes after the slow ride beneath Cornwall’s overcast sky. With Everett still outside, Crumpler walked straighter and he cut a quick line in front of Aideen and Kean. He led them past the intake sergeant’s desk and into a bay of desks bordered by glass offices. He took them all the way across the room and abruptly halted in front of an office door. The shades were pulled down but shadows bounced against them as someone paced on the other side.
Crumpler looked at Aideen. She saw something of her father in his worried smile and she placed a reassuring hand on his arm. He patted it then knocked on the glass door.
“In.” The succinct command was delivered with an equal economy of sound.
Crumpler turned the knob and pushed the door open. Kean entered the room first and Crumpler caught Aideen’s sleeve, momentarily halting her. “Leave as soon as you can, miss.”
She nodded but he didn’t notice. He had said what he had to and, duty discharged, his features returned to a composed blandness. Crumpler released her sleeve, gave a smart half-bow to the man behind the desk, and turned sharply on his heels and marched back across the open bay.
Kean pulled Aideen the rest of the way into the room. She was surprised to see a second man in one corner. He turned, revealing his profile to her and she realized, a second before his identity hit her, he had been the one pacing in front of the drawn shade.
“Tea?” the man behind the desk inquired.
He was smooth-cheeked, young. Aideen’s gaze flitted to the brass nameplate. Too young to hold his position and, yet, Aideen was sure this was the old man to whom Crumpler and Everett had referred. Her gaze returned to the second man in the room. She remembered his face from the countless Parliamentary pontifications on the most recent IRA cease-fire. He turned to the youthful inspector and flicked his hand in the direction of the door.
“Leave us.”
With the police inspector gone, the man turned to Kean. “I’m finished with this—”
“I’ll make the necessary calls when I get to London,” Kean interrupted.
The man shook his head, the slightly jowled folds of his chin tightening as his jaw jutted forward. “Damned if you think you’re getting a police escort to London.”
“I just want to make sure we get out,” Kean said. He pulled the window’s shade to one side and stared out at the bay of desks. “You’ve got a dirty constable out there.”
“Just one?” the man asked with a rough laugh.
A shiver ran along Aideen’s spine and she wrapped her arms around herself, wondering what Kean was blackmailing this man with. Kean noticed how Aideen held herself and let the shade drop back against the window. With a dismissive shrug at the other man, he opened the door and held it for Aideen while she stepped from the office and into the bay.
Everett was leaning against a desk, his legs blocking the aisle. She froze. Heat from the anger at her fear did nothing to un-root her. She couldn’t bring herself to step over his legs and felt ridiculous at the idea of going around one of the other desks. He would only take that as a sign of weakness. He wasn’t even wary or respectful of force. Standing there, she had time enough to wonder what had so pummeled him that he had acquired an immunity against the threat of violence. Or had he always possessed it? Her gaze met his and she knew that the latter was the better answer. Her earlier thought that his soul was ulcerous had been wrong and the thing she had glimpsed inside him no more than shadows bouncing around an empty shell.
“Everett, our guests have tarried long enough.” It was the inspector’s voice, laced with irritation that made Everett curl his legs back into his body.
Aideen passed between the inspector and Everett, Kean close behind her, his gaze locked on the Pumpkin King. He stopped in front of Everett and extended his hand, palm up. Everett’s mouth twitched but he reached into his jacket and pulled Kean’s cell phone from it.
“Slipped my mind,” he offered. “Wouldn’t want you and the songbird stuck alongside the road with no way to call for assistance.”
Aideen’s gaze jumped to Everett. Her breathing shallowed and her heartbeat slowed to match its pace. He knew, but how? Kean put his hand in the center of her back and urged her forward, not giving her time to contemplate the source of Everett’s knowledge. When they were outside the station house, he flagged down a cab.
They slid into the back seat and Kean tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Car rental,” he said. The cab pulled away from the curb and Kean relaxed against the ripped vinyl seat. He turned the phone over in his hands and then opened the battery panel. He reached inside the small hollow, scraping with his nail until he pried a small black dot loose.
“He didn’t waste any time,” Kean murmured and shoved the tracking device between the seat’s cushions.
“How did he know?” Aideen asked. For a moment, she had relaxed, thinking they were pulling farther away from Everett. Now it looked like he intended to travel with them.
“Flaherty must’ve called after he ran off,” Kean answered. His face folded into a perplexed frown. “But why send someone back when Flaherty had the
Bloodstone?”
Aideen turned to look out the window. The glass was cold and she scooted toward the center of the seat, her back relaxing against Kean’s expansive chest. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer.
“It freaked you out when he called you songbird,” Kean remembered. He kissed her temple and gave her a little nudge but she wouldn’t respond. “They came back for you, didn’t they?”
“Don’t you know already?” Aideen asked.
“I thought Mey… I thought he had built a sort of tuning fork for it, or was doing so,” Kean answered, his hug tightening. “I know our parents were selected because of their voices…” he started and then faltered. Aideen turned until she could look at him, her gaze expectant and urging him to continue. “But I thought it was for the ceremonies…for channeling the goddess.”
“Maybe that, but more than that, too,” she said.
Kean released Aideen and pressed her back against the seat. His hand and lips trembled as he cupped her face and kissed her. It was the first time since they’d met that he felt vulnerable to her and she wrapped her arms around him. “What is it?” she asked.
“I was just thinking that the better course of action may have been running away,” he answered flatly, his self-composure partially regained.
“No,” she said, shaking her head at him. “Don’t second-guess yourself.” She looked over his shoulder and caught the cabbie’s gaze. She frowned and nudged Kean away from her. “We almost there?” she asked the cabbie.
“Two blocks up,” the cabbie answered and returned his attention to the traffic ahead of them.
Aideen and Kean didn’t talk for the rest of the ride. Her hand rested in his lap, half enclosed by his and they leaned against one another. She felt herself nodding off and jerked upright as the cab pulled into the rental agency’s parking lot.
“You still haven’t had much rest,” Kean observed as he helped her from the back seat. “I’ll drive the first bit,” he offered before turning to the driver. He pulled out his wallet and thumbed through the £100 notes. He pulled two out, stopping short of handing them to the driver. “I need someone to deliver an envelope to Newquay,” he said and folded the notes in half.
“Cost you more than that,” the driver started. Kean shrugged and put the notes back in his wallet and pulled out a £20. “Hold on, don’t be hasty,” the driver protested. “How big is this package you want delivered? Maybe we can work something out.”
“As I said, I need an envelope delivered to Newquay.” Kean’s expression was cloaked with bored impatience and he started to put his billfold away.
“Hold on,” the driver bounced in his seat and looked over his shoulder before leaning closer to where Kean stood. “Ain’t nothing illegal in the envelope?”
“No,” Kean answered. “Just a message that I can’t entrust to conventional means.”
“Alright,” the driver relented. “Two hundred quid plus the fare for this ride.”
“Fair enough, wait here.” Kean motioned Aideen into the small rental office. Its interior was empty of customers and only one clerk sat behind the tall counter, her nose buried between the pages of a horror book. Kean began speaking to her before she acknowledged their entrance and she had to race to catch up with his requests. “A sedan for London, one way, one driver.” He pulled his license out and placed it in front of her then reached over the counter for one of their envelopes.
The clerk started to protest but he cut her short with a snap of his fingers and a sharp jab in the direction of the agency’s printer.
“Get me a clean sheet of paper,” he said and scribbled out the agency’s name on the envelope. Below the scratched out return address, he put two glyphs and then wrote a Newquay address in the center of the envelope. “Paper,” he repeated his command.
The girl looked at Aideen but Aideen only shrugged and motioned for her to get the paper. The clerk moved like molasses on a midwinter day as she got up from the stool and crossed the two feet to the printer. She pulled a sheet from the feeder tray and repositioned herself on her stool before she relinquished her hold on the paper.
“Keep working on the rental,” he said and scribbled a note on the paper. He folded the sheet and stuffed it in the envelope. He sealed the envelope then handed Aideen his bankcard before going back out to the cabbie.
“Is the home address valid?” the clerk asked. Her face was screwed tight in a sour grimace and she rolled her eyes when Aideen offered her another helpless shrug. “Well, I need to know.”
Aideen’s cheeks flushed a bright rose. “Just go on to the next part.” She snapped the words out, her tone peevish at the thought that there still was so much she didn’t know about Kean.
“Phone?” the girl asked.
“Just skip the bloody personal information until he gets back,” Aideen bit out. Good Lord! she groaned internally, I don’t even know his phone number.
She looked out the window at the lot and saw the cab pull onto the street, the driver offering Kean a backward wave. Kean nodded and turned, a satisfied smile on his face. The smile paled when he saw the waspish red that tinged Aideen’s cheeks.
“Well,” he said and rubbed his hands together. “Where are we?”
The clerk looked up, a blank expression on her face. “Wadebridge, sir…”
Kean stifled a sigh and pulled the rental application from the girl’s unprotesting fingers. “I meant, how far along are we with this?”
“She needs your personal information,” Aideen offered, her words clipped short in irritation. “You know, home address, phone, that sort of thing.”
“Ah,” he said and began filling in the form’s boxes. He kept his attention focused on the paper in front of him but couldn’t avoid the slow burn of her gaze. After a few seconds, he looked up at Aideen. “What?”
She nodded at the lot outside. “Why’d you send him to Newquay?”
Kean pulled his cell phone from his jacket and tapped the battery cover. “Hopefully, his little trip will buy us an hour or two.”
Aideen grunted and tried to smooth the pout from her mouth. She walked over to the window that overlooked the available cars. She’d started out yesterday in a Jag and then battled the lime green truck all the way to Flaherty’s landing strip. Directly in front of her was a sapphire BMW 7 series with heavily tinted windows. She tapped the glass with one long nail, drawing both Kean and the clerk’s attention. “We want that one,” she said, a trace of a smile forming on her lips.
The girl looked at Kean and he nodded his approval.
“You’ve got the bankcard still?” he asked Aideen. She extended her arm and dropped the card in his outstretched hand.
“When can we eat?” she asked. They hadn’t eaten anything since before they boarded the ferry and her stomach was moving beyond quietly protesting. “I’m famished.”
He glanced over the wall map behind the counter and frowned. “Bodmin, maybe…not here, that’s for sure.”
“There’s vending in the garage area,” the girl offered and jerked her thumb in the direction of the door leading out to the area behind the rental office. Her interest in the strangers was overcoming her initial irritation with Kean’s gruff orders and she offered him a tentative smile. “I can make change for you.”
“That would be brilliant,” Kean said and handed her a £10 note. The girl handed him ten £1 coins and he gave them to Aideen.
She wrinkled her nose playfully. “Aren’t you hungry?” she asked as she brushed past him.
Kean caught Aideen and pulled her close enough to whisper in her ear. “I’m sure I’ll find something to satisfy me once we’re on the road.”
The clerk’s curious gaze was fixed on them and Aideen blushed, pushing against Kean’s body until he released her with a wistful growl. He watched the soft sway of Aideen’s ass as she crossed to the door and disappeared from his sight. Then he turned back to the clerk and signed the charge slip before pocketing the BMW’s keys.
“Actually, we’re on an extended first date.” He chuckled as the girl’s jaw dropped down and she stared at him in gaping disbelief.
Chapter Twelve
Satisfying their immediate hunger with corn chips and soft drinks from the vending machine, they waited until Exeter to stop for food and petrol. Most of the distance passed in silence, Kean’s gaze frequently returning to the rearview and side mirrors to make sure they weren’t being followed.
“But Flaherty would know we were going to London, wouldn’t he?” Aideen asked as she wolfed down a hamburger and vanilla shake.
“Yes,” Kean agreed, pinching one of the chips from her plate and dipping it in her shake before he popped it into his mouth. “But he can’t be sure we won’t change our plans, now that we don’t have the stone.”
She chewed over her next sentence carefully before she let the words slip casually from her mouth. “You told the minister that a Claubine would release documents if he didn’t have you out of jail in two hours…” dyed
An embarrassed red highlighted his cheeks and he avoided her gaze.
“Oh,” she said, correcting his assumption. “I don’t care that you were blackmailing him… I mean, for the most part I don’t care…if he has a mistress or something…sod him…if he’s diddling his nephew or selling nuclear launch codes, that’s another thing.” Her chest constricted around her heart as Kean hesitated to acknowledge her point. But his face was guileless when he nodded his agreement.
“What I meant,” she continued in a hurry, “was that you didn’t really contact Claubine before you called him. Why? Were you worried she might have joined Meyrick’s ranks by now?”
A shadow passed over his features but he wouldn’t give voice to any suspicions as to Claubine’s loyalties. “I sent a text message to several temple members while Janet was bellowing at us,” he said after another minute’s hesitation. “I thought it best to deliver the threat first.”
