Heart of Fire (Alice Worth Book 2)

by Lisa Edmonds

  I wanted copies of the crime scene report, the M.E.’s report, and Mark’s phone records. It was still early, but I called Sean. The call went to voice mail. I left a message and took a shower.

  I expected a call back fairly quickly, but forty-five minutes later, as I was getting ready to leave the house, the phone still hadn’t rung. I was tempted to call again but decided against it. He might be in a meeting or driving. He’d call when he could.

  In the meantime, I headed downtown, to a nondescript office building I’d visited once before. I pulled into a spot in front of the convenience store across the street. It took me only seconds to spot the familiar black BMW parked in the lot in front of the building that contained John West’s investment company.

  I closed my eyes and tugged on Malcolm’s thread. My stomach lurched and I took deep breaths, fighting nausea and disorientation. I’d had nothing to eat since lunch yesterday, and I’d only slept a few hours, and it was taking a toll on me.

  As the dizziness faded, I sensed Malcolm’s familiar presence as he entered my car. “What’s wrong?” the invisible ghost demanded.

  “I’ve got some bad news.” I told him about my appearance before the Vampire Court and Mark’s murder.

  Silence from the passenger seat. “Alice, I am so sorry,” Malcolm said finally. “I don’t even know what to say. I know he meant a lot to you. What can I do to help?”

  “What can you tell me about West’s activities yesterday?”

  “He was here at the office until about five thirty. I overheard most of his meetings and phone conversations and they were all business-related, as far as I could tell. He stopped by the grocery store and then stayed home all evening. Of course, I don’t know what kind of phone conversations he had while he was there, but no one came to see him. If he was involved in Mark’s murder, he wasn’t there himself when it happened.”

  That was something, at least. West could have easily ordered it done, however; without Malcolm being able to cross his wards and see and hear what went on inside the house, it severely limited how much information the ghost could gather. I needed West’s phone records. I made a mental note to ask Sean about that whenever he finally called me back.

  “What else have you found out since yesterday morning?” Malcolm asked.

  I described our visit to the homeless shelter, Adam’s discovery that Felicia and at least some of the others were alive, and recapped what I’d read on the anti-supe hate groups’ websites leading up to this afternoon’s rally.

  “We were worried one of the missing women would turn up drained and set off a wave of anti-supe violence, but this is worse,” I said. “Mark was well-respected and well-known. He’s not some ‘hooker’ from the Stroll; he’s a local businessman with a wife, children, and grandchildren. He’s the perfect victim to galvanize people.” I rubbed my face. “I’m running out of time. I need answers.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?”

  I shook my head. “No, stick with West.”

  My phone rang. Wolf Calling. Finally. I swiped the green button. “Hello?”

  “I’m returning your call.” Sean’s voice was so brusque that I almost didn’t recognize it.

  “Thanks for calling me back. Are you busy this morning?”

  “What do you need?”

  Stung, I bit back a retort and kept my tone even. “I’m obviously looking into Mark’s murder. I wondered if our hacker friend could get copies of the crime scene report, the M.E.’s report, and Mark’s phone records. I’m also needing John West’s phone records, and soon. There’s an anti-supe rally at one o’clock, and Mark’s widow is going to be speaking. Things could get ugly fast if we don’t find out who killed Mark and prove it wasn’t a vampire.”

  His answer surprised me. “I understand MDI is no longer working for the Vampire Court.”

  “How did you hear about that?”

  “MDI contacted private security and investigation agencies throughout the city this morning, urging others to join them in refusing to work for the Court.”

  For a moment, I was too stunned to speak. Finally, I asked, “Are you no longer part of the investigation?”

  “I haven’t come to a final decision yet. My priority is locating Felicia. Are you even still working for the Court now that Mark’s gone?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not worried about that right now. I need those records. Can he get them?”

  “For the right price Cyro can get anything, but it’ll cost money, and the account information Mark gave me is no longer valid.”

  I wondered what kind of money we were talking about. What did black-hat hackers charge for this kind of thing? Surely the Court would cover the cost. That might take time to arrange, though. I thought about how much money I had in the bank and wondered if I could get an advance on my paycheck from the Court.

  “I might be able to pay,” I said hesitantly.

  “Can’t Agent Lake get you the reports you need?”

  Something about the way he said it made me pause. “Lake is going to have his hands full dealing with the rally and the fallout from Mark’s murder. I’m not sure he’ll have time to pull strings and get the reports and time is ticking.”

  No reply.

  I was getting irritated. “Sean, I thought we were partners on this.”

  “I came by your house this morning to check on you,” he said.

  My stomach dropped.

  “I was worried. I couldn’t sleep, thinking it was a mistake to leave you home by yourself, so I headed over to see you. Only you weren’t by yourself, were you?”

  “Sean—”

  “Imagine my surprise when I drove past your house just in time to see Agent Lake leaving at dawn.” His voice was cutting. “So much for needing to be alone.”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “After yesterday, I thought…” He growled. “I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought. You told me what I did and who I did it with was none of your business and vice versa. You said I didn’t owe you any promises. You were telling me without telling me, I suppose.”

  “Will you just listen for one minute?” I snapped. “He suspected I was lying when I said I was going to stay home last night, so he sat outside my house. He stopped me from trying to go after John West and he stayed the night—in the guest room—to make sure I didn’t leave. We did not sleep together. I’m sorry you saw him leaving and jumped to a completely understandable but completely wrong conclusion.”

  Silence.

  “I’m sorry for yelling at you last night,” I added when he didn’t reply. “That was uncalled-for. And I’m sorry Lake drew a gun on you. I’m sorry about the whole damn mess.”

  “Jeez,” Malcolm muttered. I’d almost forgotten he was in the car. My face burned. I was never going to live this one down.

  “When we were together before, I don’t think you ever lied to me.” Sean sounded furious. “There was a lot you didn’t want to tell me, but you’re entitled to your secrets, like anyone else—hell, maybe more than most. But now you’ve lied to me three or four times in the past day that I know of, and frankly I’m not sure what to believe.”

  “I have no reason to lie to you about this. Neither of us has any claim on the other. I might have told you it was none of your business, which it really isn’t, but I told you the truth. Regardless, I really don’t have time to argue with you about it. Mark’s dead, and that rally is scheduled for less than five hours from now. Are you going to help me or not?”

  He sighed. “Let me call Cyro and see what I can work out. Where are you? I can meet you.”

  “I’m in front of West’s office right now with Malcolm, but I’m headed down to the homeless camp by the river. When I left him last night, that’s where Mark was going.”

  “I can meet you down there in about thirty minutes.”

  I stared at the phone, torn between my natural impatience and aversion to feeling as if I were dependent on anyone and the knowledge
we were on dangerous ground. Part of me bristled at the idea of backup, but my rational self knew it made sense not to go in alone. This was not the time to be reckless for the sake of my pride, even with my gun on me and knives in my boots. Mark had a gun, too, and they got him anyway.

  “Fine,” I said grudgingly. “Meet me at the convenience store at Lescom and Third.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  My phone beeped. I checked the screen. Bryan Smith Calling. “I have another call. I’ll see you in a few.” I ended my call with Sean and answered the incoming call. “Bryan.”

  “Miss Alice,” he rumbled. “Your presence is requested at Northbourne.”

  “Hang on a minute.” I muted the phone. “Get back to West,” I told Malcolm. “Let me know if anything happens I need to know about.”

  The ghost scoffed. “If you think you’re getting out of telling me what the hell happened at your house last night—”

  “Malcolm,” I warned.

  The ghost sighed. “Fine, we’ll discuss it later. If you need me, summon me.”

  I started the car. “Be careful.”

  “You too.” Malcolm left the car.

  I unmuted Bryan’s call as I backed out of my parking space. “Sorry about that,” I said. “I’m investigating Mark’s murder. I don’t have time for meetings. I’m assuming you know about the rally this afternoon, what that might mean.” I turned out of the parking lot and headed south.

  “We’re aware of it,” Bryan said grimly. “Juliet LaRoche and Ezekiel Monroe would like to meet with you to discuss how to proceed with your investigation.”

  Ezekiel Monroe represented Valas’s interests during daylight hours. No doubt this meeting was at her request, following MDI’s decision to cut ties with the Court.

  “I don’t have time,” I repeated. “I’m on my way to follow up on leads Mark was looking into last night before they killed him. I’m not going to waste hours driving up to Northbourne, sitting in meetings and debating, while Mark’s killers are loose and the Daylighter fanatics are mobilizing for war. You can tell Ms. LaRoche and Mr. Monroe my time is better spent trying to keep mobs from coming after their bosses. Tell them to think about what happened to the vamps in Cincinnati, and then tell me if they want me to be sitting in a conference room with them or out here looking for answers.”

  A long pause. “I will pass along your message,” he said finally.

  “Do I have the Court’s authorization to proceed as lead investigator?”

  Another pause. I didn’t hear voices, but I was sure Bryan was consulting with someone, probably LaRoche or Monroe, or both. It didn’t matter to me what the answer was; I was going to find Mark’s killer, with or without the Court’s blessing. The only question was whether I’d have their resources at my disposal to do it.

  “You are the Court’s lead investigator in this matter, effective immediately,” Bryan said at last. “You’ll need to come to Northbourne tonight. There is protocol that must be followed, and information you’ll need. In the meantime, call me if you need anything. Please keep us updated.”

  “Good. I’m going to go to work now.” I disconnected.

  I did stop for coffee and a bagel, since I could do without sleep but caffeine and at least a little bit of food were requirements. The bagel tasted like sawdust but I forced myself to eat it.

  At the convenience store, I parked away from the front doors and checked my gun. I rarely carried a firearm, but I wouldn’t be leaving home without it until this case was resolved.

  When Sean pulled into the parking spot next to mine ten minutes later, I exited my car and opened the passenger door of his SUV. “Hey,” I said neutrally.

  “Hey.” Sean watched as I put my bag on the floor and climbed in. He was wearing a blue button-up shirt and khakis and a shoulder holster. It looked like I wasn’t the only one who thought going armed was a good idea.

  The camp was only five minutes away. On the way, I finished my coffee and told Sean the timeline so far for Mark’s movements the night before.

  Sean turned into the parking lot of Ned’s Liquor and parked toward the edge of the small lot. I took my holster from my bag and put it on my belt, tugging my jacket down over it.

  “What are you carrying?” Sean asked.

  “.45 caliber Smith & Wesson. My standard piece.”

  “Enhanced rounds?”

  “Silver and spelled.”

  He whistled. “Bet those set you back.”

  “They’ve saved my life more than once,” I said as we exited the SUV. “They’re standard silver rounds. I do the spellcraft myself.”

  Sean put on a light jacket over his shoulder rig and shut his door. I noticed a footpath that began at the edge of the parking lot and disappeared into the undergrowth. As he came around the front of the SUV, I pointed at the path. “That looks like it might take us where we need to go.”

  “Looks like it.” Sean stopped beside me. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay.” I hesitated. “Are we good?”

  He took my hand and squeezed it. “I’m with you.”

  We headed for the path. It wasn’t wide enough for us to walk side by side, so I went ahead and Sean followed.

  “Did you hear from the Court?” he asked as we walked through the shoulder-high grass, pushing branches out of the way.

  “I did. That was the call I took when I hung up with you earlier. I’ve been named lead investigator in Mark’s stead. They wanted me to come to Northbourne for meetings.”

  I could hear the smile in Sean’s voice when he replied. “I take it you told them to go pound sand?”

  “More or less. I asked them to think about Cincinnati and then decide if they wanted me sitting in meetings or out here looking for Mark’s killers.” I pushed my way through some small branches, then held them aside for Sean. “Any luck getting help from Cyro?”

  He took the branches from me and broke them off one-handed without noticeable effort. “He’s sending the reports and phone records as soon as he can get them.”

  I exhaled. “What kind of deal did you have to make?”

  “The expensive kind. I’ll bill the Court.”

  My footsteps faltered. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Yes, I did. We need those reports.”

  We. Sean and I were a we again. It shouldn’t have mattered so much to me, but a little of the tension went out of my shoulders.

  We worked our way down the path. In the distance, I could hear voices now over the sound of traffic on the nearby bridge.

  We came out of the tall grass at the edge of the river camp. I’d seen it from the bridge many times, but it looked very different from the ground. There were well over two dozen shelters in the camp. Most were tents, but some were lean-to structures made from metal siding. They were nestled among the trees and against the enormous bridge supports. A small group of men and women were sitting in chairs in the middle of a small clearing, near a well-used burn barrel.

  When Sean and I stepped into view, the conversation that had been taking place cut off abruptly. Two women and a man left the group, retreating to their shelters.

  An older white man rose and moved toward us. “What do you want?”

  I stepped forward. “Good morning. My name is Alice. I’m a friend of Mark Dunlap’s.”

  “Don’t know no one named Dunlap,” the man said.

  “Please.” I pulled a photo from my jacket pocket and held it up so he could see it. “This is Mark. He came down here last night, maybe around eight or so. Did you see him?”

  The man studied the photo. “That you in that picture with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “You look angry.”

  “I didn’t like having my picture taken.” Despite my objections, Sharon had taken the photo of Mark and me at an MDI Christmas party not long before I left the firm. It was the only photo I had of us together, a fact that hurt if I thought about it too much.

 
“We’re friends and colleagues of Mark’s,” I said. “He was killed last night. Do you know if he was here?”

  A tall, thin African-American man stood up from his seat by the barrel and approached us. “My name’s Jo-Jo. What did you say your name is?”

  “I’m Alice. This is Sean.”

  “He was here.” Jo-Jo looked at the photo, then handed it back as the other man returned to his seat.

  I put the photo back in my pocket and took out my notebook. “Thank you. Can you tell me what you talked about?”

  “He sat with us for twenty minutes or so. We talked about our friends who’ve disappeared. He had a list. We gave him some more names to add to it, told him when we seen them last. Then Mary Ann told him about the van.”

  “What van?” Sean asked.

  “The blue van.” The female voice came from our left. I turned.

  A tiny older woman emerged from a tent. She wore a red plaid shirt and jeans and a black knit cap over her gray hair. She walked unsteadily past a large dog who lay in front of the tent. “The blue van,” she repeated, her words slurred. “It took Lucky Lou. I told Mr. Dunlap about the van.”

  “Do you remember anything about the van?” I asked her. “Did it have anything written on it? Any pictures?”

  “White letters.” She stopped next to Jo-Jo and swayed on her feet. “Plumber, it said.”

  “You saw it yourself?” Sean asked.

  She nodded vigorously. “I did. Me and Lou went up to the liquor store and it was parked there in the lot, off to the side. Lou went down the street to buy cigarettes and I came back here. He didn’t come back, not that night, not ever again.”

  “Did you see who was in the van?” I asked.

  “Two men.”

  “What did they look like?”

  She shrugged. “White.”

  “How old?”

  “Young. Thirty, forty, maybe. Don’t remember much about it. Wouldn’t remember it at all except I asked the man in the store if they needed a plumber and he said no and I wondered why they were just sitting out there.”

  “What else did you tell Mark last night?” I asked them.

  “We didn’t know much else to tell him,” Jo-Jo said. “People gone. Nobody ever see when they take ’em. Nobody care when they gone except us.” He gestured at the dog, a black-and-white Husky mix, lying in front of Mary Ann’s tent. “That’s Lou’s dog, Rogue.” The dog raised his head, looked at us, then laid it back down on his front paws. “He’s been waiting for Lou to get back since the night he disappeared.”