“Used to have them? You were still having nightmares when I met you.”
She tilted her head as the automatic doors of the hotel whisked open. “Those were dreams, not nightmares.”
“They’re dreams now because you made sense of them and sorted them out, but they’d be nightmares for a child.”
She curled her hands into fists. “That’s why I’ve never told Vivi about Kendall’s nightmares. Vivi has this crazy notion about testing Kendall’s level of perception.”
“Not,” he turned to her and wedged a thumb beneath her chin, saying, “going to happen.”
“Oh, you don’t have to tell me that. I already nixed it.” Eric’s parental instincts were kicking in already, and he hadn’t even met Kendall yet.
They walked across Union Square and up a few blocks, passing beneath the arch that signified the beginning of Chinatown.
Families and tourists clogged the streets, dipping in and out of shops and browsing through trinkets set out on the sidewalk.
They ducked inside the restaurant where they were meeting Nigel, and the cool darkness enveloped Christina along with scents of garlic and hot peppers.
Nigel waved a folded newspaper at them from a corner table. When they approached, he stood up and pulled out Christina’s chair. “Welcome, welcome. I’ll pour the tea.”
As they sat, Nigel aimed a steady stream of pale green liquid into the delicate cups.
Christina inhaled the fragrant essence of jasmine, slipping into a relaxed state. She wrapped one hand around the warm cup and sipped. She skimmed a finger down the plastic menu and asked, “Are we ordering for the table? Because I’m just going to steal tastes of your food anyway.”
“Table style.” Nigel winked. “So tell me what happened last night. I heard all hell broke loose.”
Eric finished his tea in one gulp and poured more. “Who told you that?”
“I have friends in high places.”
“Did they give you the details?”
“I’m persona non grata in those circles now. They think I brought you in.”
Christina closed the menu and tapped it on the table. “I was attacked. A woman named Uma sent me outside, across the quad to look for the bathrooms and I was met by a masked man with a formaldehyde-soaked cloth.”
Nigel’s gray brows jumped. “I didn’t hear that. Are you okay? How’d you get away?”
“Eric came looking for me. My assailant got distracted by his voice and I tossed some hot coffee in his eyes.”
Nigel rubbed his own eyes. “Look for someone with some burns around his eyes.”
“Right, in all of San Francisco.” Eric twisted his head around to look for the waiter.
“Then you crashed back into the meeting and accused everyone there of a conspiracy?”
“We asked about Uma.” Christina tipped a menu toward Nigel. “I’m assuming you don’t know her either since the name didn’t register with you when I mentioned her.”
He held up a crooked finger. “Hold on.”
The waiter approached the table and took their order.
Nigel took a sip of water. “Okay. What did Uma look like?”
“Blonde, medium height. Looked about thirty.”
“Attractive?”
“I’d say so. She was wearing jeans and an embroidered peasant blouse—loose and flowing.”
“I think I saw her, but I didn’t recognize her.”
Eric asked, “Did you see her talking to anyone at the meeting?”
“Geoffrey Vandenbrook. You met him. He was at the front door greeting people, the one with the teeth filed to points.”
“Was he just greeting her, or was it something more sinister?” Christina swirled the last drops of tea in her cup.
“I have no way of knowing that, Christina. You’re the one with the special powers.” Nigel rearranged some plates on the table to make way for the steaming dishes the waiter was rolling over on a cart.
They all kept quiet while the waiter placed the plates on the table along with bowls stuffed with mounds of white rice.
Ignoring the food, Eric picked up his fork and aimed it at Nigel. “I thought you had something to tell us, something about the coven that’s being targeted.”
Nigel turned one of the bowls upside down and the rice plopped onto his plate. “I do have something to tell you, Agent Brody, something about the past, not the present.”
A tingle of apprehension rippled through Christina, and she crumpled the napkin in her lap.
“Spill it.” Eric’s shoulders lifted.
“This coven from south of the border has been involved in misusing its powers for the past twenty-five years or so. This latest spate of bad behavior is nothing new.”
“The past twenty-five years?” Eric’s voice sounded tight, matching his face.
“And twenty years ago, they were involved in a kidnapping.”
Eric dropped his fork. “What are you trying to tell me?”
Nigel pinched a piece of chicken between his chopsticks and held it up. “I’m telling you, Agent Brody, that this coven was involved in your kidnapping twenty years ago.”
Chapter Fourteen
Eric snapped his chopstick in two. How many more bombshells could he take this week?
“Are you sure about this?” Even as he said the words, a vision of that necklace hanging from the female kidnapper’s neck flashed in his head.
“Most of the occult community in the Bay Area knows it to be true.”
Eric’s gaze wandered to Christina, who crossed her chopsticks in front of her. “I’m not part of the occult world, and I certainly didn’t know about it.”
“I don’t understand.” He dumped some rice on his plate, followed by some shrimp. “My kidnapping was connected to the serial killer my father was investigating. Some said that he arranged the abduction himself to throw the police off his trail.”
“Do you believe that? Did you ever believe that?”
“I didn’t hear the stories until later, and I didn’t know what to believe. Are you suggesting that the real serial killer contacted this coven to kidnap me, or that my father himself contacted them?”
“I don’t know anything more than the fact that the coven was involved.” He screwed up his lined face and chased a peanut across his plate with his chopsticks.
“This is just too incredible to believe.”
“Believe it or not, it’s the truth, and that’s why so many in the occult world know about you and your ordeal as a child.”
Again, he glanced at Christina, who had filled her plate with food.
“Stop looking at me like I’m the devil. You know I have minimal contact with my father and sister, and we certainly don’t discuss coven business when we do talk.”
“It’s all so,” he mused as he made a ball with his hands, “circular.”
Nigel cocked his head. “Life is that way, isn’t it? I’ll leave it to the two of you to piece together, since I’m sure there are things you can’t discuss in front of me.”
“Let’s lay this out. This coven, in which Christina’s family has a prominent...”
“Wrong already.” Christina tapped his water glass with her chopstick.
“Correction. This coven, to which Christina’s family belongs, but is not involved with, started using its powers to perform evil deeds. The witching world let it go for a while and then some rogue witch started taking action by eliminating the members of this coven—whether or not they were involved in any of the black magic.”
“Don’t forget my sister’s take.” Christina glanced at Nigel. “She believes there’s another reason someone is targeting the coven—because he or she covets their dark powers.”
Nigel nodded. “Not out of the re
alm of possibility. Where is your sister?”
“Sealed to secrecy.” She drew a line across the seam of her lips.
“That could be. I’m giving you what I know. I’ve always been peripheral since I don’t have the gift myself. There are a lot of us like that—on the outside looking in.”
“You sound...regretful.” She waved a spoon over the plate of kung pao shrimp. “Does anyone want to split the rest of this with me?”
Eric nodded. “I will.”
Pushing his plate away, Nigel said, “I am regretful. I’d like to experience having the power that you choose to neglect.”
“I’m not interested in abracadabraing my way through life.”
“You joke about it, but isn’t it clear we’re dealing with some powerful forces?”
“It’s clear we’re dealing with a bunch of people who are putting too much stock into some extrasensory feelings. These people in my father’s coven who are turning to crime, like kidnapping, are just bad people. They don’t have any more power than any other criminal.” She popped the last piece of shrimp in her mouth.
He shook his finger at her. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
The waiter dropped off the bill and Nigel pushed back from the table, dropping his napkin in his plate. “I’m assuming you can write that off as a business expense, since I’m a witness or something, right?”
Eric picked up the check and waved it at him. “We’ve got it.”
Nigel bowed, placed a gray felt fedora on his head and hobbled from the restaurant.
Eric stared after him with narrow eyes. “How far do we trust him?”
“Are you changing your mind? Do you think he might be involved in the murders?”
“I don’t know.” Eric reached for his wallet and snapped his credit card onto the tray. “All that stuff about members of the coven being involved in my kidnapping.”
“It makes sense, Eric.” She tapped her chest. “You recognized the necklace. Nigel didn’t know anything about that memory.”
“If it’s all true, maybe the Phone Book Killer was part of the coven. If I can find out more about what went down, I can clear my father’s name once and for all.”
“And solve this case?”
His chest flashed with heat. “Do you think I’m losing focus?”
“I think—” she dabbed her mouth with her napkin as she spoke “—you’ve been careening from one shock to another.”
“It seems like we’re both a little too involved in this one.”
“My involvement is giving me some insight and access that we might not have gotten.”
“Your involvement is putting you in danger.” And even though she’d been deceiving him about their daughter for the past two years, he wouldn’t stand by while the threats piled up against her. Kendall needed her mother.
“It comes with the territory. Are you ready to get out of here?”
“Have you forgotten something?” He grabbed one of the fortune cookies from the tray and cracked it open. He read aloud from the slip of paper. “You are headed in the right direction. Trust your instincts.”
Christina clapped her hands. “Perfect. It means we’re going to solve this case.”
“As long as I trust my instincts.” He tossed a cookie to her. “What’s yours?”
She bit into half of the cookie and pulled the fortune out of the other half. “Something special is coming your way.”
“There you go. That means we’re going to solve the case.”
“That would be great, but if that’s your fortune, I’m hoping my something special is something more personal.” She dropped the slip of paper into her purse and stood up from the table without meeting his eyes.
If she was hoping they’d work things out, she was being premature. Could he ever forgive her? Her deception raised all his issues of distrust with her. Right now he just wanted to take it step-by-step. Get through this working relationship with her and then meet his daughter.
He pushed the door open for her, and they both stepped onto the crowded sidewalk. He turned right to go back to the hotel, but she plucked at his sleeve.
“I’m not going back to the hotel just yet. I’m going to take the afternoon off and browse through Chinatown a little, and then maybe head to North Beach and get a gelato.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“Because someone attacked me at a meeting of the Bay Area covens? It’s broad daylight.”
“You’re forgetting the mishap in the crosswalk.”
“I’ll look before I cross. Besides,” she patted her handbag and whispered, “I’m armed.”
He didn’t like it, but she was a professional. He couldn’t expect her to lock herself in her hotel room.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned and called over his shoulder, “Be careful.”
She stood rooted to the sidewalk, watching Eric’s stiff back retreat. She could’ve invited him to come along, but she wanted him to make that suggestion.
Since she showed him the pictures of Kendall, it seemed as if he was always on the verge of saying something. She knew he wanted to ask her a million questions about their daughter. She’d hoped they could discuss Kendall over a couple of gelatos or cappuccinos.
Hunching her shoulders, she pivoted on the sidewalk and dodged the press of people who all seemed to be walking against her.
What forces had brought her and Eric together on this case? What forces had brought her to Eric in the first place? Her father’s coven had been involved in Eric’s kidnapping twenty years ago. Crazy and yet so perfect.
The baskets of trinkets lining the sidewalk drew her like a magnet, and she sifted through them. They were too small for Kendall, but she discovered a bin of small silk purses in jewel tones that Kendall would love. She could put her treasures in them or carry them as a purse.
She bought three in different colors and dropped them into her bag. She zigzagged down one of the alleys and inhaled the fresh-baked scent from the small fortune cookie factory. Maybe she should buy a fresh batch and hope for a better fortune.
Her steps took her through Little Italy, but she couldn’t find the gelato shop she remembered. The gelato idea had lost its luster anyway as a solo endeavor. She continued to the edges of Little Italy where the restaurants and coffeehouses turned into bars and a few strip joints, and the tourists had thinned out.
She glanced over her shoulder. Why had someone attacked her last night? Did they really believe she was some wicked witch of the west, or was she getting too close to the truth?
Huffing out a breath, she shortened her steps as the sidewalk started climbing. She didn’t feel as if they were getting close to the truth. She paused at the top of the hill to take in the view of the bay. She hadn’t meant to walk this far. The streets before her crisscrossed up to Coit Tower. She definitely wasn’t up for a walk uphill.
She turned to walk back the way she came—and there he was.
* * *
ERIC PAUSED BENEATH the Chinatown archway and looked back. He shouldn’t have let her go off on her own, gun or no gun, pride or no pride.
He pulled out his cell phone. They had GPS trackers installed on their phones. If she was sitting at an outdoor café in North Beach enjoying a gelato, he’d be able to tell pretty quickly.
He pulled up the GPS app and tapped in Christina’s number. The map popped up, and a red pinpoint located Christina’s phone.
He shaded the display with his hand and swore.
She’d come out on the other side of North Beach, through the seedy part, and looked to be heading up to Coit Tower. What the hell was she doing?
Holding the phone in front of him like some sort of beacon, he made his way back through the streets of Chinatown, shouldering through the crowds. H
e kept glancing at the phone to make sure he was heading in the right direction.
The tourists thinned and his heart hammered. Either the GPS locater wasn’t all that accurate, or she hadn’t moved since he first located her.
He panted as he pumped his legs uphill, and then stopped at the top. Relief flooded his bones as he spotted Christina sitting on a stone wall. As he made his way toward her, the relief evaporated.
“Christina!”
She turned a blank, pale face to him from her crouched position on the wall. Her eyes were pools of black coffee.
He jogged toward her and kneeled at her feet, running his hands down her arms. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“I...” She closed her mouth and her tongue swept across her lips. She tried again. “My father.”
Dread pounded against his temples. Was her father the next victim? “Is he hurt? Did your sister call you?”
Her dark brows collided over her nose. “No.”
“What is it, Christina?” He took both of her hands in his. “What happened to your father?”
“N-nothing happened to him.” She closed her eyes and her lashes fluttered against her cheeks. “He was here.”
He cranked his head around, peering at the empty street, except for a car pulling into a driveway. “Here? Where is he?”
Tilting her head back, her eyelids flew open, and she scanned the sky. “He appeared in front of me, Eric.”
He swallowed as a chill crept over his flesh. “Appeared?”
“Like a...an apparition.”
He fell back on his heels. Great. Christina was seeing ghosts. “You mean he wasn’t physically here?”
“Not physically. He appeared to me. It was him and it wasn’t. It was his face and form. I don’t know how else to explain it. I’ve never seen anything like it before. He’s never appeared to me like that before.”
He liked it better when Christina joked about this stuff. “Did he do or say anything?”
“Not really. No words, but he was warning me.”
“Could it have just been your imagination?”
The District Page 15
