Bad to the Bone

by Debra Dixon

  “We’ve got ourselves a problem?” the woman echoed as she came to stand beside her. “A problem, Iris? Try four problems. One: According to you, your father’s fallen off the face of the earth because he didn’t make his scheduled never-miss Sunday phone call to you. Two: I’ve got a suspicious detective on my hands because you called the police.”

  Jessica sat down and rested her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands for a second. “Sully was right about you. You are Goldilocks, which brings us to problem number three: I can’t believe you called the CIA before you called the police!”

  “I already explained that. I didn’t know they felt cold until I talked to them.”

  “Of course not. It all makes perfect sense. The CIA was cold. The police were full of negative energy, and lucky me—I was ‘just right.’ ”

  “You were. As soon as I heard your voice, I knew you were the only one who could find Daddy.”

  “Well, that’s problem number four: I’ve got maybe forty-eight hours to find your dad before the police figure out he’s really missing and come after Madame Evangeline and Jessica Daniels as their prime suspects.”

  Frowning, Iris shook her head and lifted her eyes from the tarot cards. “Um … I don’t think you have that long. He’s after you already.”

  “That much is obvious. The man probably chases everything in a skirt.” She pulled on the cuffs of her khakis. “Or in shorts.”

  “I don’t mean like that.” Iris took a deep breath and got it over with. “He’s hunting you. It’s like he’s following a trail.”

  “Where would you get an idea like that?”

  Iris pointed at the spread in front of her. “He handled the cards. I did a reading on him.”

  “Oh, great. Maybe we can get out the Ouija board and find your dad.” Jessica sighed, realizing how short she sounded, and leaned forward. The section of hair with the white streak brushed the coffee table as she did. “Iris, I don’t believe in tarot cards or crystal balls. All that stuff we said about your feelings and the cards was just to fool Sully. To get rid of him.”

  “You’re in the reading.” Iris knew that would get her attention. People loved to hear about themselves.

  “Me?”

  Iris picked a card up and handed it to her. “The Empress.”

  Hesitantly Jessica took the card and looked down at it, surprised by its sensual nature. The card’s predominant figure was a naked woman standing in a moonlike boat with a snake twined around one arm and some kind of staff in the other hand. “Does your dad know you have these cards?”

  “Of course he does! There isn’t anything here I haven’t seen in sex education. I am twelve.”

  “Right. Twelve. Naked snake ladies in sixth grade. Where have I been?” She handed the card back. “So should I be insulted or impressed with myself?”

  “Scared. Major Arcana cards mean it’s out of your control. I don’t think you can stop whatever’s going to happen between you and the detective.”

  Smiling, Jessica said, “Believe me. I am in complete control.”

  “Not a chance.” Iris tucked her hair behind her ear and began pointing out cards. “Here. This card, where it all begins. It’s so strong; this part is so cool. He’s a hunter who seeks prey to escape his own darkness. And it’s capped by the Wheel of Fortune, which means something has changed, been set in motion by cosmic forces. Which is probably the problem with my dad. See the hand reaching up to grab hold of the wheel?”

  Stunned by Iris’s performance—Jessica didn’t quite know what else to call it—she asked, “How do you know all this?”

  “I read about tarot.”

  “You can’t get all this from books.”

  “Sure you can. All you need is a great memory. I’ve got one of those. I read two thick books just about this one deck, and I’ve read all about symbols and colors and numerology and I Ching. It’s all here in the cards. Once you memorize all the meanings, you just have to read the pictures and the symbols.” Iris lifted her eyes to make sure Jessica was ready to go on.

  Jessica nodded.

  “Okay,” Iris said. “Tarot is like a story. This is where the Empress comes in. That’s how he sees the situation. She’s the card of passion, of energy. And love. I don’t mean kissy-face Valentine’s Day love. I’m talking about major emotional stuff. That’s represented by the water. See it rocks the boat.”

  Drawn into the bizarreness in spite of herself, Jessica made a connection to Sully, and she felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickle. “He doesn’t like the boat rocked.”

  “Not the way the Empress rocks it. It’s too real. He doesn’t like real. That’s what he’s afraid of.” She tapped another card. “He doesn’t like being human. He fears the devil in himself, but he’s drawn to the Empress and she’s about as real as you can get. She’s good and bad.”

  Jessica’s heart skipped a beat. “W-what?”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean you were bad. The Empress is human. That snake represents”—Iris frowned and closed her eyes as she struggled for the right word—“transformation! Because of how it sheds its skin. That’s change, right? Some people say it also means evil, that desire and evil are a part of the Empress card just like love is.”

  “A part that she tries to hold away from herself,” Jessica whispered.

  “Cool! It does seem like she’s holding the snake away. Or trying to. I never noticed that before. It doesn’t work, though.”

  I know, Jessica agreed silently. “Iris, what does any of this have to do with your father being missing?”

  “Everything in this reading points to you. The detective can’t see anything but you. I don’t know what you did to set him off, but he thinks you’re the key. The cards are about pursuit and getting justice. He’s a hunter. If he’s hunting, then he’s hunting you. Well, there’s his father, but that’s in his past—”

  “Where?”

  “This one. It’s the only other people card in the reading. It’s the Father of Cups in the North. He’s like a majorly powerful father figure. A very emotional father, but the card’s upside down.” Iris’s expression was grim. “That means something went wrong in their relationship. Bad wrong.”

  Jessica shivered as she remembered what Sully had said about having more to hide than most. Quiet descended on the room as Iris waited for her to ask another question. Instead Jessica told her to put the cards away. She didn’t want to know anything more about Sullivan Kincaid. Or her attraction to him.

  Whoa! she told herself as she realized the trap she’d fallen into. No matter how convincingly Iris spun her tale, these cards were just a game. They couldn’t tell her anything about Sully. She didn’t believe a word of it. Not a word.

  “I need to look at your dad’s calendar and his papers. Maybe I can find a lead. Where’s his office or study?”

  “Off the TV room, but it’s always locked.”

  “Who’s got a key?”

  “Daddy.”

  “How about the housekeeper or Lincoln?”

  “Lincoln doesn’t, and Rosa’s not here. She’s been going home at night lately to take care of her mother.”

  “Okay, we’ll improvise.” Jessica stopped in the foyer, unzipped one of her bags, and drew out a lock-pick kit. “Lead the way.”

  The office was toward the back of the house, off of an entertainment room that held two large-screen TV’s and a wall of videos and CD’s. The airy seascape pastels in the rest of the house gave way to bold burgundies and greens. Crossing the threshold into the entertainment room was like crossing the border between peacefully coexisting countries.

  Iris stopped suddenly. She put a hand on Jessica’s arm and silently directed her attention to the double doors on the left side of the room. They led to the office.

  One of them was ajar.

  FOUR

  Simultaneously Jessica swept Iris behind her and reached inside the neckline of her blouse. A custom-made stacked barrel derringer nestled between her brea
sts, hidden in her bra. The weapon was so small, she could almost palm it, but there was nothing small about the two hollow point bullets. Sliding the gun gently from its hiding place, she thumbed the safety off.

  Surprised by how easily she’d slipped back into old habits—like carrying the derringer, Jessica assessed the room in a way that had nothing to do with decoration. The windows to the right were shut; no panes were broken, no signs of entry. The only other ways in or out of the entertainment room were through the double doors leading to Phil’s office and through the hallway behind them.

  She glanced over her shoulder, assuring herself that the corridor was empty. Then she eased her way around the two leather sofas toward the office door.

  Iris clutched the back of Jessica’s shirt with both hands and followed her like a shadow. Thankfully, Iris was smart enough to keep silent; she hadn’t asked a single question. Given a choice, Jessica would have preferred to investigate alone, but she had no choice right now. If something went wrong, the kid was safer with her than standing like a target in the doorway.

  Taking care to stay out of sight of anyone inside the office, Jessica worked her way to the edge of the double doors. She stopped beside the one which was still closed and listened to the ominous silence around them. Without knowing who or what waited for them behind the door, even the simple act of breathing seemed a dangerous risk to take.

  Suddenly an eerie sense of déjà vu swamped Jessica. She remembered another time, another door. Every detail came rushing back with frightening clarity. She became a scared young girl again, hiding behind a door and clutching a small piece of glass. Hoping it would be enough.

  Closing her eyes for the briefest second, she cleared her mind, shoving the past back where it belonged. Shoving it away before the fear could grab hold of her and pull her further into the nightmare. When her pulse settled, she handed Iris the small zippered lock kit. Then, with her foot, she gave the partially opened door a nudge, half expecting someone to lunge out of the room or send a bullet through the opening. No one did, and the door swung wide.

  When the handle banged against the wall, a masculine voice startled them both. “Oh for God’s sake! Stop skulking around out there and come in.”

  Stunned, Jessica realized it was Lincoln’s voice and eased her head past the door. He stood beside the desk, gingerly holding the phone receiver with two fingers and looking expectantly in her direction. At the moment he resembled a butler more than a security guard, but she knew better than to trust impressions. Using the door to shield her actions, Jessica slipped the derringer into the pocket of her shorts and then stepped into the office. Any relief she felt was instantly erased by his next command.

  “Don’t touch anything. We may have been burglarized.”

  She froze and tried to calculate how much time it would take the CIA to get someone to Texas. Iris had stumbled on to Phil’s contact by pushing the redial on his bedroom phone. So Jessica had to figure they were coming, the only question was when. They’d want that book, too, and anything else that might establish a connection between the “company” and Phil.

  He’d never actually said which branch of the government gave the orders, but it had been fairly obvious from the targets. The CIA wouldn’t want a trail of bread crumbs leading to their doorstep. They’d used Phil because they wanted to maintain deniability; a link to him would defeat the whole purpose of freelance operatives.

  But … was Phil still working for them? A lot could change in two years. If Phil had refused to work with them, some very bad people would be very cranky. Cranky enough to take Phil out and wipe the slate clean? She didn’t know.

  Where are you, Phil? And what have you done?

  Not quit, she decided. He wouldn’t quit. He liked the cloak-and-dagger too much. Jessica scrutinized the office around her. The vague disarray could just as easily have been caused by a rapid search for the address book as by Phil’s disorganized work habits.

  Afraid she already knew the answer, she asked, “What was taken?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t exactly checked,” Lincoln snapped. “I wouldn’t know anyway since I’ve never been in here, but the door was unlocked. Phil’s the only one with a key.” He gave her a speculative glance. “Regardless of Iris’s devotion to you, Miss Daniels, if you hadn’t been with the detective, you’d be the first person on my short list of suspects.”

  Jessica returned his gaze without flinching. The man was right to be distrustful of her. She’d come here with every intention of tossing Phil’s office. Somebody just beat her to it.

  “But I was with the detective,” she reminded him. “And the housekeeper’s gone. That leaves only you or Iris.”

  “That’s why I’m calling the police,” he said, and bent toward the phone.

  “No!” Both Iris and Jessica shouted the word with such conviction that Lincoln actually backed up a step.

  “Excuse me?”

  Before Jessica could explain, Iris shot forward and took the phone out of Lincoln’s hand. “The police are already mad at me, Linc, because I called them about my dad.”

  The man sighed heavily and rolled his head in disgust. “Iris, honey, tell me you weren’t the one who called them with that cock-and-bull story about your dad being in danger!”

  “I wish I hadn’t, Linc. Really. I’m sorry, but I did. So don’t you see? We absolutely cannot call them again unless we’re sure. Or they’ll just say it was me making something up and crying wolf again. And next time the detective said I had to go to jail.”

  “She’s right,” Jessica agreed. She had her own reasons for wanting to keep the police out of it for a while longer. Especially Sully Kincaid. He was far too perceptive. He didn’t need any more fuel for his hunch.

  “The man was not a happy camper,” she warned. “Before we do anything, we need to be certain of what happened. I assume Phil hired you because you were good. So, tell me, Lincoln, how could someone get in here without your knowing it?”

  “If you’d asked me an hour ago, I would have told you it was impossible.” He was as serious as a man could be. “None of the window alarms tripped. The sensors on the outside wall didn’t trip. There’s no sign of entry. Except an unlocked door.”

  “So maybe no one got in. Maybe Phil didn’t pull the door all the way shut. Maybe it didn’t latch and just finally popped open tonight. Have you tried it lately? Do you know for sure that it was locked?”

  She could tell he wanted to believe the tidy explanation she’d wrapped up and tied with ribbon for him. He almost did, and then she lost him. The man was too much of a professional to accept absolution that easily.

  Lincoln shook his head. “Phil’s not careless.”

  “He was probably in a hurry.” Safe guess, Jessica thought. Ever since she’d known Phil, he’d been in a hurry. “Take a look at the facts. You don’t know if anything’s missing. You don’t know how someone got in. You can’t even swear the door was locked. How’s that going to sound to Detective Kincaid?”

  “Linc, you should have heard him,” Iris added. “He was really mad at me.”

  Jessica kept the smile of satisfaction off her face as Lincoln rubbed his eyes. The man was caving. Who wouldn’t when big purple eyes begged so prettily? Iris offered to help him look around, check to see if anything was missing. Jessica helped too.

  Five minutes later, she had done as thorough a job of searching the office as she could with eyewitnesses in the room. As far as she could tell, beyond income tax records, there was nothing of importance to steal. She didn’t even know why Phil bothered to lock the room. Unless there was a hidden safe they hadn’t been able to find yet. Sighing, she sat down in the chair, about to pronounce the office unmolested. Then her eyes fell on the desk calendar.

  It was one of those designs with loose sheets to flip over each day. She stared at it, something nagging her. And then she noticed, this one was missing pages. About a week’s worth. The last week’s worth.

  Sully was way
out of his jurisdiction, and he knew it. He could have made a phone call this morning and had his buddies in Houston check out the rental agency. But he hadn’t. Nor did he have any real business swinging by Munro Security on his way back to Jericho. But since he was already in Houston … and only a few miles away … Why not? In for a penny, in for a pound.

  Never one to lie to himself, he admitted his impulsive trip to Houston was more personal reconnaissance than real investigation. Sure, vague cop alarms were going off in his head after last night, but they were drowned out by the clamoring of his libido. That hadn’t happened for a long time.

  Not like this. Not with a woman he hardly knew. He wanted more than hot sex, although he didn’t deny a strong physical pull or the need to touch Jessica Daniels. Sure, he wanted to hear her voice in the dark, all sleepy and satisfied, but he also wanted to know about that streak of white in her hair. He wanted to get inside her head. He wanted to know why her eyes gave the impression she’d been to hell and back. Maybe more than once.

  Jessica Daniels intrigued him, and that worried him. He was drawn to her by something he couldn’t name, something hot and dark beneath the surface. They were mirror images—two predators on neutral territory, circling, testing, and retreating. When they got too close, heat pulsed between them. Jessica chose to ignore it, but Sully figured he’d better pay attention.

  Nothing good ever came from ignoring what was slapping you in the face. He’d learned that lesson at his mother’s knee while she iced her swollen jaw and kissed the lingering handprint on his cheek. All the while she told him that his father wasn’t really a drunk. His father didn’t want to beat them, she explained so softly, so sincerely. His father loved them. That’s why he had to be so firm with them. He wanted only the best for them.

  His mother had ignored the bad things, replacing them with fantasies and rationalizations. Ignorance wasn’t bliss; it was hell. His mother had died in hell, and if divine justice existed, the violent bastard who killed her was rotting there as well.