“Who said?”
“Arianna. But I don’t know if it’s true.”
“You think Arianna lied to you? Why would she do that?” When she didn’t respond, he frowned. “What’s going on, Mick? You text me a message warning me to stay away from Natalie King and that you’ll explain why. Then you disappear. I’m here to collect on that explanation.”
She nodded and took a swallow of the coffee, then set it aside. Zach watched as she brought her right hand to her chest and curled her fingers around Hank’s medal.
She’d been doing that a lot, he realized.
“I don’t think I should be talking to you,” she said.
He frowned, concern growing. “Why not?”
“If I care about you or Angel . . . or anyone else—” She stopped, took in a deep breath, then released it. “You might die.”
In another situation, he’d laugh, make a joke. Not this one, not today. “Die, Mick? You don’t think that’s just a little nuts?”
“It sounds that way, but it’s not.” She looked him in the eyes, dead serious. “I think she means to kill you.”
He went from worried to deeply concerned. Not about his own safety, but about her state of mind. “Who might kill me?” He tipped his head. “Natalie King? That’s where you’re going with this, right?”
She nodded. “The way she killed Hank. Only it was my fault. Because I pushed her into it. I wouldn’t let go. And now I’ve done it again.”
He crossed to the couch and squatted down in front of her, taking her hands. The one that had been clutching her medal was warm. “Mick, look at me. Hank died six years ago. Natalie King would have been practically a teenager. Think about it.”
He felt her resistance and tightened his fingers. “Getting that package from Hank, mailed on the day he died, it was a shock.” He brought her hands to his mouth. “Sweetheart, you’re—”
“Don’t call me that. You can’t care about me. And I can’t— I don’t care about you.”
He was surprised how much those words, coming from her, hurt. “You’re overwhelmed and exhausted,” he went on. “Take a few days off, maybe make an appointment with the department shrink—”
“No. Not the shrink. She was a shrink last time. She could do it again.”
“Partner, you’re starting to scare me. For real.”
“Good. Because she could be anyone, Zach. Even me.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
2:40 P.M.
After leaving Mick’s, Zach went back to the Eighth and hopped on the computer. Mick had called the case tormenting her The Three Queens investigation. Cross-referencing the date with the details he knew, he found it.
Two homicides. One attempted. The only thing the three perps had in common was the shrink they’d been seeing. Mick had been convinced the psychiatrist had used hypnotherapy to turn the three into killers.
By the time she got a search warrant, the shrink had bolted.
But not before leaving Mick a message that read: Better luck next time, Detective Dare.
There’d been nothing in the file about Hank’s death. And nothing to suggest a connection to Thomas King or his young, beautiful wife.
Yet Mick believed they were all related.
“She could be anyone, Zach. Even me.”
He had been unable to get anything more out of her. She’d gotten agitated when he tried, and told him to go. She couldn’t bear to have his death on her hands.
Zach decided to pay her old partner, Carmine Angelo, a visit. He’d met the man once several months ago, an affable guy with a mile-wide protective streak toward Mick.
Zach greeted him now. “Hey man, how’s it going?”
“Can’t complain. It’s pretty chill here in the Cold Case Squad.”
Zach laughed. “Good one. Mick said you were a funny guy.”
“Yeah? She’s says you’re a pain in the ass.”
Zach laughed again. “That’s my Mick. She doesn’t pull her punches.”
Angelo cocked an eyebrow at his word choice, but didn’t comment. “What can I do for you, Harris?”
“I had some questions about The Three Queens investigation.”
“Everything’s in the file.”
“This isn’t.”
Angelo folded his arms across his chest. “Maybe you’d better elaborate.”
“What did the case have to do with her friend Hank’s death?”
His expression turned wary. “Why do you want to know?”
Zach understood the man’s hesitation. “Anything you tell me is completely confidential. I’m trying to help Mick, not the other way around.”
Angelo studied him a moment, then nodded. He motioned toward the hallway. “Let’s take a walk.”
They strolled down the hall to an empty interview room and stepped inside; Angelo closed the door behind them, leaned against it. “What do you know so far?”
“Mick’s friend Hank had a massive heart attack and died the same day your suspect skipped town.”
“Rene Blackwood. Yeah. She was one creepy bitch. But she bothered Dare way more than me. Just gave her this feeling—”
“Like nails on a chalkboard.”
“Yeah, that’s it.” He shook his head. “Schools today have those Smart Boards, can you believe that shit? Anyway, the woman had called that morning and threatened her.”
“What kind of threat?”
“This veiled threat, something about messing with the people Micki loved most.”
“Then Hank was dead.”
“And Micki was convinced that somehow, she killed Hank. At least until the path report came in.” Angelo shrugged. “You know how tough Mick is. She gave it up and moved on. Never got over Hank’s death, though.”
Zach looked him dead in the eyes. “You think this shrink could’ve had anything to with his death?”
“Don’t see how. Path report was pretty straightforward.” He stopped, his gaze just as direct. “I talked to you, you talk to me. Why do you want to know all this?”
Zach lifted a shoulder. “If my partner has a problem, I’ve got a problem. You know what I mean?”
He obviously did, because he simply nodded and stepped away from the door. “You need anything else, I’m here.”
“Appreciate it, man.”
“By the way, Micki was here the other day. Asking about Blackwood, if I thought she could be back in the States.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Anything’s possible, but it’s not probable. We flagged her passport.”
Not probable.
Unless she wasn’t human.
Chapter Twenty-nine
8:00 P.M.
Light tumbled from Arianna’s front window. Zach took the three steps up to the porch and crossed to the door. She wasn’t expecting him; he hadn’t wanted his stopping by to feel like a big deal.
But now, it sort of did. And he wished he’d called first.
He knocked on the door; she answered, looking surprised, but pleased. “Zach,” she said.
“Hey. I hope my just coming by this way is okay.”
“Of course it is. C’mon in.”
He stepped inside. He’d been by twice before, the first to help her move in the secondhand furniture she’d bought, and the second for the small, housewarming pizza party she’d had a week later.
The TV was on. The Food Channel. He wondered if she liked to cook and if she was good at it.
She waved him in. “Have a seat.” She moved aside a ball of buttercream yellow yarn and knitting needles, dropping them into a big basket with balls of other colors of yarn.
“I didn’t know you knitted,” he said, taking a seat on the couch.
She hit the remote, silencing the television. “I learned from my mother—your grandmother. She made beautiful throws and sweaters. I took it up again after my capture. It was something I could do for the babies.”
He drew his eyebrows together. “I don’t understand how you can remember some things and not
others.”
“Nor do I.”
Her simple response rang true and he thought of what had brought him here tonight—Mick’s comment about Arianna lying to her.
“Mick told me she stopped by LAM today and that the two of you spoke.”
“So, that’s why you’re here. I thought maybe you’d . . . ” She shook her head. “Yes, she was waiting for me when I got there.”
“What time was that?”
“Early. Before seven, I think. Although she wasn’t there to see me.”
“You told her Eli and Professor Truebell were out of town.”
“Called in to see the High Council. Yes.” Arianna looked away, then back. “She was acting so strange.”
He frowned slightly. “How so?”
“She seemed sort of unraveled. Not her usual self, all business and totally in control.”
Unraveled. That’s the way she had seemed to him as well.
“She asked if I’d done something with Eli and Professor Truebell. Like I’d hurt them or something.”
“She said that?”
“Yes.” She laced her fingers together. “I know you care a lot about her and I hate to say anything that might come between you—”
“Nothing is going to come between us.” The forcefulness of his own response took him aback. “But I am worried about her. So, don’t filter. Just tell me, flat out.”
“Okay.” She laced her fingers together in her lap. “She accused me of not really being . . . your mother. And for a moment, I thought she was going to shoot me.”
“Shoot you? Mick?”
She tipped her chin up. “You don’t believe me?”
“It’s not that. Frankly, I’m shocked. That’s not the Mick I know and have worked with for almost a year.”
“And you don’t know me at all.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I see it in your eyes. And I feel it. Our light force connects us, son, whether you want to acknowledge it or not.”
“But you know me, Zach.”
He looked over his shoulder in surprise. Angel, head phones looped around her neck, charcoal smudges on her chin and cheeks, stood in the doorway to the kitchen.
He stood and gave her a hug. “What’re you doing here, kiddo?”
Angel looked at Arianna, as if seeking help. Arianna stepped in. “Angel’s decided to move in with me for a little while.”
He looked from one to the other, a sinking feeling in the pit of his gut. “Why?”
“Micki,” Angel said. “She said some pretty mean stuff to me.”
“Like what?”
“That I was stupid for loving Seth, that he never loved me and wasn’t coming back. She told me I needed to grow up.”
That sounded blunt, even for Mick. “Maybe you just took it wrong?”
“I know I have in the past, but this time was different. It was like she was trying to hurt me. Like she enjoyed it. She’s never been like that before.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and he hugged her again. “Let’s sit down, kiddo. We need to talk.”
When they had, Zach turned toward Angel. “I think she may have been trying to drive you away. In her mind, for your own good.”
“My own good?” Angel looked at Arianna, then back at Zach. “What do you mean?”
How did he explain and still protect his partner? He decided to keep it simple and vague. “She thinks there’s someone out to hurt the people she cares about.”
“Like a perp?”
“Yeah, like a perp. I don’t know much more than that, but I will. Until then, you need to stay away from her. Both of you. Don’t let her in, not here or at LAM. You think you can do that?”
Arianna looked uncomfortable. “Are you sure about this?”
“Honestly? No. But this way, I’ll know both of you are safe. There’s something strange going on with her.”
“Could it be a dark force?” Arianna asked.
“I thought no, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Okay.” Angel nodded, looked down at her hands, then back up at him, gaze defiant. “She’s wrong, you know. He is coming back for us.”
It wasn’t until Zach pulled away from the curb that he realized Angel had said Seth was coming back for “us,” not for “me.” Even as he told himself it’d been a slip of the tongue, he wondered if it could have been a different kind of slip—one that revealed a secret she was keeping from them all.
But not from Arianna. He pictured the knitting needles and yarn, the baby soft yellow of it.
“It was something I could do for the babies.”
Angel, pregnant? He counted back, and his stomach sank. It was possible. Angel could be pregnant with Seth’s child.
Chapter Thirty
10:10 P.M.
Zach’s Marigny neighborhood came alive at night, with folks from all around the city drawn to the eclectic eateries, funky bars, and off-beat music venues. Zach had been forced to park several blocks away from his place, but he didn’t mind the walk, especially tonight, with his thoughts churning.
And most of them revolved around Mick.
Most. But not all. One of his questions could be dispelled with a phone call. He dialed Parker. Last he’d heard, the Bureau had sent him to the U.K. to meet with Scotland Yard.
He answered immediately, though it was obvious he’d been sleeping. “Special Agent Parker.”
“Uncle P, it’s your favorite nephew.”
“Zach,” —he all but growled his name— “do you know what time it is here?”
“Nope. Don’t care.”
Parker groaned. “Why am I not surprised by that?”
“Got a question for you.”
“Make it quick, if you don’t mind.”
“You happen to know how I can reach the professor and Eli?”
“Come again?” He suddenly sounded way more alert, which was definitely not a good sign. “They’re not at LAM?”
“Or responding to calls, texts or emails. Arianna said they were summoned by the High Council. I figured you knew about it.”
Silence. Then, “Shit. That’s not good.”
“No?”
“No. When?”
“I’m not certain. A couple days ago, I think. Do we need to be worried?”
“Not yet. I’ll make some inquiries and get back to you.” Then, in typical Parker fashion, he hung up without saying goodbye.
Frowning, Zach pocketed his phone. That hadn’t gone as planned. Parker wasn’t a worrier, so for him to sound that concerned, something was most definitely up.
Zach reached his building and buzzed himself in. Halfway up the stairs, he met a neighbor coming down.
“Hey, Zach,” the neighbor said. “How’re you doin’ tonight?”
“It’s all good, Steve. How ‘bout you?”
“Can’t complain.” Steve stopped, and looked back at Zach. “I let your friend in. She seemed cool. Hope that’s okay.”
When Zach reached his door, he saw the friend in question was Mick. She looked more than a little lost, sitting on the floor with her knees drawn to her chest, back against the wall. “Hey,” she said. “Steve let me in.”
“Yeah, I just saw him. He told me.”
“Can we talk?”
He frowned. Something about her didn’t seem right. “I thought you said we shouldn’t talk right now? That being together would be dangerous for me?”
“I need your help, Zach.”
She never asked for help. She’d go down first, fists swinging. He experienced a little pinch in his chest. “Sure. C’mon in.”
He unlocked the door and snapped on the light; she followed him in. “You want something to drink? A glass of wine or a beer?”
“I might need it for what I have to say. So, yeah, a glass of wine. Whatever you have.”
“Being awfully mysterious, Mick.” He motioned toward the living room. “You know where the couch is.”
He returned moments later with her wine and a g
lass of water for himself. She wore that same pensive, vulnerable expression. It still felt like a surprise, and he wondered if he’d ever get used to this Mick.
She took the glass, noting his water. “You’re not going to have one?”
He took the chair across the coffee table from her. “You know drinking’s not my thing. Plus, I have the feeling I’m going to need to be clear-headed.”
“I was kind of out there earlier, huh?”
“A little bit, yeah.”
“Getting that package from Hank . . . it stirred up so many memories. And a lot of pain. And I guess I just . . . lost it.”
She lifted her gaze, her eyes brimming with tears. “The past got all mixed up with the present and I was afraid.”
“Of what, Mick?”
“Of being alone again. And” — she paused to take a deep breath— “of losing you.”
He stood, came around the couch and sat beside her. “You’re not going to lose me.” He put his arm around her and she laid her head on his shoulder. “I think you’re kind of stuck with me.”
The citrusy smell of her shampoo wafted up to him. It shouldn’t have turned him on, but it did. As did the soft sound of her breathing and the way she curled into his side.
Dangerous territory indeed. Lines that shouldn’t be crossed between them. Not here. Not now.
Even so, he tilted her face up to his and kissed her. Softly at first, then deeper, as she melted into him.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he murmured against her mouth.
She slid her hand under his shirt and caressed his chest. “Yes, Zach, we should.”
“Not when you’re like this, Mick.”
“Like what?” she whispered against his ear, then nipped his lobe. “This? Or” —she moved her mouth lower, trailing kisses and nibbles along his neck— “this?”
He groaned. “Yes. I mean, no—”
“You want me, don’t you?” She pushed him backward against the cushions. She hovered above him, eyes smoky with passion, mouth ripe from their kisses. “Isn’t it good?”
It was. Very good.
But wrong. He didn’t know why, but it was.
Zach sat up, easing her off him. “This isn’t why you came here, Mick, and I—”
“Yes, it is. It’s why I came here.” She started to unbutton his shirt. “I wanted to talk about us.”
Fallen Five Page 12
