“What mate hunting?”
Sizzling blue eyes looked steadily into hers. “You think that hot clinch came out of nowhere? You’ve been on my mind a long time.”
Her coffee went down the wrong way. Sure he was hot. But sensible rabbits didn’t have flings with dragons, let alone marry them. She waved a hand and found her voice. “I have to get dressed. Maybe Uncle Wally will let me take a look at the house.”
“You can put your clothes on, but this conversation is only postponed. The fire inspector has been going through your place since first light. I don’t think they’ll let you in until they’ve determined its structural integrity. But for sure they’ll want to interview you.”
“I need a shower.”
“Take your time. I’ll start breakfast.”
She allowed herself a pleasant fantasy in which she lived in the lap of luxury disguised as rustic simplicity The Drakes had had Granny’s little cottage built within a year or two of building this palace. But the former guest house had only a single bathroom that both bedrooms shared. The commode was in a separate little room right next door. Granny said it wasn’t that back in the day folks didn’t wash their hands, but that washstands were standard in bedrooms.
All eight bedrooms in the Drake cottage had their own bathrooms, and there was a powder room on the main floor too. It was only a cottage by comparison with the Big House where Duncan Drake stayed. That house was older and even larger. Of course it wasn’t the only cottage on the estate. Dragon shifters lived a long time and the Drakes had lots of money. Whenever they needed more space, they built another house.
The rain shower head in the bathroom attached to her guest room dispensed a warm gentle spray. She could have stood under it all day, but she had things to do and people to see. And no amount of water was going to wash her troubles away. Even if she left Neil out of the equation, and he was a little solid for that, she had plenty of other worries.
For a start, there was Molly who should be warned. She couldn’t believe that she hadn’t thought of that last night. She wound her towel around herself but her phone was gone. She didn’t have any choice of garments. She was leaping down the stairs, wet hair dripping down her back in moments.
Her phone was on the kitchen counter charging. Neil was beating eggs. “Hungry?”
“I am.” She grabbed her phone. “I need to call Molly. Ferris’ accomplice could have gotten to Seattle by now.”
“Relax. Great-Grandfather took care of that last night. Molly has a bodyguard.”
“Oh. One of your cousins?”
“I imagine SPAR sent whoever they had handy. Someone experienced. Relax. She’s safe.”
Her heart settled down. She dropped into a chair and spoke through the hands covering her face. “I can’t believe I forgot about Molly. We’ve been friends since,” her voiced died. Best friends since forever. Their mothers were friends. They were the same age. They had probably shared a bassinet. How could she possibly have forgotten Molly?
Neil set a fully loaded plate of in front of her. “Spinach omelet, salsa, and toast,” he said. “More coffee?”
“I left my mug upstairs.”
“We can use another.” He filled a clean mug and found the carton of cream. He sat down. The coffee in his mug was inky. “Eat up. We have a lot to settle before the fire inspector comes calling.”
“We do?” she asked warily.
“Yup.”
As soon as she had finished her food, she sent Molly a text. Call me. Even if Molly had a bodyguard, she wanted her friend to personally confirm that she was okay.
“More coffee?” Neil was putting the dishes in the dishwasher.
She shook her head.
He joined her at the table. “Here’s where we stand now. Sheriff’s decided that now that you’ve wrung a proposal out of me, we’re going to act like Ferris went back to the city to nurse his broken heart.”
“Ew. I would never play one guy off against another like that.”
“Glad to hear it. However, for the foreseeable future, your fiancé is one jealous possessive dragon. Until this is over, I want you to be in visual contact at all times, preferably within reach. Think of us as joined at the hip.”
She chewed in silence. She didn’t like it, but protesting seemed foolish. She was in danger. She looked at her silent phone. Checked her messages. Maybe Molly was busy. Or eating lunch. Or had her phone turned off. “Are you sure Molly has protection?”
“I’m sure. To continue, no matter what the fire inspector reports, Wally plans to let Mystic Bay believe that the inspection determined that your house burned down because of an electrical short in the knob and tube. Squirrels in the attic.”
Plausible. And at least Uncle Wally wasn’t feeding the rumor that she had been careless. But she had another thought. “Why would the accomplice buy that? The Air Patrol was out last night looking for him.”
“In an unrelated incident,” he said smoothly, “a tourist lost control of his vehicle on the Old Coast road. The Coast Guard and mer-patrol Mer are looking for his body in case the driver went in the water. The Air Patrol over the Old Forest is being supplemented by a foot search today. Your uncle is hoping that the suspect will be lured out because he thinks he got away with attempted murder and arson.”
“What if I don’t want to be the cheese in the trap anymore?”
“Too late. All we can do is make sure you don’t become Swiss cheese.”
“Thanks for that visual.”
CHAPTER 12
Neil~
She pushed her plate away, face shadowed.
“Wally will be by with the fire inspector any minute. It’s time you brought me up to speed, sweetheart.”
“What do you want to know?” Blythe was bummed.
If ever a bunny needed a cuddle it was her. Better not. He wanted to know exactly how she had gotten roped in by SPAR. And if she had been boinking Ferris. But what he asked was, “What exactly was your relationship with Ferris?”
She sighed. “According to SPAR, he’s a low-level psychic con artist. Specializes in separating women from their money. You know the sort of thing. Move in on a woman, establish a relationship, get her to give you money. Vanish. SPAR assigned me to take some photos of him with a few women to convince another one of his victims to prosecute. He confronted me and I explained that he and his companion had wandered into my photo shoot. To allay his suspicions, I gave him my business card.”
Neil forbore to comment. But he was furious. Giving her name and address to a known psi-criminal, that was going to end well. Not. “Go on.”
Blythe must have seen something in his face for she smiled weakly. “I told my handler, who said to play along.” She and Molly had been thrilled to be real investigators. But it was probably not a good idea to reveal that they had told Hyland about her inheritance.
“Whose idea was it for you to lure him to Mystic Bay?” he demanded.
“No one’s. SPAR thought they finally had enough evidence to turn him over to regular law enforcement. My involvement was supposed to be over.”
He bared his teeth.
She smiled weakly. “Anyway, there’s a lot of paperwork involved with any death. Mom and Dad had their vacation booked, and in any case I’m Granny’s executor. So I told the folks to go ahead and home I came. The next thing I knew, Ferris is on the island and asking me out. My handler said to keep it light and friendly until they could pick him up, so I did.”
“You think Ferris and his accomplice tag-teamed you?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t notice any difference in how they smelled. But you know how it is? If they were similar enough, I would just attribute any difference to something they ate. Or different soap. You don’t smell with your nose, you smell with your brain. And my brain was expecting one con man, not two.” She shrugged. “I feel like an idiot, but I honestly didn’t notice.”
CHAPTER 13
Blythe~
“You see why I think you’d b
e safer in Seattle,” Wally said. “If Dallas Sheppard is looking for revenge, I don’t have the manpower to keep you safe here. And it’s looking like those two are a sight more than psychic Romeos.”
“Are you kicking me off the island?” Blythe demanded.
Uncle Wally reddened. “Now, don’t be like that. I just want you where SPAR can put up a firewall.”
“Can I get in the house?” Blythe changed the subject. “I need clothes and stuff.”
“Inspector Swann found your purse.” Wally indicated her trusty black crossbody bag. “But the stairs aren’t safe. So no clothes. And the fire inspectors aren’t exactly done. And you won’t get anything from your insurance to make repairs until we catch and charge Dallas Sheppard.”
Neil covered her hand with his and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t worry about rebuilding. Money won’t be a problem. Whatever happens, we’ll make sure your house is good as new. What I don’t understand, Sheriff, is why if you think Dallas is off island, you think Blythe is at risk here.”
“Because we don’t know either way. It’s way too easy for that bastard — pardon my French, Blythe — to slip ashore at some pocket beach. The merfolk are good but they all have day jobs. Lotta coast on West Haven.”
“On West Haven we have a lot of hunters to watch our backs,” protested Neil. “We’ll be exposed in Seattle.”
“In Seattle you can hide anonymously. Just try checking into an inn in Mystic Bay. It’ll be common knowledge in ten seconds.”
This was sadly true.
“The thing is,” Wally went on, “those hunters can’t be in two places at once. Who do you think is out in the Old Forest this afternoon, looking for tracks and trying to find out if our perp is still in there? Mighty hard to prove a negative. And it’s not as if the Old Ones speak. Wouldn’t be the first time someone ran afoul of the forest and disappeared without a trace. Could be Dallas is making himself comfy in there.”
This was true. The Old Ones were giant sequoias, some of them thousands of years old. A few of the residents had a rapport with them, but no one controlled them. And they were perfectly capable of altering trails and destroying evidence as they pursue their own vengeance. But if Dallas behaved himself, he could drift alone without being troubled. Not like the Old Ones were watchdogs.
“I wouldn’t think a city crook would last long in the Old Forest,” Neil objected. “Anyway, I always understood that the trees could detect ill will.”
“So they say,” Wally said. “But we’ve got to be sure. I’m not calling off the search just yet. Besides, much as I hate to admit it, we’re going to need SPAR’s help with this one.”
“Why?” asked Blythe.
“Swann is having the state lab look into the accelerant, but it’s not likely that they’ll ever identify it.”
“No, they won’t.” Neil looked fiercer than ever.
“Why?” asked Blythe.
“Because, based on what we found at the scene of the car fire, Dallas Sheppard used some sort of crystal-based fire starter.”
“What?” she yelped.
Wally nodded. “As soon as we winched that vehicle off the rocks, I knew we were dealing with something paranormal.”
He let them chew on that for a bit. “We found some bitty little blue crystals in the SUV, the same as the fire inspector found in your kitchen, Blythe. Asked Xander Needles to take a look. Xander says they’re glass and they held some sort of paranormal charge although they’re burned out now. Or at least, if they can be retuned, he doesn’t know how. Says he’s never seen anything like them.”
Xander was Molly’s uncle. Like her he was a strong glass talent. If he thought the crystals were psi-charged, that’s what they were. “Where does that leave us?” she asked.
“Well, Swann figured the crystals he found were probably part of a brooch or some such. Fortunately, Neil here put out the fire fast enough that the idea of costume jewelry surviving a blaze didn’t seem odd to the inspector. In fact, he was more interested in the remains of a timer his team found on the kitchen table, underneath what was left of some flowers. Noreen at the florist’s says she sold Ferris-Sheppard a bunch of mixed flowers, and Neil tells me he took flowers into the house. So that fits.”
“I meant about the paranormal fire starters,” Blythe said impatiently.
“Not like we have a forensic laboratory here in Mystic Bay,” Wally said defensively. “Let alone a paranormal one. This is a job for SPAR. They want you and Neil to bring the evidence with you on your way to Seattle.”
“She’s not putting herself in danger,” Neil said flatly. “If the Sheppards are off-island, she’s keeping her head down.”
It was time to put that dragon in his place. “Molly’s still not picking up or answering my texts. I can’t do anything more about Granny’s estate until probate. And the house is uninhabitable, right, Uncle Wally?”
“That’s so.”
“So I’m going to Seattle. I have a business to run. We have a wedding booked for Saturday.”
Neil set his jaw, but he shut up like a good dragon.
“Well, now,” Wally said uncomfortably. “Here’s what we know. The mer-patrol report a couple of small vessels motoring through the channel last night. The fog was pretty thick over where the cruisers and yachts anchor offshore, which is where that inflatable fetched up. The mermen took down the names of the vessels and I’ve got my deputies following up. Could be our suspect got away.”
“All you have to do,” interposed Neil, “is see who headed out where this morning.”
“I wonder why we didn’t think of that?” Wally said. “As it happens, a big pod of humpbacks was spotted and every single one of our overnighters headed over to take a look. I’ve got the Coast Guard and the Fisheries officers trying to keep them from getting too close.”
“Huh.”
“You and Blythe need to be on the 3:15 ferry.” Wally put a little package on the table. “Upholstery contaminated with the paranormal smoke, and those blue crystals.”
“No ferry,” Neil said. “Too easy to watch. We’ll take Great-Grandfather’s helicopter.”
CHAPTER 14
Neil~
It had taken some doing, but he had managed to persuade Great-Grandfather that his presence on the helo wouldn’t be an asset. Neil would have piloted it himself, but he figured that taking responsibility for an aircraft would complicate his mission. SPAR might think he and Blythe were on a courier run, but as far as Neil was concerned, his job was to keep Blythe safe. Period.
Jake Brown, who had acted as Great-Grandfather’s henchman for as long as anyone could remember, took the pilot’s seat. The werewolf was a grizzled veteran on the shady side of sixty. But there are no ex-Marines. Neil wasn’t worried about letting him in on their secrets.
Brown landed them in Friday Harbor as casually as if he did undercover missions every day of the week. “I’ll expect you in ten,” he said. “In twenty I’m coming to get you.”
Neil escorted Blythe into the terminal. The waiting area consisted of four rows of gray vinyl chairs separated by brown plastic-laminate tables. Lots of people to keep an eye on. Everyone from business travelers checking email on their laptops to a foursome of golfers complete with clubs. Damn it to hell. You could hide a lot of weaponry in a golf bag.
“Stay close,” he ordered.
She smiled sunnily up at him. The package of crystals and upholstery was in a Nordstrom’s carrier bag and the bunny had her mojo on. Neil scanned the crowded waiting room, hoping that he was being unobtrusive. Unobtrusive wasn’t easy when you were six-four and moved like a soldier, but he gave it his best shot.
He transferred Blythe to his other side and tried to detour them around a white-haired woman pushing a walker festooned with bulging plastic bags. Thick stockings failed to compress heavy ankles that swelled over white tennis shoes. She was talking to herself, but that didn’t mean anything anymore.
This senior citizen could be on Bluetooth, or she could be
receiving vital communications direct from Betelgeuse. The walker swerved into their path. The woman staggered into Blythe. Bundles went flying and burst open. Blythe apologized and got down on her hands and knees to collect the woman’s possessions.
The conversation with Betelgeuse got louder and more accusatory. Passersby avoided them, glaring at Neil because he was keeping his eyes peeled instead of retrieving what looked like a random collection of articles. What did a gal on a walker need with a bunch of used men’s shoes or an open bag of birdseed?
He was getting distracted. He did another scan of the area. A guy in a navy suit moved away from the counter, eyes on his phone. Off to Neil’s left, a couple of burly, outdoorsy types got up from the waiting area, picked up long camo-covered carriers, and still talking, drifted toward the coffee kiosk.
In seconds Camo Guys would collide with the oblivious Navy Suit. He sniffed. What were the odds he and Blythe would run into a couple of bear shifters in the Friday Harbor Air Terminal? Pretty high. The Pacific Northwest was home to a ton of black bear clans. And bears liked to hunt. But still. His scales itched.
Blythe finished helping the old woman, asked her again if she was okay, got roundly abused for her trouble. She rejoined Neil. “Let’s go,” she murmured.
Before Neil could stop her, still gripping her Nordstrom’s bag, Blythe passed between Navy Suit and a guy in the twenty-something uniform of jeans, gray hoodie and earbuds. Hoodie’s backpack was slung over one shoulder, partially unzipped. When the pair moved on, Blythe’s carrier bag was flat. Hoodie’s backpack was zipped shut. But Blythe wasn’t screaming. She was placidly moving toward the women’s restroom.
Something wasn’t right. Neil turned in a slow circle. The camo-clad bears followed Navy Suit and Hoodie out the main doors. A long black limo was waiting. The driver opened the door. The bears caught up with Navy Suit and Hoodie and slapped them on the back, laughing and braying heartily, like men pleased to unexpectedly encounter old buddies.
Dragon Intrigues Page 5
