I glanced over at Lauren again. The memory of how she had wilted and sounded so very defeated when I offered to give her a lift rose once more. When she had looked up at me, I had wanted to do nothing more than wrap her in my arms and reassure her that everything would be all right. Then when she looked close to tears after I settled her in the car, it had taken every ounce of control not to go inside and trounce Bergman. If she had let so much as a single tear slip, I very likely wouldn’t have succeeded in maintaining my calm.
Turning my attention back to the winding road, I frowned slightly. I couldn’t remember the last time a woman had provoked such a reaction in me. In my line of work, a sense of professional detachment was what kept me alive and kept me from drawing unwanted attention of my own. I didn’t allow my emotions to direct my actions save the few times a mission involved children. Grown women didn’t usually rouse my protectiveness . . . not the way I had felt when Lauren looked at me with such a weary and lost expression in her eyes. Then my name . . .
I gave myself a shake. I was thirty-seven years old. Far too old to lose my head over a woman. Even if she was different. Clearing my throat, I hid a wince when Lauren flinched. She glanced over at me, wariness in her dark eyes. She licked her lips and darted a peek at the space above my head before she turned her face toward the windshield. “I, uh, I suppose you want to know what happened in there.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” I interjected not wanting to distress her any further. “I already know.”
There was a pause and then she jerked her chin in a stiff nod. “Of course. Are you going to take me to the airport?”
“No.” I frowned then asked, “Why would I do that?”
“To make me go to Weard,” she whispered so softly I almost didn’t hear her.
I stared at her for a long moment. “I am not going to do that, Lauren.” When she glanced at me, I held her gaze as I continued, “I told you I would give you a lift back to your flat, and I am a man of my word. I’m going to take you home, no detours. You have my word.”
She didn’t look as though she completely believed me and for a moment I contemplated slowing the car so she wouldn’t hurt herself when she jumped out. She looked like a spooked deer that couldn’t decide if she should run. The urge to soothe her fears welled up with surprising fierceness. I wanted to reach out to her, but kept my hands firmly on the steering wheel. Touching her would most likely send her screaming into the woods, not comfort her.
“I’m not here to force you to go to Weard,” I said, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen. “I don’t believe Bergman will do anything to you either once he has a chance to check your alibi. The note looked as though a madman had penned it. Not the most credible form of accusation, mind you.”
“Why do you believe me?”
“Spotters almost never become threats,” I stated.
At her gasp, I glanced over at her once more. She looked terrified. Her eyes were wide and she took several unsteady breaths before she whispered, “You know.”
“I figured it out when I watched the security footage.” I paused before adding, “It is why I approached you, Lauren.”
“I thought you were digging.”
I almost smiled at the thought. “I am not usually one for digging. I like knowing the facts and being sure I have the winning hand when I need to approach someone.” I sighed, my eyes on the road once more. “In any case, even if you weren’t a Spotter, I wouldn’t think you were involved.”
“Why?”
The words slipped out before I had time to consider them. “My instincts tell me you, Lauren Hope, don’t have the heart for harming others.”
“Are you ever wrong?”
“No. I always listen to my instincts. They’ve kept me alive for years.” They were also telling me that something was off about this whole situation. I just hadn’t been able to figure out what, yet.
The conversation lapsed into silence again and I didn’t attempt to press further. Lauren sat next to me, occasionally shivering. I flipped on the heater, but I did not think her shivers were from the chill as humidity gave away to rain. She still seemed rattled and unsure of herself. She seemed . . . fragile. I would be a poor protector indeed if I pushed her into discussing things that were uncomfortable.
I almost slammed on the brakes as I realized what had slipped into my head. Protector . . . She didn’t need me as a protector. I was there to ensure the paranormal community at large was protected, that Halliman’s firm was protected. I was not there to provide personal protection to a slip of a Spotter who had fallen into the sights of Bergman and possibly others. Yet, my instincts were pushing me, driving me, to open my mouth and offer just that. My personal protection. Something that would be incredibly foolish, given my heritage and how my kind reacted to making such offers.
The rain had eased to a light sprinkle by the time I pulled up in front of Lauren’s building. I set the brake and then glanced at her hand hovering over the keys. “Would you like me to walk up with you?”
She turned wide eyes on me and just as quickly looked away, shaking her head. “N-no, this is fine. Really.”
“Will you be able to get into your flat all right?”
She nodded, still not looking at me. “Yes. The only thing I grabbed.” She rummaged in her rain jacket and pulled a ring of keys out. “See? I, umm, I have to go now. Th-thank you, Mathias. For the ride I mean. And for not, well, I guess not dragging me to the airport. And, saying you believe me.”
Before she had quite finished rambling, she dropped her keys in the floorboard. I took advantage of her distraction to get out and run around to the passenger side. When I opened the door, I put my hand out to help her. She stared at my hand like it was attached to a basilisk before she hesitantly placed her hand in mine. For a moment, I clasped her hand as I helped her out of the car. It bothered me to let go.
I shut the door but didn’t get back in my car until I watched her disappear through the interior doors of her building. I wanted to follow her, just to assure myself that she had indeed gotten into her flat safely, however even I knew better than to do such a thing.
After sliding into the driver’s seat once more, I realized what I would have to do. I couldn’t dare offer my personal protection. Not that I imagined Lauren would even concede to accepting it. Nor could I continue attempting to directly interview her. In all likelihood, attempting such a thing again would only send her vanishing into the night like a little fox seeking to avoid a baying hound.
No. No, I needed to take a different approach to the matter. One that would persuade Lauren I wasn’t a threat to her. Perhaps one that would in turn convince her to allow me to ask more pointed questions about her coworkers at Halliman’s. Despite my dislike of the way Bergman handled Lauren’s interview, there was one thing the chief warden had been right about . . . the simple fact that Harry Smalls had given up Lauren’s name for a reason. Although, he and I certainly disagreed on the nature of that reason. Lauren had mentioned Smalls being on sick leave before he came into the firm with a literal axe to grind. Perhaps, the two were connected.
* * *
Chapter Five
Mathias
I was still mulling the possibilities of Smalls’ holiday having some sort of connection with his attack on the firm when I left Halliman’s late that evening. Lauren had also come into work, but I didn’t attempt to speak to her before she left for the day. I left after shutting my computer down for the day and collecting the handwritten meeting notes, since Halliman was traditional enough to prefer paper filing and note taking to any computerized software. When I had mentioned updating the firm’s filing system to a secure server, he had given me such a look that I feared I would be booted from the firm’s doors before I completed my mission. Instead, he had waxed rather eloquently about the greatest server in the world being unable to keep total secrecy if someone was determined enough. Paper was all the more secure now that people looked on it as being an increasi
ngly antiquated method for compiling and storing information. I wisely held my tongue and even agreed with him.
Of course, this meant that I couldn’t poke around Halliman’s records from the relative comfort of my flat. Instead, I had to slip into the filing room and hunt for the information I wanted. I was able to find both Smalls and Lauren’s personnel files and had slipped them into my briefcase. Someone was attempting to tie the two together, and I wanted to understand why. Maybe something in them would help me. I didn’t acknowledge that I had pulled Lauren’s file first because I wanted to find out more about her. The urge to know about her, understand her, and simply know her better was nearly overwhelming. Yet, I didn’t quite understand it.
I had just pulled out onto the street when the burner cell I reserved for work calls rang. The traffic around me came to a standstill at a light, and I put the phone on speaker before setting it on my lap. “Mathias.”
“Do you have a report?”
I frowned as I recognized the voice. I hadn’t met the man attached to it, but he had taken over as my handler for this mission. Never thought I would miss hearing Saul’s wheezy voice, and the pixie had been far more informative and knew how to work with me. This man . . . ‘Management’ was impatient and mealy mouthed about everything. Yet, he was the one who had sent me to Halliman’s searching for a threat.
“Well?”
I frowned at the phone for a moment before redirecting my attention to the road as traffic started moving again. “It is still too early to determine the validity of the threat to the firm.”
A sneer entered Management’s voice as he responded, “Statements such as that are what make me question whether your record is truly accurate about your . . . expertise.”
My gaze narrowed as my grip on the steering wheel tightened. I didn’t bother to disguise the coolness in my voice as I retorted, “In following your orders to go into the situation with an open connection to Weard, I was unable to establish a true undercover status. As a result, it appears that my presence on site has caused the suspects, whoever they may be, to lie low. As I warned you would likely happen. Therefore, I am currently unable to move forward in my investigation until the responsible party makes a mistake.”
“You were sent in because you are Weard’s top hunter,” Management snapped. “You need to finish the job and finish it soon because I’ve already promised your services elsewhere.”
I tensed. I had firm rules about not being committed to more than one job at a time. Saul had known that and it was in my contract with Weard. Now this faceless voice from management was attempting to not only do that, but also push me into rushing an investigation. Something I never did. Cold fury flowed through me, and I strangled the steering wheel as I stopped at another light.
Before I regained my calm enough to speak, Management was talking again. His tone now turned oily and too congenial as he abruptly asked, “Have you come across any Spotters in your travels lately?”
I frowned, my mind flashing to Lauren. Had Weard been watching her? I hadn’t been told to watch for any Spotters or to expect to come across the rare species. “I will continue to watch for any Spotters if that’s become a new focus. However, you should know as well as I that it’s almost impossible to detect a Spotter. Unless they are actively using their talent and approach someone with a warning.” I paused and then asked, “Have Spotters become a new focus for the company?”
There was a long silence and then Management uttered a curse invoking several deities from the Hindi pantheon. Fortunately, the old gods weren’t inclined to listen to anyone who remembered to call on them now. Nor did those among the paranormal who had once been counted as old gods still have the power to answer. When he ceased cursing, his voice had turned tense and his words clipped as he said, “You will report anyone you suspect of being a Spotter to me.”
The call ended with a click, and I tossed the phone into the passenger seat. I didn’t trust Management. Something was going on that I had been kept in the dark about, and it seemed connected with Saul’s sudden departure as my handler. And, possibly this mess of a puzzle at Halliman’s. As I continued driving to my flat, I couldn’t help being immensely grateful that I had ignored Management’s attempt to put me in a crowded hotel in the heart of downtown Seattle. Why he thought I would want to commute that far, I didn’t know. It also made things easier for getting my own flat in Olympia proper, which distinctly lacked spies.
* * *
Lauren
I shut the door to my apartment and then leaned back against it with a heavy sigh. If no one asked me about Harry for a hundred years, no, two hundred years, it would be too soon. As it was, I had thought I would scream if the girls didn’t stop whispering about the horrible tragedy. Why had I thought it would be better to go back to my old desk instead of filling in upstairs?
I had seized the excuse of a potential new hire coming up to go back to the safety of the fourth floor. I should have just stayed upstairs. If it wasn’t the other three girls asking me if I had heard, they were gossiping about theories for why Harry would do such a thing. I had cut off Beth’s speculations no less than five times before I managed to stay busy enough with answering calls and patching them through to other floors that I almost managed to avoid any further questions.
As it was, I was certain I had been on the receiving end of far too many speculative looks. They couldn’t have known that I was questioned about Harry. Only Mathias knew, and he didn’t strike me as the type given to gossip. He wouldn’t betray me. The certainty I felt at the thought was . . . odd. I shouldn’t feel so certain and I shouldn’t trust anyone, much less Mathias. He was a paranormal with a permanent glowing 10 as his number, for goodness’ sake! That alone should keep me from trusting him. Never mind the fact that as someone whose life has been spent looking over her shoulder and hiding from anything that might draw unwanted attention, I should know better than to trust. Everyone betrays someone at some point.
Mathias and his air of honor and sincerity was no different. And, I shouldn’t even want him to be different. Him being different was dangerous because it meant he was unpredictable.
My brain offered the memory of his sincere tone and equally sincere gaze when he said he wasn’t going to make me go to Weard. I shook it away as I pushed off the door and crossed to my bedroom. This whole thing had rattled me or else I wouldn’t have gotten into the car with Mathias yesterday. I ran my fingers through my hair, fluffing it, before slipping out of my coat and heels. I groaned as I sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed my feet. I had almost twisted my ankle in escaping down the stairs before the girls could corner me after work. Clattering down in my heels had been a horrible idea, and I had just barely made it into the elevator to the garage before Beth wove her way through the crowd to reach me.
By the time I traded my pencil skirt and blouse for jeans and a dark green sweater, I was giving serious thought to collapsing on the bed. Maybe, if I lay there and pretended the world didn’t exist for an hour or two, I would be struck with a magical solution for making everyone forget I existed. For some reason, though, the thought of Mathias forgetting me didn’t bring a feeling of satisfaction or even relief. If anything, I felt . . . sad.
I ran a hand over my face as another groan escaped me. Delicious accent or not, I shouldn’t feel any sort of attachment to Mathias. Determined to drive the man from my brain, I padded on bare feet into the kitchen.
Staring at the empty cabinets, closing the doors, and then opening them fully preoccupied me for almost ten minutes. I checked my refrigerator. I had some milk, orange juice, a couple cans of soda, the last of some lunchmeat, and a bottle of ketchup. Closing the door and then opening it back up did not cause any changes. When were the Fae going to invent a self-stocking refrigerator?
My stomach growled and I desperately searched the cabinets again, hunting for something I could turn into a meal. If I had anything resembling bread, I would make a pitiful sandwich and be done. I grabbed a box
of cereal only to peer at its silent and far too light innards, which were depressingly empty of cereal. Throwing the box away, I briefly considered not going shopping. My stomach growled again, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten today.
There was a knock at the door and I tensed. The cabinet door slipped from my grasp and shut with a bang making me jump and yelp. Another knock, more intense. I edged out of the kitchen keeping a wary eye on the door. Whoever was out there had stopped knocking. I held my breath, praying they would just go away.
The thought of being dragged to the holding facility again sent a shudder down my spine. But would forcing them to break down the door to reach me help my cause? Thinking back to Warden Bergman’s hard grey eyes, I knew the answer to that was a solid no. Shaking, I forced myself to go up to the door. I jumped and almost screamed again when the knock came again. The peephole did me no good since a past resident had apparently stuffed some sort of gunk into it, effectively blinding me to any and all visitors. I left the chain on the door as I opened it just enough to see out.
I blinked at the sight of Mathias holding a pizza box. He offered me a little half smile as he nodded. “Ah, Lauren. I was beginning to worry that you had decided to shun me.”
Rogue Spotter Collection Page 6
