by Adams, Cat
anyone would share information with
me.
I was angry at Okalani, angry at
myself. But mostly, I was afraid. These
people were playing for keeps. If they
found her before I did … “Don’t think
about it, Graves. Just find her.”
I dialed the number Laka had left for
me. She picked up on the first ring; her
hello was breathless with hope and the
raw edge of tears.
“It’s Celia.”
“Have you heard from her?”
“No. But I have an idea of where to
look. I need you to call the university.
Tell them you’re her mother. Find out
what she listed as her home address, or
if she listed her father’s numbers in case
of emergency. Then call me back at this
number. Can you do that?”
“She’s a student at the university?”
“Yes. Paranormal studies.”
“Oh, I … I didn’t know.” She sounded
hurt and confused. I could understand,
even sympathize, but we didn’t have
time.
“Can you call?”
“I’ll do it now.”
“Good. Call me back with the
information at this number.”
I hung up and made a quick call to
Dom’s direct line at FBI headquarters. It
went to voice mail. I left a vague
message for him to call me, that it was
important, but didn’t give any details.
After all, there was a chance I would
find Okalani before he called and save
myself a lot of trouble.
I debated calling Queen Lopaka and
decided that talking in person would
work better. So I distracted myself with
packing my things while I was waiting
for Laka’s call, taking special care with
the previous night’s outfit.
As a courtesy, I stuck my nose out the
door. I was pleased to see who was
standing there.
“Hey there … partner. We need to
leave in ten.”
Baker let out a little laugh. “Good. I’ll
make sure the car is ready.” If I’d spent
as much time in airports as she had
lately, I’d have looked a wreck. But
Baker’s hair and makeup were perfect,
her charcoal gray suit was crisply
pressed and beautifully tailored. There
was no hint of all the weaponry I knew
she was wearing. She looked as fresh as
a very professional daisy. “By the way,”
she assured me, “the estate is clear. You
can go home if you want. Our people are
on the way to check out your office
now.”
“Cool. You can stay in the guest room.
Hope you packed a bag, Agent Baker.”
She smiled; apparently she’d expected
the offer. Likely if I hadn’t made it, she
would have found a reason to suggest it.
“I did.” She stepped into the suite,
closed the door, and watched me gather
the last of my things. “And please,
Princess, if we are to be partners, you
should call me Helen.”
“Then I’m Celia, not Princess. Tell
you what, Helen. Let’s go shopping in a
great place I know. We’ll get lots of
shiny things that go bang.” She laughed
and held the door for me. I liked that she
looked both ways, hand on her weapon,
when she did so. Yes, I wanted to go
home, but more than that I wanted to get
to my office and stock up on weaponry.
I’d picked up quite a few things at the
Levys’. I mean, seriously, how could I
not? But given what was going on, I
wanted gear I was familiar with. It was
a real pity about the Colt, but the police
wouldn’t be giving it back until they
were damned good and ready. The
derringer was with Adriana and
probably needed to stay there. Until I got
a chance to take it to the range and fire
it, the Glock Bruno had given me was
new and unfamiliar enough that I didn’t
quite trust it. Yeah, I know Bruno takes
care of his weapons. That wasn’t the
point.
I didn’t see myself having time to go
to the range in the next couple of days. I
had to find Okalani and get back to
guarding Adriana.
I had drawn even with Baker when the
phone rang. I sighed and Baker did as
well. Then I answered. As I was
calming Laka and getting information out
of her, trying to convince her there was
no need for her to come to the mainland,
Baker … Helen was on her radio,
making sure our car was being checked
again for any possible threats and
making changes to our travel plans that
ensured that if Laka was phoning duress,
nobody would be able to intercept us.
Wow. Even more paranoid than me. I
really did like her.
But I doubted that Laka’s breakdown
could be faked. Waiting was eating her
alive. She was terrified for her child and
wanted, needed, to be doing something.
Unfortunately,
there
really
wasn’t
anything she could do. I told her the best
thing she could do was stay right where
she was, even though it’s not what she
wanted to do. She wanted to be out,
pounding the pavement, knocking on
doors, calling random houses to see if
anyone had seen her daughter. I
understood. I’d been there.
Checking out of the hotel didn’t take
long. A heavily armored luxury sedan
waited at the curb with William Griffiths
at the wheel. Baker got in front. I had the
backseat to myself. I debated where to
go first as Griffiths waited patiently for
instruction. Finding Okalani and bringing
her in for questioning was a priority. I
was going to do my best to find her, but
the fact is, the authorities all had better
resources and more people to throw at
that problem. She might hate me for it
after, but we could both live with that.
The question was, who to approach
first? “Take me to the hospital, please. I
need to speak to my aunt.”
“What about the office?” Helen
looked at me quizzically. No doubt she’d
heard stories about my safe. She would
be disappointed in the new one. My old
safe was much cooler.
I tipped my head. “Can’t take
weapons in there anyway. Why load up
my pockets, just to unload them?”
“Point.” To her credit, she didn’t say
anything else.
“Right.” Griffiths punched the address
into the GPS system and pulled smoothly
away from the curb.
A comfortable silence fell, broken
only by the impatient tapping of my
fingers against the leather armrest.
“Screw it,” I muttered after a few
minutes’ thought. Maybe Okalani’s
father was a villain. But he was her dad.
She loved him. Maybe he loved her, too.
This might be a bad idea, but I didn’t
have any really good ones. Pulling the
note from my jacket pocket, I dialed the
daytime emergency contact number Laka
had given me. I nearly dropped the
phone when a pleasant, recorded voice
answered:
“This is the Santa Maria de Luna
Police Department. If this is an
emergency, please hang up and dial
nine-one-one. If it is a nonemergency,
please enter the extension number now.
To reach our company directory, press
seven.”
Oh, shit.
Okalani Clark, Ricky and Okalani’s
daughter, was Okalani CLARKE. With
an E. Laka’s former husband was my hit-
and-run driver and would-be killer, J.
Clarke. Ricky was a nickname. Maybe
his middle name was Richard. Not that it
mattered.
I sat there, cursing myself inwardly
for being so incredibly dense. How had I
missed something so obvious?
The pleasant recording responded to
my nonresponse. “I’m sorry, I didn’t
recognize your entry. If this is an
emergency, please hang up and dial
nine-one-one. If it is a nonemergency,
please enter the extension number now.
To reach our company directory…”
I pressed a series of numbers from
memory. I needed to talk to Alex.
She picked up on the first ring.
“Detective Alexander.”
“Alex, it’s me.”
She gave a huge sigh. “Now what?”
“Gee, glad to know you’re happy to
hear from me.”
“Celia, I like you. I really do. But
every time you call, there’s trouble, and
not just little trouble, either. Your
trouble usually comes with a body count.
So don’t be surprised if I’m not thrilled
to hear from you.”
“Well,
crap.”
There
was
an
uncomfortable pause.
She was the one to break it. “Well?
What is it?”
“I have a problem.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “Of course
you do. Tell me.”
I started with the hit-and-run attempt
and kept right on going until I reached
the present, with Okalani missing and
Jan Mortensen wanting her dead. “I
could be wrong. Hell, I hope I’m wrong.
I like the kid. And I don’t ever like to
think about there being crooked cops in
the department.”
“Nobody does,” Alex agreed. Her
voice was serious. “Rick’s not with the
department anymore. He was asked to
resign a couple of weeks ago.”
That shocked me. The PD doesn’t fire
someone lightly. There are long,
complicated
processes
involving
internal affairs and board hearings. “He
was asked to resign?”
For a long moment we sat in silence.
I’d just come to the conclusion that she
wasn’t going to answer me when she
sighed and started talking. “Several very
valuable things went missing from
evidence. Everybody from the Chief on
down had to take a polygraph. Anyone
who
refused
would
be
put
on
suspension, pending investigation.”
“I take it the investigation went badly
for him?”
“There wasn’t enough proof to satisfy
the DA. But, yeah. He did it. We don’t
know exactly how he did it. But we
know it was him.”
I had a pretty good idea how he’d
done it. I didn’t like getting Okalani in
trouble with the cops, but this would
give Alex a great excuse to bring the kid
in for questioning if she found her. It
might even save the girl’s life. She’d be
safer, harder to get to, in police custody.
Assuming of course she’d stay there.
“Did you know Clarke has a kid?”
“Had. He had a son. Kid got drained
by vamps after a football game a couple
of years ago.”
“Has,” I corrected her in turn. “A
daughter, who was raised by her siren
mom on Serenity. She’s the teleporter
who helped us when we put Dahlmar
back on his throne. She moved to the
mainland to live with her father. She’s
admitted to me that she can take things
through magical barriers. You might
want to bring her in and talk to her about
it, and while you’re at it, you might ask
her
about
her
father’s
anti-siren
sentiments and their connection to Jan
Mortensen.”
Alex’s breath whooshed out in a low
hiss. “Why are you bringing this to me?
You know the feds are going to want to
talk to her.”
“So are King Dahlmar and Queen
Lopaka’s people. I thought I had her
stashed safely away, but she bolted. I
think she’s trying to save her father.
That’s the first place Mortensen and the
others will look for her. She’s in
trouble, a lot of trouble. You may be her
best shot.”
Alex paused. “So, find Ricky and we
find the girl?”
“I think so.”
The thumping I heard might be Alex’s
fingers drumming on the desk. “I
shouldn’t be telling you this, but I heard
he’s gotten himself a job working
security for one of the big movie studios
outside of L.A. But we’ll check it out.
No civilians on this one.”
“Thanks, Alex.”
“Whatever.” She hung up on me
without saying good-bye. That hurt, but
not enough to matter. Not today.
18
I we nt to see my aunt to ask her to be
merciful. After all, the queen knew
Okalani. The kid had been helpful during
the whole situation with King Dahlmar a
couple of years ago. Hiwahiwa, the
queen’s personal assistant, was close to
Laka and Okalani as well. I hoped that
Queen Lopaka would take all of that into
consideration and be lenient. My
mistake.
“High treason is a capital offense.”
I was in my aunt’s hospital room,
sitting in the chair beside her bed. It was
a small room filled with lots of
equipment and I was feeling a little
claustrophobic,
especially
since
equipment was hardly the only thing in
the room. Flowers covered nearly every
flat surface, towering arrangements from
heads of state around the world. A
saltwater aquarium bu
rbled beside me,
colorful fish swimming in lazy circles.
The sound and sight were soothing. I
needed to be soothed. Her Royal
Majesty was not feeling the love right
now. There was no mercy in her for a
subject who’d conspired with terrorists.
Normally I would’ve agreed, which
made me less than effective at arguing on
Okalani’s behalf. But I was doing my
best, playing up the young woman’s past
service. “She saved your life, if you
remember, and kept Dahlmar on his
throne. Adriana wouldn’t have met him
if not for Okalani. She ferried mages
back and forth when the rift was
chewing up the world. All while
knowing she could die at any time.
Really, she’s done a lot of good for the
sirens.”
The queen sat rigidly straight—she
would’ve been upright even if the bed
hadn’t been adjusted to the sitting
position. She was wearing a lovely
peignoir the shade of pink you find
inside the bend of a conch shell. Her
color was good. Apparently her
recovery was progressing rapidly now
that the doctors had consulted with
physicians from Serenity who were,
naturally, more familiar with siren
biology. “You act as though Okalani is
still a child. Perhaps in your world she
is. But in our world, she is not. I, myself,
had been on my throne for three years by
the time I was her age.”
“But you are … extraordinary. Most
people are not.”
“I admire your compassion.” Her tone
of voice contradicted her words. She
heard that thought, or else she read my
body language, because she said, more
gently, “Truly. I do.”
One of these days I was going to have
to learn to shield.
Yes, you will. In truth, you have
much to learn. I understand your
feelings. I even admire them. But I am
queen. I have been so for hundreds of
years. My first duty is to my people.
Okalani betrayed us. That betrayal cost
lives—siren lives and human lives. She
worked willingly with people whose
goal is to exterminate us like vermin.
Even sincere contrition is simply not
enough. She must pay for her crimes,
and the law established by my people is
clear. The punishment is death. But if
she cooperates, shares everything she
knows, I will allow her an … honorable
death.
What the heck was that? I don’t
understand.
Her actions have dishonored her
entire family. Her mother, any siblings,
the family for three generations in
