Cyn usually didn't drink, but today she'd make an exception. “I'll have an Absolut on the rocks, with a couple of olives and...” She looked at Hewitt, but the caseworker shook her head. Cyn pointed at the Scotch. “Can you put that on my tab and keep it open. Oh, and something to eat, maybe...” She grabbed the bar menu and perused it quickly, making a little face at the choices. “Far Eastern Bites, I guess, whatever that is.” The waiter nodded and took off, stopping at another table on the way.
"Busy in here,” Cyn commented.
"It's Friday,” Hewitt said. “People like to start their weekend early.” She took a sip of her Scotch and Cyn noticed she was drinking it neat. A real Scotch drinker then, which Cyn hadn't expected. Hewitt seemed more like the sherry type to her.
"So why didn't you tell me you cofounded Jessica's House?” Hewitt said.
Cyn shrugged. “Because I didn't. That's Luci's baby, not mine. She does all the work. All I did was write a check."
"Quite a big check."
"No more than Luci's. She had this dream when we were in college to create a place where runaway kids could feel safe. More like an obsession, really. It was the only thing she ever talked about. I wasn't that dedicated, but I believed in Luci and in what she was doing. I'm not that much of a people person, so I took the easy way out and wrote a check."
"And became a private investigator."
"Well,” Cyn smiled slightly. “I became a cop first. Luci probably told you. Mostly to irritate my father, but I enjoyed it for a while."
"But not forever."
"No. Not forever. Like I said, I'm not much of a people person. I work better alone."
The waiter arrived with her drink and the promise of food to come. Cyn waited until he'd left, then took a long sip of her vodka, feeling it smooth away the snarls of the day, a nice warm slide all the way down. “So. You called."
"I did,” Hewitt said. “How much do you know about Jabril Karim and his outfit?"
"More than most, less than some, I suppose. I know about vampires and how they work in general, their hierarchy and such. Jabril's got real power within their society, both personal and political. I wouldn't underestimate him. But as far as the two sisters go, Mirabelle and Elizabeth? I only know what I've been told, which isn't much. I can tell you without question Mirabelle is a virtual prisoner out there, and Jabril wants her money and nothing else. As for the Hawthorn Trust, it's a matter of public record, and I assume there are private assets as well. What I don't know is how he got ahold of her in the first place. He claims to be Liz's legal guardian too, is that right?"
"Yes, it is.” Hewitt's jaw tightened in anger. “You may not believe this, but I tried to stop that from happening. I was the original caseworker assigned to the CPS evaluation, and I recommended strongly against granting that ungodly creature custody over those two girls. Just babies, they were. Fifteen and ten years old. What kind of a system would turn those children over to a monster like that? I didn't understand it then, and I don't understand it now. Even after what he did to Mirabelle, plain as day, no one said a peep.” She leaned across the table, one fingertip pressed into the lacquered wood for emphasis. “It's money, is what it is. The whole system's bought and paid for. A smart guy like Jabril—I may not like him, but he's wily as a snake—a man like that knows where to put his money to do the most good. Those girls never had a chance."
"They didn't have any other family? No one with a better claim?"
"A half sister up in Maine somewhere, from their father's first marriage. There was a lot of bitterness in the divorce and she was quite a bit older than the girls. I contacted her, but she wasn't really interested. You would have thought the money alone would bring her, but no. She had enough of her own, I guess. Or maybe she's one of the ten people left on Earth who don't care about money, I don't know. I recommended foster care. For all its problems, it would have been better. But I don't think the judge even saw my report. My former supervisor took the case over and the hearing was held in private, to protect the children's privacy, they said.” She snorted. “To keep the whole damn thing a secret, more likely. They handed those girls over and never looked back. Judge retired a year later, a nice fat pension and a vacation house in the Bahamas. My supervisor? She got a shiny new job over in the mayor's office. Bought and paid for, I say."
"What's the deal with the money? The parents must have had a separate minor trust of some sort, in addition to the Hawthorn Trust. You can't turn over that kind of cash to kids."
"No, indeed, the parents were smart. I don't think they figured on Jabril Karim sticking his nose in, but they did what they could. The trust takes care of each girl ‘til she's eighteen; they get all of the income until then, but can't touch the principle. At eighteen, each inherits fifty percent straight out. In Mirabelle's case, that effectively puts all of her assets at Jabril's disposal since, as I understand it, those vampires are controlled by whoever creates them.” Cyn nodded and Hewitt continued. “The parents put in a little twist, something to help the girls grow up a bit before they started making their own decisions. If either of them dies before she turns twenty-five, her share of the trust goes right to the family's charitable foundation. No other heir can be named, not even the surviving sister."
"Which is probably the only reason Mirabelle is still alive."
"If you call it living. The law does, so I guess that's all that matters, but it's a crime what he did to that girl. A plain crime."
"And Liz ran because Jabril intends to do the same thing to her once she turns eighteen?"
"That's right. Oh, he'll claim it was her choice, exactly like he did Mirabelle, but it won't be. If there's one thing I know for certain it's that Elizabeth Hawthorn wants nothing to do with Jabril Karim or any other vampire. She's a perfectly lovely young woman who wants to grow up, get married and have babies like every other good American girl."
Cyn had to smile, wondering what Hewitt would think of the choices she'd made in her life. “This is—” She broke off as the waiter appeared again to slide a platter of Asian tapas onto their table, along with smaller plates, napkins and silverware.
"Another drink?” He nodded at Cyn's nearly empty glass.
"Not for me.” She glanced again at Hewitt's glass. “Another Scotch? Or something else?"
"I've got to drive home,” Hewitt said with real regret, shaking her head. “I'll stick with this one."
"Nothing more, then,” Cyn said to the waiter. He dashed off again, weaving his way through crowds grown even thicker while they'd been sitting there. Popping what she hoped was an egg roll into her mouth, Cyn chewed thoughtfully, then said, “Okay, so what you've told me so far is pretty much what I expected. But what I'd really like to know is if you have any idea how I can get Mirabelle away from him for even a couple of hours. Long enough to get her on a plane and on her way out of Texas."
Hewitt looked even more shocked than Kelli had. “This is not a creature to take lightly, Ms. Leighton."
"Cynthia,” Cyn suggested. “Or Cyn."