"Why now then?"
Kelli shrugged, avoiding Cyn's gaze. Her eyes darted around the room, coming to rest on the small, battered desk. “Liz sweet-talked a couple of the daytime guards at the front gate, you know. So they wouldn't report her. She's pretty. Did they show you a picture?"
Cyn realized with chagrin that, in fact, no one had given her any physical description of the girl, and she'd been so distracted by Jabril's games that she'd never thought to ask. Real professional, Cyn. On the other hand, the omission lent credence to her belief that they'd hired someone else to do the actual looking. She should have been insulted that her only value was as an irritant to Raphael, but mostly she was amused. They had no idea how irritating she could be. “No, no picture. Does she look like Mirabelle?"
Kelli snorted. “Who knows? Maybe once upon a time, but who can tell now?” She walked over to the desk and pulled open a drawer, sliding her hand all the way to the back and emerging with a couple of bent photos. “This is Liz,” she handed them to Cyn, pointing.
Kelli was right. Elizabeth Hawthorn was pretty. More than pretty. A little too thin for her height, she had long, honey-blond hair, big eyes and a Texas beauty queen smile. In the picture, she was wearing tattered blue jeans that rode well below the glitter of a gold ring in her belly button and a sleeveless tank that revealed far more skin than Jabril would have liked. A loose necklace of some sort completed the outfit, the kind of thing you'd buy from a street vendor of genuine native art. She was leaning against a tall, skinny kid with broad shoulders that were all bone and sinew, as if he hadn't grown into his body yet, or maybe he just didn't get enough regular meals. Given the state of his clothing and hair, Cyn tended toward the latter explanation. “Who's the guy?” she asked Kelli.
"That's Jamie. He and Liz are pretty tight."
"Tight as in..."
"Doin’ it."
"Any chance she's with Jamie?"
Kelli thought about it. “Maybe. But I don't know.” Voices echoed suddenly down the hall and she darted a guilty look at the door. “Look, I've got to go. Can you meet me tomorrow, during the day? The Children's Museum. You know where that is?"
"I'll find it."
"Make it afternoon, I work late here tonight, so like two o'clock. Now I gotta get back to that silver, or I'm not gonna have a day off at all.” She started out of the room, but Cyn stopped her.
"Thanks, Kelli."
Kelli nodded. “Tomorrow at two. I'll be there."
Cyn spent a few more minutes in Liz's room, going through the desk, checking the closet, looking for some indication Liz had planned to be gone awhile. It seemed likely the girl had run, but Cyn didn't want to rule anything out. Not yet. She stood from looking under the bed, brushing dust and lint off the knees of her black pants. “So much for good housekeeping, Mrs. Peach."
With a final look around, she left, closing the door behind her.
Mirabelle was leaning against the wall right outside the kitchen door. There were few lights this far from the main house and Cyn could barely see the young woman.
"I'm pretty much done here,” Cyn said.
Mirabelle straightened and held out a piece of folded, white paper. “Mrs. Peach left this for you. It's the numbers you wanted, for Liz's tutor and the caseworker."
"Do you know her?"
"Mrs. Peach?"
Cyn gave her a little smile. “No. I mean the caseworker."
"Oh! Oh, of course. What an idiot.” She flipped open the paper and looked at the name. “Ramona Hewitt. Sure, I remember her. I'm surprised she's still around. I didn't think any of them lasted that long. It's an awful job.” She was quiet for the space of two breaths. “Mrs. Hewitt cared, though. I really think she did."
"I'll give her a call tomorrow. I'll tell her you said, ‘hi,’ okay?"
"Sure.” Mirabelle nodded. “I'll walk you back to the house, if you're ready. Although the car's probably waiting for you by now, if you want to leave. I mean, if you don't need to see Lord Jabril before you go."
Jabril hadn't seemed too eager to spend anymore time with Cyn tonight. And she certainly had no burning desire to see him. Ever again. “I think I'll call it a night, so the car it is. Thanks."
As they rounded the front of the house, Cyn pulled her coat tight against a slap of wind. “Is it always this cold in Houston?"
Mirabelle smiled. “Not usually, no. We're having a cold spell."
"Just my luck."
As they drew closer to the drive, Cyn saw the same silent vampire who'd driven earlier leaning against the car and looking bored. He straightened when they appeared, glaring at them both, as though it was their fault he'd had to spend his night lurking about the driveway.