Living with the Dead - By Kelley Armstrong Page 0,59
it was a mistake. She leaned over and said something. He nodded. End of conversation. And what she said, I’m sure, is ‘Watch it, that detective could be listening.’ ”
Adams and Marsten were walking away now, ignoring passing taxis, presumably heading to a parked car.
“So do you think your wife lost her nerve?” Finn asked. “Couldn’t turn herself in?”
He blinked his worry away, then said, softly, “No.”
“Neither do they.”
Finn headed down the steps.
“Where are you going?” Damon called.
“Wherever they are.”
HOPE
A necromancer?” Karl said as they got into the car.
“That’s what I was trying to say in the interview room, when I said we shouldn’t talk. I’m sure there was a microphone, but I also think Detective Findlay had another kind of listening device. A ghost.”
“So he’s a necromancer.”
She nodded. “I caught the warning vision when we met Findlay in the hall, but it was so weak it took me a while to figure out his type. Even then, because it was weak, I thought it was someone else in the building. I picked up mild chaos vibes when I got in the room, and I caught a few snippets of his thoughts, enough to tell me what was bothering him. Me. My job.”
“A reporter.”
“A paranormal investigative reporter.”
“Ah.” Karl pulled from the parking lot.
“The third and final clue? He kept glancing toward the door.”
“I noticed that. I thought he was expecting a partner to join us.”
“So did I. But he was looking a little too long, like he was watching or listening. I’ve spent enough time with Jaime Vegas to recognize that look—a necromancer with a ghost in the room. Like when Eve’s around—Jaime can’t help looking her way, listening to her. She’s better at hiding it than he is, though.”
“So we have a necromancer homicide detective assigned to Portia Kane’s murder? A murder involving the Nast Cabal?”
“I agree. When there’s a Cabal involved, there’s no such thing as coincidence.”
“Your mind-reading skills are improving.”
“No, just my Karl-reading skills.”
He checked the mirrors. “So what else am I thinking?”
“That Detective Findlay is a plant. A legitimate homicide detective, but on the Cabal payroll. When the call came in, the Cabal pulled strings, and he got the case. That means we need to find Robyn, and if she hasn’t turned herself in yet, stop her before she does.” She stopped. “Shit. He has our names. Our real names.”
“Not much we could have done about that. He found yours and I wasn’t taking any chances with an alias. My record is clean—”
“I mean, if he reports our names to the Nasts, and they run them against their database, we’re going to pop up. So I need to warn the council. Right now, though, my main concern is Robyn. Between placing that call and getting to the station, something happened.”
“It’s probably just a mix-up. But we’ll make sure of that, obviously. I placed a few calls while I was waiting for you—one to the motel and one to our hotel, in case she did back out and went there.” Another mirror check. “I also called Lucas, and he’s going to contact all the precincts, as Robyn’s legal representative, claiming she wanted to turn herself in alone and was supposed to phone him once she had. He’ll say he hasn’t heard from her, so he’s calling around, seeing whether she went to the wrong one.”
“Good idea. Especially if Detective Findlay is on the Cabal payroll. He probably never made those calls.” She stopped. “Or maybe he already knows where Rob is.”
“Because he has her? I don’t think so. We’ve picked up a tail.”
“Detective Findlay?”
“So I would presume.”
“Let’s lose him, then start looking for Robyn.”
FINN
* * *
FINN LOST ADAMS AND MARSTEN. He’d followed them to their hotel, waited, waited some more, then flashed his badge to the desk, and gotten a room number. He’d sent Damon up. He returned to say they weren’t there.
Finn had been tempted to go up himself and verify this. But Damon was right: it wouldn’t take more than a toe over the line for Marsten to scream harassment. If they were in their room, they obviously weren’t meeting up with Peltier, which is why he’d followed them. If they’d snuck out again, then he’d lost them.
BACK AT THE STATION, they looked at Peltier’s cell phone. Her schedule was entirely business-related. Remembering that barren apartment, Finn wasn’t surprised.
Robyn Peltier seemed to be all business these days. Finn knew what that was like. He’d been in L.A. six years and still didn’t have what anyone