'Then we'll head to your place and continue on from there." He motioned the waiter for the bill. 'Tell me, why are you so desperate to go back to your place? It's not just for money, is it?"
She bit her lip and looked away. "Helen told me to go-"
"Why?"
"She said something about a gift. Only," she hesitated, "there was a gift on my dresser last night, when I went upstairs to get some clothes. I didn't unwrap it. I just shoved it into my bag."
He frowned. "Why would Helen be leaving you a gift?"
"My birthday is tomorrow." Her voice broke slightly, and she took a deep, shuddering breath.
The waiter chose that moment to come along. Doyle quickly paid him, waiting until he was out of earshot again before asking, "Why would she have left a present on your dresser two days before your birthday?" She bit her lip. "She talked to the wind and read our futures. She might have known she wasn't going to be around."
Her voice broke again. He placed a hand over hers. "If Helen had left you that present, then why would she be sending you back to find another?"
"But who else—" She hesitated again, gaze widening. 'The killer did, didn't she? That's how she kept sending those things after us." He nodded. It had to be a beacon of some kind. They'd been found too easily every time. "So we leave it right where it is, and before you take anything else from your house, you let me check it."
"Because you can sense magic?"
He nodded again and stood "Ready to go?"
"No." She grimaced and rose. "But I guess the sooner I get this over with, the better."
They left the restaurant and caught a cab to her house. Kirby climbed out, but stopped near the front gate. "I can't do this." She was staring at the front door, her face pale. "I can't go in there."
He clasped her fingers and squeezed them gently, then turned to study the house. Police tape barred the front door, and he had no doubt they would be back later in the day to search the scene yet again, hunting for the smallest of clues. But like Camille said, they were looking in all the wrong places. There was nothing in any procedural manual that would ever prepare them for something like magic—or the manarel
The tape across the door did mean they couldn't go in that way. And the birches lining the front fence were too far away from the windows to provide climbing assistance. Not that it would be wise to do so in daylight. "Does the garage provide access to the back section of the house?" She nodded. "But there were bits of Ross all over the kitchen. I can't..." Tears glimmered again, and she bit her lip.
He wondered why she was so determined not to show any emotion, to hold it all inside. Had some nut in her past enforced the impression it was better that way?
"Close your eyes, then. I'll lead you through." She glanced at him and nodded. "I guess I can manage that." The garage door wasn't locked. Obviously, security wasn't a major worry to either of them, though he had a suspicion Kirby might be a little more cautious from now on. He closed the door behind them, then followed her through to the backyard. Birches lined the boundaries here as well, casting dappled shadows across the tiny patch of grass. Azaleas brightened the corners of the yard, providing cheerful splashes of yellow, red and orange through the shade.
"Pretty," he said, meaning it.
'Thanks." She plucked a key from under the mat and glanced at him, a smile touching her lips. "Don't tell me that's a dumb place to keep a key, because I already know it is."
"Wasn't going to mention it." Besides, for most professional thieves, door locks were the least of their problems. It was things like pressure pads, heat and motion sensors and all the other varieties of alarms they had these days that provided the worry. "But you could at least try somewhere more original."
"Like what? The potted plant?"
"Actually, if you have to leave out a key, then sticking it to the back of something like a leaf is a damn fine hiding place. Most amateurs don't think of that."
"And most professionals don't bother?"
"Something like that." He took the key from her and opened the door.
"Ready?"
She nodded. He caught her hand and opened the door, leading her into the kitchen. It was like he'd walked into a slaughterhouse. Seeing the pictures was one thing, seeing the reality another. Granted, there were no body parts lying about, but blood was still splashed everywhere, and the outlines of where they'd found the different pieces of humanity littered the floor.
No wonder she had been so fearful to confront this all again. While he was no stranger to the various faces of death, even he found this sickening. He quickly guided her through and up the stairs.
"You can open your eyes now," he said once they were out of sight of the mess below.
She did so, taking a deep breath in the process. 'Thank you." He nodded and touched her cheek, lightly thumbing away a tear. "Any idea where Helen might have hidden this present?"
"In her room, I'd presume." She stepped away from his touch and entered the room to the right of the stairs.