Kat blinked. "What?"
"She's alive. She's not dead yet."
"Then why...?"
The question hung in the air, and Gwen sighed. "Can you imagine his reaction if I told him that? I don't know where she is, or what condition she's in. I just know that at this point in time, that little girl lives. It might be a different story in a few hours' time."
"And you got no image at all that could help us find her?"
Gwen shook her head. "It's not a warehouse, though. It's somewhere different."
"Why?" What sick game was this soul sucker playing now?
"I don't know. I could hazard a guess and suggest that maybe she's being kept as a hostage to draw Ethan into a trap. But now that they know we're involved, I very much doubt if they'll try that."
"Which means she definitely could be dead in a few hours."
"I don't know."
There was entirely too much on this case they just didn't know, and kids were dying because of it. She noted the slump in her grandmother's shoulders, and rose. "Why don't you go get some sleep?"
"I might just do that."
Kat offered a hand then carefully pulled her grandmother upright. Gwen cursed as bones cracked, and worry stirred through Kat. The arthritis was definitely getting worse, and despite what she'd said to Ethan earlier, Gran did have a choice. Seline had recently found a way to mute both the visions and her scrying ability, so walking away was, for the first time in fifty years, a true option for her grandmother.
They had a beautiful house in San Francisco with a garden far too neglected. Over the past few months she'd tried suggesting that maybe Gwen should stay home every other mission, but her grandmother wasn't having a bit of it. And the reason was her. They'd been together for close to thirty years — all her life, basically. Gwen wasn't only her grandmother, but mother, confidant and best friend. They were so close it always felt wrong when they were apart for more than a few days.
But that wasn't the problem. The truth was, Kat didn't have anyone else to protect her, and Gwen had no other reason for life. It was an impasse they'd obviously have to solve soon, before the arthritis took over and totally destroyed Gwen's quality of life.
After helping her grandmother into her nightie and then into bed, she checked the windows and locked the shutters. By that time, Gwen was asleep. Kat quietly cleaned up the breakfast mess, munching on the last cinnamon roll as she did so.
A shower and change of clothes followed. But what she needed was sleep, and that wasn't an option until Ethan got back. She wasn't about to leave the door open, and she could hardly expect him to wait outside while Gran and she snoozed. She ignored the imp slyly suggesting that wasn't her only reason and grabbed a cushion off one of the sofas. The day outside was cool, but the sun caressed the porch with warmth. She sat on the cushion and leaned back against the wall. The view wasn't all that inspiring. Beyond her old Mustang there was only a thin expanse of concrete then more connecting motel units, most of which were empty, which was strange, because it was awfully pretty here in winter. But maybe the news of the kidnappings was keeping the tourists away.
She closed her eyes.
She wasn't sure how long she'd slept, or how long he'd sat there, watching her. The awareness of him surfaced slowly — a tingle that rose from her toes and spread gently through every fiber, until her breath caught in her throat.
Like her, he sat on the porch, leaning back against one of the posts supporting the porch railing, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His dark hair was damp, his jaw freshly shaved, and he looked damn fine in black jeans and a dark teal shirt.
"Christmas present from your mother, huh?" she said, eying the shirt with a smile.
He raised an eyebrow. "That psychic intuition?"
His voice flowed over her, as warm as cocoa on a cold night. "I don't know many men who'd walk into a store and buy a teal shirt. If you discount moms, Christmas and birthdays, the only other options are wives or girlfriends."
"Of which I have none."
Of which she was fiercely glad. "Because you're a cop or because you haven't found the right woman?"
"Partially both, partially neither."
"In other words, you're not saying."
He shrugged. "What about yourself? No one waiting back in San Francisco?"
"You've been checking up on me."
"I'm a cop. It's what I do."