Like she wouldn't recognize his voice? She shook her head.
The man obviously had no idea just how attracted she was to him, despite their little encounter in the car. "Would this be the Gabriel who was supposed to meet me at five to pick up his car?"
He paused. "Yeah. Sorry about that."
"Say that with a little more sincerity and I might actually believe you." She decided it was better not to be a bitch—as much as she might want to—and said, "What came up?"
"Les Mohern."
As he said the name, the memory kicked into place.
"Mohern? Wasn't he one of the names in Jack's book?"
Wetherton swung around at the mention of Mohern's name, his scowl deepening. "What do you know of a man named Mohern?"
His voice was sharp, almost angry, and yet something in the set of his shoulders and the way he stood spoke of fear.
She held up a hand to silence him, which didn't go down well, if the clenching and unclenching of his fists was anything to go by.
Not that she thought he intended to hit her. Wetherton didn't have that much courage.
"Frank Mohern was on Jack's list," Gabriel said, "Les is his brother. He apparently had a meet with your boy tonight."
"A meet he's late for."
"That's because he almost got himself killed. I saved his butt, and he's been singing his little heart out in an effort to get a deal."
"Any particular song I need to know about?"
There was another pause, then, "Most definitely. The Moherns were involved in the original Wetherton's snatch and replacement, and they also happened to witness the murder of the original Kathryn Douglass."
"So he can identify the murderer in both cases?"
"Yes."
Something in the way he said that made her stomach clench.
And she knew, without him saying a word, just who Mohern had probably seen. She forced her voice to remain light, casual, as she said, "Anyone I know?"
Again he paused. "It sounds an awful like the description you gave of the man you know as Joe."
She briefly closed her eyes. Joe. The man who had saved her life. The man who answered her many questions without ever hinting at the whole picture.
The man who might well be the enemy of humankind.
Damn.
As she opened her eyes, air shimmered. She frowned, studying the area to the right of the usher. The shimmer happened again, reminding her briefly of smoke coiling away from a small breeze. Only it wasn't smoke, wasn't just air, but a signal that King was on the move.
"Gabriel, I've gotta go. Meet me later and we'll talk."
"Sam, wait—"
She didn't, cutting him off and putting the phone back into her pocket. With King on the move, the sensation of wrongness had sharpened. And she had a bad feeling that she and Wetherton really should get the hell away from the theater and that man.
"Minister, I'm afraid your date has had a slight accident and has been taken to the hospital. If you'd like, I can take you there."
She gripped his arm as she spoke, intending to forcibly move him on, but he wrenched himself free.