Wild Country (The World of the Others #2)- Anne Bishop Page 0,160

work. It sounded like it had been one time too many if Anya was calling the doctors to check on employee health.

The cleaning service she worked for was run by a human, and a good worker would be given some leeway, mainly because there were more jobs than workers right now. Still, sweet Abigail wouldn’t shrug off her job unless a friend needed help.

Six rooms. Six stones. While the young man took care of the bathrooms, Abigail used a penknife to slit each mattress near the headboard and shove one of the black stones into the slit before making up each bed. The dissonance in the stones would wrap around the person as he slept, and even something that looked like good fortune would have a sting.

They had finished up and she had been about to leave when she saw her father.

So close. A few minutes earlier and he might have seen her coming out of one of the rooms. Now …

Her mobile phone buzzed. She pulled it out of the pouch she used for personal items—a shapeless embroidered thing that suited sweet Abigail.

“Hello?” she whispered.

“Abby? It’s Jana. Where are you?”

Where was she supposed to be this afternoon? And where could she say she was now? “I’m … I’m at the coin-operated laundry near the hotel.”

A moment of puzzled silence on Jana’s end of the line, but it was the only place nearby that Parlan Blackstone wouldn’t visit and Abigail could hide.

“Stay there,” Jana said. “And stay out of sight. I’m coming to get you.”

So the wannabe deputy knew Parlan was in town and he meant danger. She could work with that.

After all, she didn’t have to fake being afraid.

* * *

* * *

The jewelry store looked more like a pawnshop that specialized in glass being passed off as real gemstones and baubles that no self-respecting thief would bother to take. Oh, pretty enough for women who couldn’t tell the difference, but a disappointment to him. Still, if that’s what they were selling in Bennett, Lawry wouldn’t even have to run a con in order to swap junk for high-end pieces of jewelry.

Parlan studied the man who stood behind the back counter—the one place that had a few decent pieces with actual gemstones. Early thirties, thinning blond hair, carrying a bit too much weight for his frame. A soft man.

But in other hands, the store could be a useful way to move jewelry and jewels that were acquired by less than legal means. Lawry might prefer that to working in a saloon, and it would be a place to stash goods for associates. Yes, that might be better than all of them working in the same business. Diversify to establish roots quickly.

“Do you sell pieces on commission?” Parlan asked.

“Those two cases all have jewelry that was brought in by the salvage company. They get a percentage from the sales.”

“Costume jewelry. Trinkets.” It took effort not to sneer at the junk. “They don’t bring in anything with gems?”

A hesitation. Something in the eyes.

Parlan swore silently. The jeweler was a fucking Intuit. And wary of him asking questions.

“Anything that is deemed valuable is held for possible heirs. But not here.”

Not even being subtle about telling him there wasn’t anything there to steal.

“I didn’t realize Intuits were living in this town,” Parlan said, sounding casual but meaning it as a threat. Intuits who lived in a human town could often be very accommodating in exchange for someone keeping their secret. But there was no reaction from the jeweler. No wariness. That meant the Intuits weren’t hiding that extra sense that had been the reason for generations of persecution. Damn it!

“This is a mixed community,” the jeweler replied. “Plenty of Intuits have settled here.”

Not what he wanted to hear. He’d always avoided Intuit communities because they were bad for business. But … “Have you ever heard of an Intuit who could match a stone to a person? Not just that a garnet, for example, would be a good stone for a person but picking the one garnet out of a pile of stones that resonated with the person in exactly the right way? A person like that might have a strong reaction to stones that were supposedly dissonant with whoever handled them.”

“I’ve never heard of a jeweler who could make that precise a match between stone and customer. Must be a rare ability—if it isn’t just a brag to boost business.”

Because of his own ability, Parlan knew when someone was bluffing—or lying—and the jeweler