Читать книгу The Hollows Series Books 1-4 - Kim Harrison, Ким Харрисон - Страница 49

My gaze was drawn to Sara Jane’s nails as she fidgeted across from me. Last time I had seen her, they were clean but worn down to the quick. Now they were long and shapely, polished a tasteful shade of red. “So,” I said, looking from the fitfully flashing enamel to her eyes. They were blue. I hadn’t known for sure. “You last heard from Dan on Saturday?”

From across the table, Sara Jane nodded. There hadn’t been a flicker of recognition when Edden introduced us. Part of me was relieved, part disappointed. Her lilac scent pulled the unwelcome memory of helplessness I had felt while a mink caged in Trent’s office.

The tissue in Sara Jane’s hand was about the size of a walnut, clenched into a ball with her trembling fingers. “Dan called me as he was coming off of work,” she said, the tremor reflected in her voice. She glanced at Edden, standing beside the closed door with his arms crossed and his white sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Well, he left a message on my machine—it was four in the morning. He said he wanted to have dinner together, that he wanted to talk to me. He never showed up. That’s why I know something’s wrong, Officer Morgan.” Her eyes went wide and her jaw clenched as she struggled not to cry.

“It’s Ms. Morgan,” I said uncomfortably. “I don’t work for the FIB on a regular basis.”

Jenks’s wings shifted into motion as he remained perched on my foam cup. “She doesn’t really work regularly at all,” he said snidely.

“Ms. Morgan is our Inderland consultant,” Edden said, frowning at Jenks.

Sara Jane dabbed at her eyes. The tissue still in her grip, she nudged her hair back. She had cut it, and it made her look even more professional as it bumped about her shoulders in a straight yellow sheet. “I brought a picture of him,” she said, digging in her purse to pull out a snapshot and push it at me. I looked down to see her and a young man on the deck of one of the steamers that take tourists out on the Ohio River. They were both smiling. His arm was around her, and she was leaning into him. She looked happy and relaxed in blue jeans and a blouse.

I took a moment to study Dan’s picture. He was clean-cut, sturdy looking, and wearing a plaid shirt. Just the kind of man one would expect a farm girl to bring home to Mom and Dad.

“Can I keep this?” I asked, and she nodded. “Thanks.” I tucked it in my bag, not comfortable with how her eyes were fixed upon the picture as if she could bring him back by her will alone. “Do you know how we can get in touch with his relatives? He may have had a family emergency and needed to leave without notice.”

“Dan is an only child,” she said, dabbing at her nose with the crumpled tissue. “Both his parents are gone. They were serfed on a farm up north. Life expectancy isn’t high for a farmer.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. “Technically, we can’t enter his apartment until he’s declared missing. You don’t happen to have a key, do you?”

“Yes. I—” She blushed through her makeup. “I let his cat in when he works late.”

I glanced down at the lie-detecting amulet in my lap as it briefly shifted from green to red. She was lying, but I didn’t need an amulet to figure that out. I said nothing, not wanting to embarrass her further by making her admit she had the key for other, more romantic reasons.

“I was there today about seven,” she said, eyes downcast. “Everything looked fine.”

“Seven in the morning?” Edden uncrossed his arms and levered himself upright. “Isn’t that when you—you witches, I mean—are tucked in bed?”

She gazed up at him and nodded. “I’m Mr. Kalamack’s personal secretary. He works in the mornings and evenings, so my schedule is split. Eight to noon in the morning and four to eight in the afternoon. It took a while to become accustomed to it, but with four hours for myself in the afternoon, I was able to spend more time with … Dan,” she finished.

“Please,” the young woman pleaded suddenly, her gaze shifting between Edden and me. “I know something’s wrong. Why won’t anyone help me?”

I shifted uncomfortably as she struggled for control. She felt helpless. I understood her better than she knew. Sara Jane was the latest in Trent’s long string of secretaries. As a mink I had listened in on her interview, unable to warn her as she was lured into believing Trent’s half-truths. For all her intelligence, she hadn’t a chance to escape his charm and extravagant offers. With his offer of employment, Trent had given her family a golden ticket out of their indentured servitude.

And Trent Kalamack was truly a benevolent employer, offering high wages and outstanding benefits. He gave people what they desperately wanted, asking in return nothing but their loyalty. By the time they realized how deep he demanded that loyalty go, they knew too much to extricate themselves.

Sara Jane had escaped the farm, but Trent had then bought it, probably to ensure that she would keep her mouth shut when she found out about his dealings in the illegal drug Brimstone, as well as the desperately sought-after genetic medicines outlawed during the Turn. I’d almost tagged him with the truth, but the sole other witness had died in a car explosion.

Publicly, Trent served on the city’s council, untouchable because of his vast wealth and generous donations to charities and underprivileged children. Privately, no one even knew if he was a human or Inderlander. Even Jenks couldn’t tell, which was unusual for a pixy. Trent quietly ran a good slice of Cincinnati’s underworld, and both the FIB and the I.S. would sell their bosses to have a court date with him. And now Sara Jane’s boyfriend was missing.

I cleared my throat, recalling the temptation of Trent’s offer myself. Seeing Sara Jane under control again, I asked, “You said he works at Pizza Piscary’s?”

She nodded. “He’s a driver. That’s how we met.” She bit her lip and dropped her eyes.

The lie-detecting amulet was a steady green. Piscary’s was an Inderland eatery serving everything from tomato soup to gourmet cheesecake. Piscary himself was said to be one of Cincinnati’s master vampires. Nice enough, from what I’d heard: not greedy with his vamp takes, even-tempered, on record as being dead for the last three hundred years. ’Course, he was probably older than that, and the nicer and more civilized an undead vampire seemed, the more depraved he or she generally was. My roommate thought of him as sort of a friendly uncle, which made me feel oh-so-warm and fuzzy inside.

I handed Sara Jane another tissue, and she smiled weakly. “I can go out to his apartment today,” I said. “Do you think you could meet me there with the key? Sometimes a professional can spot things others miss.” Jenks snorted, and I shifted my legs, bumping the underside of the table to make him dart into the air.

Sara Jane showed relief. “Oh, thank you, Ms. Morgan,” she gushed. “I can go right now. I just have to call my employer and let him know I’ll be a little late.” She gripped her purse, looking like she was ready to fly out of the room. “Mr. Kalamack told me to take all the time I need this afternoon.”

I glanced at Jenks’s attention-getting buzz. He had a worried I-told-you-so look. How nice of Trent to let his secretary take all the time she needs to find her boyfriend when he’s probably stuffed in a closet so she’ll keep her mouth shut. “Ah, let’s make it tonight,” I said, thinking of my fish. “I need to look up a few things.” And whip up a few antigoon spells, check my splat gun, and collect my fee …

“Of course,” she said, settling back as her expression clouded.

“And if nothing turns up there, we’ll go on to the next step.” I tried to make my smile reassuring. “I’ll meet you at Dan’s apartment a little after eight?”

Hearing the dismissal in my voice, she nodded and stood. Jenks flitted into the air, and I rose as well. “All right,” she said. “It’s out at Redwood—”

Edden shuffled his feet. “I’ll tell Ms. Morgan where it is, Ms. Gradenko.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Her smile was starting to look stilted. “I’m just so worried ….”

I disguised putting my lie-detecting amulet away by digging through my bag and pulling out one of my cards. “Please let me or the FIB know if you hear from him in the meantime,” I said as I handed it to her. Ivy had the cards professionally printed, and they looked slick.

“Yes. I will,” she murmured, her lips moving as she read VAMPIRIC CHARMS, the name Nick had given my and Ivy’s agency. She met my eyes as she tucked the card in her purse. I shook her hand, deciding her grip was firmer this time. Her fingers, though, were still cold.

“I’ll show you out, Ms. Gradenko,” Edden said as he opened the door. At his subtle gesture, I sank back into my chair to wait.