I tried to go back to sleep, but the phone rang again at eight-thirty. I was prepared to give the reporter the kind of comments that might get me arrested, but when I checked the caller ID I saw that it was Brian.
I seriously considered letting my answering machine take the call. Not because I didn’t want to talk to Brian, but because I didn’t want to talk to him about the Maguire situation. I figured there must be something in the newspaper about it, and Brian would want to gallantly support me in my time of trouble. I wasn’t up to dealing with him in knight-in-shining-armor mode. Yes, I’m really bitchy in the morning before I’ve had my coffee.
Virtue won out over expedience, and I actually picked up the phone.
“If you mention Jordan Maguire, you’re not getting laid again for at least three months,” I said.
Brian chuckled. “Guess you haven’t had your coffee yet.”
Why does everyone have to find me so goddamn amusing? “I was sound asleep, so no.” So I hadn’t been sound asleep for at least a half hour. What was a little exaggeration among friends?
“Sorry to wake you,” Brian said. “But I don’t think this can wait. I’m coming over. I’ll be there in about half an hour.”
“Huh?” I glanced at the clock again. “What’s going on? Don’t you have to be at work?” Actually, if he’d been following his usual routine, he’d have been at work a half hour ago. Suddenly, I was feeling much more awake, and that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
“It’s not something I can explain on the phone,” he said. “Get some coffee in your system, and I’ll see you soon.”
To my surprise, he hung up. It wasn’t like Brian to be cryptic.
Giving up my illusion that I might be able to get some more sleep, I rubbed the grit from my eyes and got out of bed. I started a pot of coffee, and by the time I emerged from a quick shower, the heavenly brew was ready for me. I burned my tongue on the first swallow, but it was worth it.
I was still in my bathrobe when Brian arrived. A girl has to have priorities, and coffee came before clothes for me any day of the week.
I hadn’t expected this to be a social call, of course, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t unnerved by the grim look on Brian’s face. And that was before he got a look at my bruised and battered face.
“What happened?” he asked, sounding appalled. “ It’s not that big a deal,” I answered, hoping I could somehow miraculously avoid a big, dramatic scene. “A couple of Tommy Brewster’s pals thought I should lay off him, and I didn’t agree. But really, I’m fine. And yes, I reported it.”
He stared at me in silence for a moment before he spoke again. As I’m sure he intended, the silence made me squirm, but I refrained from blurting out anything I shouldn’t have.
“This is the case you insisted wasn’t dangerous, right?” he asked. “The one you told me you’d handed off to Adam.”
“If you’re going to scold me, then you might as well turn around and get your ass out of here before things get ugly. I’m just not in the mood for it.”
His shoulders lowered, and he looked slightly less like he was about to explode. “Old habits die hard. But I really can’t leave right now.”
I remembered how grim he’d looked even before he got a good look at me and knew this couldn’t be good. I served him a cup of coffee just to put off hearing what had put that look on his face. But I couldn’t put it off for long.
“Okay,” I said with a resigned sigh. “Tell me what’s going wrong now.” I cupped my hands around my second cup of coffee and tried to brace myself for whatever bad thing was about to rear its ugly head.
Brian put his coffee down and leaned his butt against the kitchen counter. I think he was trying to look calm and normal, but he wasn’t pulling it off very effectively.
“When I came down to the front desk to get my paper this morning,” he said, “there was a message in my mailbox. The night man said it was delivered by a young woman, but he had no idea who she was or where she’d gone.”
This didn’t sound good at all. “What was the message?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, instead reaching into his jacket and pulling a plain white envelope from the inner pocket. He handed the envelope to me, and I saw my name typewritten on the front. The envelope was still sealed.
I closed my eyes for a moment as I fought a wave of self-pity. Wasn’t there enough shit going on in my life already? Did I really need mysterious letters delivered through Brian?
“If someone wanted to give this to me,” I mused, “then why did they leave it at your building?”
“Beats me,” Brian answered, looking worried.
I stared at the envelope, trying to guess what might be inside. I guess I stared a little too long, because Brian prompted me.
“Well? Are you going to open it?”
“Back off,” I snapped, then wanted to slap myself silly for killing the messenger. “Sorry. I just can’t imagine there’s anything good in here, and I’m not in a big hurry to add to my problems.”
Brian smiled faintly. “Lawyers get to be the bearers of bad tidings on a regular basis. I’m used to being underappreciated.”
“Ha, ha,” I said, though I’m not sure that was supposed to be a joke. “Can you give me a minute?” I didn’t want him looking over my shoulder while I read, just in case. . Well, just in case.
He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve done my messenger duty, and now I’m dismissed?”
I fought the urge to snap at him again. “I’m not dismissing you. I just want a quiet moment to open this and read it. Is that too much to ask?”
He gave me a reproachful look, but he pushed away from the counter and stomped out of the kitchen. Even after he’d gone, I still had trouble forcing myself to open the envelope, but there was only so long even I could procrastinate.
Trying to steel myself for all possibilities, I slid a finger under the flap and ripped the envelope open.
Inside, there was a photograph, along with a neatly handwritten letter. The photo was the one Claudia had showed me at the restaurant, the one of her adopted daughters.
The letter was from Claudia.
Ms. Kingsley,
They have my daughters. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to tell you the truth about why I wanted you to drop the case, but I was told in unequivocal terms that I am to act as though nothing were wrong. Still, while I don’t know you very well, I imagine you’re the kind of person who would be unwilling to drop the case just on my say-so, so I felt I had to take the risk of contacting you.
They are watching my every move, and most likely yours, too. I can’t contact you personally, but I will try to get this letter to you in a roundabout fashion that will avoid detection. I just hope it doesn’t reach you too late.
I love my son, more than I can say. I desperately wish there were something I could do to save him. But I can’t risk my daughters. They are helpless children, and I can’t bear to do anything to endanger them. The kidnappers have pointed out that with two hostages, they can afford to kill one as a message if anyone “misbehaves,” as they put it. Please, Ms. Kingsley. Drop the case. Don’t ask any more questions. These are very bad people, and I believe they won’t hesitate to hurt the girls. Don’t give them an excuse.
Claudia
My heart dangled somewhere around my knees. Just what I needed. A hostage crisis. And after I’d spent last night questioning Shae about Tommy. Please, God, don’t let the bad guys retaliate against those children!
My throat knotted up, and I swallowed to try to loosen it. There was nothing I could do to change the past, and if Tommy’s friends had found out what I’d been up to last night, then at least one of those children might already be doomed. Tears stung my eyes, and I cursed Tommy Brewster and all his demon friends. While I was at it, I cursed Raphael for having enabled the whole breeding program and for whatever information he might be withholding at the moment.