Baker’s voice was now embarrassed. “We started with you, Princess.”
I waved my hand in horrified resignation. “Please, don’t call me Princess anymore. I’m just Celia. Part of the problem today is the royalty thing. Let’s just pretend I’m not. Okay? Can I order you not to call me Princess anymore?” My eyes were shut and I realized I was beating my head backward against the pale blue padded headrest.
“Of course, Pr … I mean, Celia. You have that power.”
Fuck a duck. That’s not what I meant. “I don’t want any power. Let’s just go find my mother and get her back where she belongs. I’d rather not involve the mainland police if we can avoid it.” I hated to admit that I was worried about her. She might not be in her right mind after not only being separated from the ocean but also going through alcohol withdrawal. I hoped she wouldn’t do anything drastic or hurt anyone. She’s not a violent person. But desperate people can do weird stuff. The siren guards were more likely to handle her gently. The local cops have encountered her before. She’d be locked up in a heartbeat and there wouldn’t be any more chances. No more island paradises. Just cold, stone walls.
And she’d die.
I wasn’t sure if I could live with that, even though she makes me angry enough to scream every time I talk to her.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and I tensed. It was gentle and I knew she meant well, but I couldn’t help my reaction. Not today. Gwen’s voice was warm and concerned. “Celia? Are you okay? Do you need to talk?”
The laugh that bubbled up and out had a hysterical edge. “Okay? Hmm, let’s see. I got everything off my chest just in time to have an anvil fall on my head. No, Gwen. I’m not okay. I’ll live, but this is very not cool. And no, talking more isn’t going to help.” I wasn’t going so far as to say it was a breach of trust. She hadn’t actually told them anything or let them listen in. She just asked a few questions and used her instincts to see if I was telling the truth. I wasn’t as angry as I was tired and frustrated. It was another thing, another straw on my back, and I could only pray it wouldn’t break me.
The problem was that the most likely person Mom would visit was Gran and Gran absolutely would help her hide from the police. I slapped a palm down on the armrest. “Y’know what? Let’s just go find her. Mom is a creature of habit. She’s only been gone two days. One of them was spent traveling. I know every one of her hangouts. She wouldn’t go anywhere new.” I stood up and showed my therapist my told ya so look. “Sorry, Gwen. Gotta go. One more thing I’ve got to get involved in that I don’t want to.”
“Pr … Celia. We can handle this. We are trained investigators and more than qualified to recapture a prisoner.” Baker sounded confident, and yes, she might have reason to be. Let’s find out.
“Maybe so. But tell me something, Baker. What was your first impression of my mother?” Those hazel eyes met mine for a long moment. “And don’t feel compelled to spare my feelings.”
She nodded once, short and solid. “I considered her passive-aggressive, manipulative, depressed, and angry. A classic addictive personality. Frankly, I believed she was probably a flight risk. But … I am not the one who decides such things.”
That pretty much described Lana Graves. “Good. If we can get her back, and I can get the queen to approve it, do you feel confident you could handle her security from now on?”
“I can make sure she completes her stay with us and doesn’t injure herself. As for whether she can be treated—” She shrugged. “That depends entirely on whether she wants to heal.”
I understood that. “Then it’s time to start making some calls.”
I wanted a little privacy, so I borrowed one of the conference rooms down the hall from Gwen’s office. My call to Gran wasn’t warm or fuzzy. She’d definitely seen Mom but wasn’t talking. Sure, I could have sent Baker and Natura to question her, but to what end? Her silence when I asked specific questions told me everything I needed to know. Yes, Mom had stopped by Gran’s assisted-living facility. She’d borrowed money and left.
“Okay,” I said after writing down a dozen addresses from the phone directory. “Here’s a list of the bars Mom used to hang out at. Some probably aren’t open during the day, but I couldn’t tell you which. How do you want to do this?”
Baker assessed me with that penetrating look that cops have—deciding whether I could be trusted. I stared back without flinching. I was fully on their side. I wanted Mom back on the island. If they could get her clean in that time, all the better. Finally, Baker took the piece of notebook paper from my hand and tore the list into thirds. She handed one piece to Natura and the third to me. “We’ll split up and trade phone numbers. Whoever first finds the prisoner calls the others. Do not approach her until I arrive. We have procedures and I intend to make sure they’re followed. Otherwise, we’ll lose custody and she’ll have to go back to prison on the mainland.”
I sighed. I really didn’t have the time or the energy for this. I was still worried about John. But he’s a big boy, fully capable of taking care of himself. Maybe it’s just like his sister thought and he was heavily infatuated with another woman and sleeping off a great date.
Did I just think another woman? And did it sting when I thought it? That implied things I didn’t want to consider. Crap.
So yeah, maybe thinking about Mom was a better bet. At least it was a problem that was easily solved. It also kept me away from the house where everybody was likely to find me.
Baker and Natura followed me to the parking lot. I found Rizzoli standing next to my car. Okay, this was the second time he was just too close to where I was to be coincidence. “Are you following me, Rizzoli? Can’t I even go to my shrink without being hounded?”
He didn’t smile. In fact, the look on his face made Baker and Natura tense. Of course, that made my muscles go rigid. “No, I wasn’t following you. I was following the person who was following you. Did you even notice you had a tail coming over here? I expect better from you.”
I thought back. Crap, that was just inexcusable. I should’ve noticed, unless they were very good. But I’d been too busy thinking about what to say to Gwen—how to even begin to explain where my head was at lately. I let out a small growl of annoyance. “No. That was stupid of me.”
“Yeah. It was.” He pulled out the device I’d seen earlier, the one with the blinking lights that checked for bad things. He pointed it at my car. Like before, a chirp sounded and then another and a third. But the fourth one … the one that should happen right before the remote turned green? It didn’t chirp. The remote turned red. “Someone wired your car.”
That widened my eyes. “Wired it to do what? Explode?”
He shrugged. “I just got here, so I’m not sure. I followed the other car until I lost them on the interstate and then came back. I got a plate number, but it was reported stolen.” He shrugged once more. “Not that that means it actually was stolen. That happens, too. We’ll check it out.”