Before she could pursue it further, my phone rang. I just about broke my neck in my hurry to get it out of my pocket. I was absolutely desperate to avoid the inevitable grilling Emma was about to give me. “Hello?”
Rizzoli answered me with, “About freaking time, Graves.”
“Sorry. Life’s been crazy. What’s up?”
“You owe me two hundred bucks,” he growled.
“Huh?” Okay, not the most intelligent response, but he had me at a disadvantage. I had no clue why I would owe him any money.
“I figured that with everything going on you might not be able to go back to the diner to get the SUV for a couple of days, so I paid the owner of the truck stop next door to park it in an empty bay. That way it won’t get stolen before you can pick it up. But it’s only paid through Tuesday, so don’t dawdle.”
“Thanks, Rizzoli, I really appreciate it. I’ll be sure to pick it up before then. And I’ll give you the money next time I see you.” I paused. “So, what happened at the Needle after I left?”
“A lot of paperwork. A lot of interviews. There’ll be inspections and all sorts of crap going on for God alone knows how long. Zorn is having conniptions. So is the warden. You were lucky to miss it. They’re trying to keep a lid on how bad the situation actually is, so the press is being given limited information. If any reporters contact you, don’t tell them anything. We don’t want to start a panic.”
I agreed with that. Just so long as they fixed the problem. “And Connor Finn?”
“They’ve got him under special guard.”
Maybe that was good enough. I hoped so. But I wouldn’t bet the bank on it—in part because I suspected that someone high up in the prison hierarchy was helping Finn and that at least one spawn had been added to the staff while the barriers were down. So the “Connor Finn” in the Needle could be a spawn and the real man could be free to do whatever he wanted. I thought that the Connor Finn I spoke to was the real deal, but I couldn’t be sure.
Just the thought of it chilled me to the bone.
Dom was talking, and I got the impression I’d missed something. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”
“I said, I’ve still got your jacket and weapons. How do you want me to get them to you?”
“Where are you?”
“Right now? I’m at the L.A. office. I probably won’t be back in Santa Maria until sometime Wednesday.”
“Any chance you could drop my stuff by the hospital and leave it with Isaac? I’ll probably go see him again tomorrow.”
“Fine. I need to ask him a couple of questions anyway.”
“Thanks, Rizzoli. I owe you one.”
“You owe me several,” he said, without malice.
I hung up. Emma was waiting, her expression very serious, her eyes dark and fathomless. For a second I couldn’t remember what we’d been talking about before Dom’s call. Then she spoke.
“You know what Matty and Bruno are doing tomorrow, don’t you?”
“Em…” I started.
“The four of them made me swear not to tell, but you already know,” she said accusingly.
There was no point in denying it, so I just nodded. “I don’t have a lot of specifics. But Isaac gave me an overview of what’s probably going to happen. And I think I may have a way to keep everybody alive.”
Her jaw dropped in shock and she very nearly dropped her wineglass, recovering after a bit of wine spilled onto her leg. She looked at me and I swear I could see the hope rise in her. “You do? How?”
“By keeping Michelle alive. She’s the key. If he can’t kill her, Finn’s magic will backlash on him. If he dies, none of our guys have to.”
“And how do you plan on keeping her alive? The top mages in the world haven’t figured out a way to stop a bloodline curse.” I could tell she didn’t quite believe that what I was suggesting was possible.
I smiled, but it wasn’t a happy expression. “Don’t be too sure about that. Finn is related to the Garzas, but he survived the first curse he cast against those with Garza blood.”
“How?”
I told her my theory and how I planned to save Michelle. “I had to go through Chris and hire the Company to do it, but it’ll be worth the cost.”
“The Company.” There was bitterness in Emma’s voice when she said the name. Kevin had been affiliated with them for a number of years. She knew more about the Company than was probably good for her.
“They’re the only ones I know with the resources who’d be willing to take this kind of risk.”
“For a price.”
“Always,” I admitted.
As if on cue, my cell rang again. “Hello?”
“Graves, where are you?” Chris sounded pissy.
“At home, why?”
“There’s a private airstrip outside of town.”
“I know it.” I’d been there a few times, since John Creede kept Miller & Creede’s corporate plane there. It wasn’t a big place, but it was secure and well maintained, and the runway was just long enough for a small jet.
“Can you get there in a half hour?”
“Why?”
“We need to get the equipment out to wherever you’ve got my patient stashed, and I need to do some basic tests—typing, screening, the usual.
“Didn’t Dawna get you the hospital records? I know Michelle signed a release.”
“Do you have any idea how long it takes the average medical records department to process paperwork to outside providers? Trust me. This is faster. And this way I know it’s accurate. So I need to see the patient. Sooner is better if you want me to be able to get matching blood in time for tomorrow’s full moon.”
Made sense to me. “It’s quite a drive—” I began, but he interrupted me.
“We’re not driving. Hence the airstrip.” He hung up on me. Again. That particular bad habit of his was getting very old, very quickly.
28
Emma insisted on driving me. I didn’t argue. I went into the house just long enough to arm up, use the bathroom, and finger-fluff my hair, then followed her to her car.
It was a quiet ride to the airstrip, but not uncomfortable. Both Emma and I had a lot to think about. Waiting on the tarmac was a military-style helicopter. I had no idea what kind it was; all I knew was that it was big, green, and aggressive looking, with two engines, four rotors, and a fairly large cargo bay.
I jumped out the second Emma’s subcompact came to a full stop, then leaned back in just long enough to say thanks and grab my purse before slamming the door and hurrying away.
Chris was waiting inside the open cargo door of the helicopter, looking impatiently at his watch. “What took you so long?”
“Traffic.”
He grunted with displeasure. “I have other things I want to do yet tonight, Graves. We need to get moving. What’s our destination?”
“Edwards Lake.”
“Did you hear that, Rob?” Chris called over his shoulder to the pilot.
“Got it. Do you have an address, or do you just plan to direct me when we get there?”
I told him the address. Then I clambered on board and took one of a pair of empty seats, strapping on my shoulder harness.
The bay was large but crowded with cartons and wooden crates. A lot of the boxes were labeled, so I could see that they contained medical equipment. I supposed the crates were probably for Chris’s other client. I didn’t need or want to know what might be in them.
My inspection of my ride was interrupted by an unexpected arrival at the cargo door.
“Emma, what are you doing here?” Chris was shouting to be heard over the sound of the engines and the whup, whup of the rotors.
“I’m coming.” She pushed past him and climbed on board.