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But if Portia Kane had taken the photo for the Cabal, why not just send it to them right away? Why mail it to Robyn Peltier?
As he calmed down, he was ashamed of himself for panicking. That couple weren't supernaturals. So he'd seen a man jump from an eight-foot wall. Big deal. Stuntmen did it all the time. This was L.A.
He was making up elaborate stories to excuse the simple truth that he'd screwed up. How he would have loved to return to Adele, say he'd followed a suspicious couple and found Robyn Peltier. He imagined how she'd react to that, the look in her eyes, the taste of her kiss, her voice murmuring in his ear, "How can I ever repay you?"
He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the fantasy back. He'd still find Robyn Peltier for Adele. He wouldn't mention the couple to her. No need to expose his cowardice. She'd sent him to retrieve a personal item from the apartment and he would, then he'd use it to find Peltier. His powers might be immature, but surely he could boost them for a reward he wanted badly enough.
Since puberty the elders had been preparing him for his eventual role, teaching him all the skills he'd need as a contributing member of the kumpania. Lock picking had come early. When you first got an assignment, you'd need to steal personal items to make a connection. After that, getting a valuable celebrity shot sometimes meant being someplace you weren't supposed to be. Being able to open locked doors and disarm alarms came in very handy.
As he approached the door, he slid the pick into his hand, then set to work.
There was something not quite right with the locking mechanism. As his frustration mounted, he forgot the second part of any breakin job: keeping a constant watch on his surroundings. He didn't hear the whoosh of the elevator doors until they were closing.
"Can I help you, son?"
A uniformed officer started toward him, shoulders squaring. Colm closed his fingers over the pick and pushed it up his sleeve.
"I was looking for Miss Peltier. She bought some chocolate almonds from me for band."
The officer stopped in front of him. "Band?"
"A band trip. I go to LACHSA." When the officer looked confused, he said, "Los Angeles County High School of the Arts." A school he could claim, no matter what part of the city he was in. "I was going to tell her the almonds will be late."
"You live in the building?"
Colm nodded. "With my mom. Number 304."
The lies came effortlessly. More lessons taught from birth. No matter how innocent the question, lie.
The officer seemed to consider taking him down to 304 and Colm was mentally preparing his excuse and escape plan, but after a moment, the officer asked, "When's the last time you saw Ms. Peltier?"
"Last Tues - no, Wednesday. I was waiting out front for my cab to school."
The officer reached into his pocket and handed Colm a card. "If you see her again, give me a call."
"Is something wrong?"
"We just need to talk to her."
Colm read the card slowly, hoping the officer would walk away. But he just stood there, waiting for Colm to leave. After a moment, he did.
Once again, Colm stood in the first-floor stairwell. He'd tried to remotely watch the officer, so he could sneak back up, but he was so nervous he couldn't concentrate. Even clutching the officer's card didn't help.
There was no way he was getting into that apartment now. He couldn't talk his way out of being caught up there a second time.
He wished he could call Adele, but she'd been summoned into a conference with the phuri. With Portia Kane dead, they'd waste no time assigning her a new subject. They always had several on backup. Everyone needed to pull his weight.
In the meantime, he'd come up with a version of events that put him in a better light. No mysterious couple. Certainly no walking into their trap. And there'd been two - no, maybe four - cops searching the apartment. He'd waited for hours, but they hadn't left. Adele couldn't blame him for that... he hoped.
* * *
HOPE
Hope called Robyn from the car. Robyn sounded as if she'd been sleeping, groggy, confused. Hope said they had her laptop and some clothes and were going to pick up food before coming back. They'd be there in an hour or so.
Then, with the danger past, Karl wanted to hear details of her plans for a cabin getaway. Hope was happy to oblige... in every way.
Afterward, still parked where they'd stopped, she took out the laptop. She didn't like snooping through Robyn's files, but if Portia's killer was the supernatural Hope had sensed in the club, she'd better get a look at this picture before Robyn did.
