On the other end of the phone, something opened and closed, a refrigerator by the sound of it. “You do know your voice is bordering onconcerned?”
Alex was starting to sound more awake. Jamey cleared her throat. “Hazard of being a big sister.”
“I see where Reece learned to deflect with sarcasm.” He was pouring a glass of something, but underneath the sound of a filling cup was something else. She strained her ears to catch it: a sharp and echoingcaw, more than one at once, repeating over and over. “While I have you, any chance you’re in touch with Gretel Macy?”
Jamey glanced at the closed bedroom door. “Why would that be any of your business?”
“Someone out there is framing us for the murder of her parents. Considering what happened tomyparents, I’m taking it a bit personal.”
That was interesting. Jamey had seen the picture of Alex and Gretel at a hotel restaurant a few weeks ago. Alex had thralled Officer Stensby and that former army major turned airsoft course manager that night, but he’d let Gretel go unharmed. “We could all be working together to solve the murders, you know,” Jamey pointed out.
“Which would be mighty fine, right up until you and Evan lock us away with a freak like Dr. Nichols again.”
“We don’t want—”
“My apologies for hanging up on you, ma’am, but I’m sure you understand my need for discretion.”
“Alex—”
He’d already cut the line.
She palmed the phone for a moment. Hardwood floors, a fridge, gulls. Far from conclusive, but maybe they were in a residential house near the water? She filed that thought away to examine more closely later. For the moment, she needed to find ten missing empaths.
She stepped out from the bedroom. On the couch, Gretel’s eyes were open. She seemed to be staring out the window, watching the snow.
“I made coffee,” Jamey offered.
Gretel’s gaze turned her way, eyes deeply bloodshot with purplish circles underneath. “That sounds great,” she said, hoarse and quiet.
“Cream and sugar?”
Gretel nodded. Jamey ducked into the kitchen, pouring coffee into two mugs. Taking Gretel Macy to search for missing empaths would be a disaster of epic proportions. Except Jamey also knew what it was like to lose parents, and simply could not leave her by herself.
She stepped back into the living room, handing Gretel one of the mugs over the back of the couch. “I have to make a trip to Bellingham. You up for it?”
But Gretel shook her head. “I wish I could,” she said, sounding honest, as she took the mug. “But I have to go see our lawyer today.” She swallowed. “Only my lawyer now, I guess.”
Jamey bit her lip, then said, “Will you come back afterwards?”
Gretel looked up. “Here?”
“Where there’s murder, there are often other crimes,” Jamey said. “I don’t know yet if that’s true for Charles Stone, but I’m certain that if he has any idea you suspect him, you’re going to be in danger too. I said I’ll help you, and I meant that. I can give you the spare key.”
Gretel swallowed again. “Okay,” she said with a watery sort of smile. “I’ll come back. Thanks, Jamey.”
Reece frowned as he followed Traynor’s Tahoe around the bend of I-5, heading through Tacoma with no signs of slowing. “Where the fuck is this bank?” he said out loud.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Name: Dominique Lane (Diesel)
Source of referral: U.S. Marine Corps
Presenting concerns: Depression; grief; hypervigilance; sleep disturbances
Assessment: Patient was exposed to significant trauma overseas and is struggling to adjust to civilian life.
Note: Do not reassign. I’ll try to help him, whatever he needs.
