“With verbal confirmation from me of the variation,” she added, with a nod. “Do you mind if I touch your hands?”
While not all readers needed physical contact to do their thing, most of them seemed to prefer it. Apparently it made the connection stronger for them. I upped the shielding around that darker part of me—though in truth it wasn’t necessary in rooms as well protected as these things tended to be, but better safe than sorry—then held out my hands and said, “Go for it.”
Her palms rested on my hands, and the faint buzz of energy surrounded me. “Please proceed with your report.”
I did so, starting from the moment Monica and her friends had walked into the rave venue and finishing with the discovery of the absent bridesmaids and the two leads Jack was still chasing down. As I spoke, it played out as a movie to the side of us; it was almost as if someone was manning a projection camera behind my eyes.
By the time I was done, my head ached like a bitch, and all I wanted to do was go home and sleep for the next ten hours. Given tonight’s events, and the fact I still had to chase down the bridesmaids, I’d be lucky to get a quarter of that.
Greta rose and patted my shoulder. “You should go rest.”
“I should. I probably won’t.”
She gave me a lopsided smile and moved over to her partner. Though the two of them didn’t say anything out loud, the buzz of energy surrounding them suggested they were telepathically communicating. I pushed to my feet and slowly walked out the door. Auditing was never an easy process, but for some reason, tonight’s seemed to take a greater toll than usual. Maybe Greta had gone deeper, pressed harder, than usual, and Lowell and his unspoken doubts might have been behind that.
He stepped through the next door down as I came out. “I want the bridesmaids talked to as a matter of urgency.
Which I was going to do anyway, but the authoritative tone he used annoyed the hell out of me, and I had to bite back the reminder that he wasn’t my fucking boss and couldn’t actually order me to do anything.Remember, Hanna, honey not lemon.
“I take it Jack has tracked down the details of the car they climbed into and gotten into contact with the driver?”
“He hasn’t been able to talk to the driver, but we have his home address. If Francesca and Marnee aren’t at their penthouse, you’ll need to drive straight there and interview him.”
“You’ve cleared the overtime with head office then?”
He frowned. “Why would I do that?”
“Because regulation 14-1A states all agents must be given a minimum of five hours break after an extended period of duty time,” I replied, the annoyance not quite as masked as it should be. “Ginny and I have now been operating for over ten hours, which means if you haven’t cleared it with Canberra, all additional costs, including the cost of any injuries to either Ginny, myself, or outside personnel caught up in our operation during those extended hours, will be coming out of your budget.”
He scowled. “This case warrants it, Agent Kang, and be aware that I do not appreciate the rules being read to me in such a condescending manner. I run this sub-office, and youwillremember that.”
And you should remember I am not a first-year graduate but co-lead on this investigation. Which meant, of course, we were jointly responsible for the current fuckup—and maybethatwas the problem. Maybe he was worried about being held to account formyactions.
I took a deeper breath and reached for more honey. At this rate, though, the pot would be bone-dry well before the damn mission was over. “Fine, sir. I’ll head over there now.”
His gaze narrowed slightly, suggesting he knew the politeness covered more biting emotions. “Good,” he snapped. “Keep comms apprised of the situation.”
I resisted the urge to salute and moved quickly past him before I said anything I might regret. The night air went some ways to cooling off my frustration with the man, even if it couldn’t similarly lift the aching tiredness that rode me. As I walked across to my car, the earwig buzzed. I tapped it twice, then said, “Lowell tells me you’ve located the BMW’s owner?”
“Yep, sending you the deets now.”
“Thanks,” I said. “But shouldn’t you have clocked off by now?”
“I’d absolutely love to, but sadly, there’s only two members on the team up here, and we do twelve-hour shifts. You’re stuck with me until six.” His voice was dry. “Not that I mind, because we do get well compensated for the long hours and that, in turn, means I can ably support my gaming habit.”
I laughed. “What do we know about the driver?”
“You can’t read what I just sent?”
“I’m not a big reader. I’d rather summaries.”
“I take it you don’t read many novels, then.”
“I prefer audiobooks. Less effort.”
He chuckled. “The driver has no criminal record, no speeding fines, not even a parking fine. License photo says he’s white, dark hair, mid-fifties.”
I frowned. While the driver and his passenger had been little more than shadows in the security tapes, I’d gotten the distinct impression they’d been younger than fifty. “Can you do a cross-check and see if there’s any known connection between him and either woman?”
