“All resources have been ordered onto this.”
“By his order or head office?”
“His. We still haven’t received comms from HQ yet.”
Neither had I, but I dared say I soon would once Garrett, our chief of operations, had been apprised of the situation. And Michael would certainly call me, if only to say, “What the fuck?”
In a concerned brotherly manner, of course.
“I’m done searching Monica’s room, Jack, so unless Lowell has left more orders, I’m clocking off and going to bed.”
“You want me to clock you off, save you coming in?”
I hesitated. “Is there anyone currently in the evidence collection area capable of shielding a magical shard to stop it disintegrating?”
“Not right now, but I daresay they can be ordered back in. They don’t live close, though. Why?”
“Because I’ve evidence currently being shielded by my magic, and a witch fully trained in evidence transferring is probably our best bet for doing a safe magical changeover.”
Even then, there was no guarantee of success. My inner darkness sometimes bled through my magic, which often made it difficult for other witches to run their spells through mine. It was the main reason I tended to avoid blending spells with anyone. Too many secrets might be revealed.
But if I released the shard without another witch first weaving their own protective spells through mine, it would likely disintegrate.
“Ask a stupid question,” he said, then added, “I can contact Lowell and ask what he wants you to do.”
“Is he there now or still home?”
“The latter.”
“Then please do ring him.”
Jack snorted, and the line briefly went dead. “Lowell said if your magic is keeping the evidence viable, it’s probably safer for you to keep hold of it. That way, you can ensure the spell is maintained until evidence is open in the morning. He also said there’s a small security safe situated at the back of the master’s ensuite you can use to store it in the meantime. I just sent you the code.”
My phone obediently beeped in receipt. Of course, holding on to evidence like this wasn’t exactly approved procedure, but this was one time I wasn’t about to argue the order. Not if it meant me getting to bed just that little bit sooner.
“Thanks, Jack. Talk again in a few hours.”
“Hopefully not. I’ve a game I’ve got to get back to.”
“What about sleep?”
“It’s only you older folks who need sleep.”
“If I were closer, I’d clip you over the ear for cheek like that.”
“Which is why I said it when you’re far away.”
I laughed, broke the connection, and then let the two women know I was leaving.
“Good,” came the gruff reply.
I laughed again and headed out of the apartment. When I walked out of the lift on the ground floor, I spotted the manager standing behind the desk. I walked over and said, “Can I get access to the security tapes? I just need a quick look at the two men who came in with Francesca and Marnee.”
The older man hesitated. “A copy has already been requested by your division. They’ll be here in an hour or so?—”
I gave him my most engaging smile. “Perfect—it means you’ve time to show me the originals before they get here.”
He sniffed, obviously unconvinced by the smile, but nevertheless motioned me to follow and led me into the office behind the counter. He got onto the computer and, after a few quick keystrokes, brought up the security files and fast forwarded for a few minutes. Francesca appeared on the screen with Marnee and the two men flanking her. Once she’d scanned her keycard, the four entered and made their way toward the lift. The two men were nigh on identical—tall and well built, with pale skin and eyes. No tattoos, no chunky knuckles.
