“Why not just ask Tane?”
“Because a telepath has been in his mind and done who knows what to his memories.” The kettle whistled; I turned it off and made myself a coffee... and tried to convince myself that bad coffee was better than no coffee. Or, god forbid, tea. “How’d you go with Mark’s family?”
She grimaced. “They didn’t start off cooperative, but that all changed when I told them what had happened. Interesting fact—Monica was apparently questioning him about the relics his family was holding here in Australia.”
I just about choked on my coffee. “You think she’s working with her kidnappers?”
“At this point, it’s looking that way. But then again, if sheis, why go through that whole kidnapping scenario? Why not just quietly disappear?”
“Perhaps they needed to get Tane up here.” I dropped a couple of teaspoons of sugar into my drink and stirred it. “Besides, does Monica look like the quietly disappearing type to you?”
“No, but she does look the type to cause her father as much grief as possible if she had a beef with him.” She shut down the laptop and placed it beside her. “It would also gel with the USB conversation—they’re using her to get as much information about the family as possible.”
“That USB conversation may or may not be real. It’s not like we know who actually sent it.” I grabbed a green snake and chomped on it. “Besides, if that were true, why go through all the time and trouble of making it seem like she disappeared, only then to kidnap her?”
“Maybe she truly thought she and Luke were running away, but something alarmed her at the last moment, and they resorted to snatching her?”
“It’s more likely it was just another part of the ruse, given they did say on the USB that they needed her alive,” My phone pinged, and I glanced down. “And that would be our ribs and fries. I couldn’t get the shakes or the bubbles delivered, so we’ll have to grab them later.”
“Later is good.” Her cheeks dimpled. “Thanks.”
“A deal is a deal.”
I pushed away from the counter and went down to collect our meal. I’d resisted getting a burger given the late hour and how close it was to dinner, but I did get some loaded fries, and ate those while Ginny all but inhaled her meal.
Her phone rang just as she finished. She licked her fingers then hit the answer button and placed it on speaker.
“Agent Baker speaking.”
“Mark Marlowe has regained consciousness if you wish to interview him,” Betty said.
“The guard remains on him?” I asked.
“Indeed it does.”
“Thanks.” Ginny hung up then glanced at her watch. “I take it, given the late hour, that I’ll be doing the interviewing because you’ll be wanting to get ready for your date?”
I rolled my eyes at her. “Well, he hasn’t actually sent the details yet, so I may well still be here when you get back.”
“If you are, I will be very disappointed.”
So will I.I snagged a final fry and swished it through the gooey cheese. “I’ll ring Michael and arrange for the book to be appropriated. Once we have it, we should have some idea what the hell they’re after.”
“And I shall leave you the car. I need to stretch my wings anyway.” She paused. “You want me to move it out of underground parking first?”
“Please. Leave it one street over—there’s usually plenty of parking there.”
She nodded, pushed to her feet, then gathered her handbag, the keys, and her phone and headed out. There were many a myth surrounding shifters, some of which had them erroneously tearing off their clothes to take their alternate shape and ending up naked afterward. Nothing could be further from the truth. Shifter magic was a powerful force, and it not only hid the physical realities of changing from prying eyes, but ensured the pain that would normally be present during such drastic reshaping of their body was nulled. It also took care of anything the shifter might be wearing, be it clothes or something on their person, like a handbag. To this day, despite numerous studies, no one had been able to explain the physics of it, especially when none of those items ever appeared on their alternate form.
I made the call to my brother, but he wasn’t answering again. I left a message, but as I hung up, my phone pinged, indicating a text.
My pulse rate instantly leapt, but I tried to contain the swirl of excitement as I hit the message button. It was from that unknown number. René.
It didn’t say much, sadly. It simply gave me an address and a time—7 PM. Which was logical, given it wasn’t a date, and I was a fool for hoping there might be anything more.
I finished my coffee, then washed the grease from my hands and headed into the bedroom to pick a dress from the chaos on the floor. It took a number of attempts to find something suitable, as most of the dresses I’d brought up with me leaned toward the business end of the spectrum. The only reason I had any other type up here was because I’d intended spending a couple of extra days after the case was solved, doing nothing more than soaking in the warm winter sunshine before I had to brave the chill of Canberra once again.
In all honesty, the business dresses may have been the logical choice, given thiswasn’ta date, but I just... wanted to impress, I guess. It wasn’t like I’d had much chance of that over the last few years.
