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I caught my breath, shivering. Not only was it getting cold, but his words slapped me like a wet blanket. "No," I said softly. "No. I don't think that. You're right. I'm just . . . things are so weird right now that I don't know what to think. Al our foundations are being shaken."
"I'm stil here for you--as your friend, as a brother . . . as someone who cares. I just can't take a chance on loving you. I could end up hurting you again, worse. And that would be very bad." He pul ed me into his arms, and I leaned against his shoulder.
"Thank you," I mumbled against his shoulder. "I feel so convoluted right now. And there's so much at stake." He held me tight, patting my back, calming me, and final y I eased away from him, staring into his eyes.
Chase gazed back at me. There were sparkles in his eyes that I'd never seen before--magic, a hint of it, crackling back there, waiting to break out. And when it did . . .
"You're right," I said, inhaling a long, slow breath. "You need to concentrate on the changes you're going through. I'm not a weak-wil ed person. I just miss having you around. But Chase, I'm not begging you to come back, and my life won't end because we're no longer dating. I'm a big girl. I can handle change." Giving him a soft smile, I headed down the sidewalk to my Jeep, where Menol y and Vanzir were waiting.
Chase fol owed, catching up to me before I opened the driver's door. "Delilah--you know there's nobody else, right? I'm not looking for any other pussycat."
The gentle grin on his face made me laugh.
"There's the smile I know and love. I'l meet you over at Star Walker's. Drive the speed limit, you hear?"
"Aye, aye, sir!" I jumped in the driver's seat, fastened my seat belt, and without a word, took off for Saz's house. Somehow, Chase's humor had managed to break through the gloom, and even though I felt on the verge of tears, I was smiling.
Saz lived in the dregs of town, along junkie row, hooker hangout, whatever you wanted to cal it. The back streets that we were navigating were definitely on the wrong side of the tracks. The address Yugi had dug up was a four-plex town house. If Doug's house had seen better days, this dump had seen better centuries. The carport looked two shakes and a nasty gust of wind away from crashing down, and I made certain not to park beneath it. It seemed the other tenants had the same idea--none of the slots were fil ed, though I saw lights shining in two of the units.
Chase didn't park there either. As he got out of the car, he motioned to me, and I jogged over. "We ran the license plates of the cars in front of Doug's house. Sure enough, one of them was his car. And we found his keys on the desk. No wal et, but that was likely in his pocket. Looks like your buddy got himself abducted, though that's off the record and not an official statement."
Ouch. I didn't want to think about who abducted him . . . or why, though in the back of my mind the words Wolf Briar kept repeating themselves over and over again. And the essential ingredient in Wolf Briar . . .>I paused, then pressed the doorbel . We could hear the chimes sounding from within. After a moment with no answer, I pressed the bel again, and pounded on the door. Nada.
Glancing at Menol y, I pul ed out my pack of lockpicks. Very few people knew I owned them, but they came in handy, and after being locked in a room by a harpy while a shop-keeper got kil ed, I'd quietly reassured myself I'd never be stuck in a room again. At least not one with easy-open locks. A moment later, I heard a faint click. I turned the knob, and the door swung ajar.
Quietly, I pushed the door open and sidled in, listening for any sound, looking for any movement. But the house felt cold and empty. I motioned for Menol y and Vanzir to fol ow me. Menol y shut the door behind her.
The hal way was tiled, but the tiles were worn, as was the paint on the wal s. This place was badly in need of fixing up. I edged forward, motioning for them to be quiet. A peek into the darkened living room showed that it was as empty as it seemed.
Vanzir tapped me on the arm and, in the lowest of whispers, said, "Maybe he's asleep?"
I shook my head. "I don't think so. Menol y, why don't you head upstairs and check it out--you're quieter than both of us combined."
As she slipped past me, silent and moving like a shadow, I found myself hoping that Doug Smith would be in his bedroom. Best scenario: He'd wake up and freak out that we were in his house. I'd rather face that than think about potential alternatives.
I motioned to Vanzir. "Quietly--very quietly--check out the living room. I'm heading through there." I nodded to an opening that led into what looked like a large kitchen-dining area. The wal s had a stucco texture, and from the decor, I'd say that the house was stuck back in the sixties or perhaps the early seventies.
As I crossed into what was, indeed, the kitchen, I scanned the room. Nobody there. In the dim light filtering in from the backyard where a floodlight shone over the al ey, I could see a stack of dirty dishes in the sink, encrusted with dried food. Flies buzzed around the plates.
Curious, I glanced in the fridge. Several open containers on the shelves proved what I thought I'd find. It was impossible to tel what the food had been; a flourishing colony of mold covered the tops of whatever the leftovers had been. A cantaloupe rested on one shelf, fal ing apart. I shut the door. Menol y wasn't going to find anybody upstairs. That much I knew. Wherever he was, Doug Smith hadn't been home in quite awhile.
Vanzir poked his head through the archway. "Nothing. Menol y's checking out the basement. I think I found the site of a scuffle, but it's hard to tel without turning on the lights."
"Hold on til she gets back. I don't think she's going to find anybody or anything down there." I spotted a rol of paper towels and tore one off, wiping my hands on it. Even touching the dishes in the sink had left me feeling dirty.
Just then, Menol y returned. "Nobody in the house."
"Thanks." I flipped on the light, flooding the room. The kitchen looked worse than I imagined, pots and pans and dishes fil ing the sink and drain board.
A cutting board with a rotten tomato and stinking meat sat on the counter. It looked like someone had been in the middle of fixing dinner when they were suddenly interrupted.
"Go find the light for the living room," I told Vanzir.
We fol owed him in and, as a dim lamp il uminated the room, I saw what he'd been talking about. A desk sat in the corner, a rundown sofa faced a television, and a bookshelf, overflowing with books, rested against one of the wal s. But the room was tidy, if a little threadbare. Except for a spot near the desk. One of the drawers had been yanked out and was upended on the floor, its contents spil ing across the rug. A lamp had been knocked over, its bulb broken. And one corner of the desk was clear--with papers scattered around the floor.
I knelt near the mess. Brown spots spattered the beige rug. "Menol y, take a look at this. Ink or . . ."
She squatted beside me and leaned down, inhaling deeply. Her nostrils flared. "Blood. Those are drops of blood."
