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"So, Nikki has that ability. We think we can use it to trace your daughter."
"Right. And my left foot plays ‘Jingle Bells.’ What are you two trying to pull?” Heat suffused his cheeks, making them look mottled. And him uglier, if that were possible. Jake shrugged. “If you don't believe us, why don't you go see Anita Coll? Nikki found her daughter alive and well, two days after the cops had given up looking for her." Trevgard suddenly looked thoughtful. Definitely no fool, despite outward appearances. He might not like the agency, or their methods, but he would use them—or anyone else—in order to bring his wayward daughter back.
He nodded abruptly. “All right. There's a charm bracelet Monica wore up until a week ago. I'll go get it—but if you think I'm going to let it out of my sight..."
"Fine,” Jake interrupted smoothly. “You can be here when Nikki makes the attempt to find Monica." Nikki opened her mouth to protest, but snapped it shut when Jake glared at her. She sipped her coffee and seethed in silence. Did Jake really expect her to find Monica with Trevgard breathing down her neck? Her talent wasn't always reliable, and distractions only made matters worse. Trevgard rose. “I'll go fetch it now, then."
"Fine. But don't bring it back until...” Jake hesitated and she held up her fingers. “About six this evening. Nikki has to rest before she tries this."
The older man grunted and strode to the door, his steps powerful despite his short legs.
"Phew,” she said, once he'd gone. “Talk about a powder keg."
"He's worried, believe it or not. But he's definitely in line for a heart attack if he keeps going.” Jake relaxed back into his chair. “And don't say the world would be better off. It's not polite."
"Neither am I.” She yawned. “Sorry. It's been a long night."
"So tell me what really happened tonight, then you can go home and rest." "It's a long story, boss.” And not one she was sure she could really explain.
"I have all day, kiddo."
She smiled wryly. That was a lie, and they both knew it. In his early forties, Jake didn't fit the typical image of private investigator. Absent were the scruffy looks, clothes in serious need of an iron and scuffed shoes. Jake's image was more the successful businessman. Not only did it make his clients more at ease, it gave him an extra advantage on the job. His look at the office was never the one he used in the streets.
She dug out a couple of donuts then tossed the box across to him. He caught it deftly and munched in silence as she gave him an edited version of the night's events. The zombies she left out, not sure if she could convince him they really existed. Jake had a hard time believing anything he couldn't see for himself. He whistled softly when she'd finished. “Sounds like Monica's got herself into something serious."
"It's more than serious. The man she's with ... he's evil, Jake. Pure evil.” She leaned back in her chair, shuddering at the seductive memory of fiery blue eyes. “I don't think we have a hope of getting her away from him."
He shrugged. “We have to try."
She bit into her doughnut. Yeah, they had to try, but she didn't hold much hope of succeeding. Evil had too strong a grip on Monica now.
Jake rose and poured himself a cup of coffee. “And this man that helped you, Michael Kelly? Where does he fit in?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I don't know."
"There's too much going on here that we just don't understand. I don't like it, Nik." She struggled to smother another yawn. “Neither do I. Not a lot we can do about it, though."
"I could take you off the case."
"And just who would take it over? You?” She grinned at him. “You're so busy now, you don't have time to scratch."
"This is true.” He shrugged. “One of these days I'm going to have to hire myself another investigator.” He gave her a sympathetic look as the yawn she'd been fighting broke free. “Why don't you go home and get some sleep? You look dead on your feet."
His words revived memories of the fetid breath and cold flesh of the creatures. She shuddered and rose quickly. “It's an offer I can't refuse. I'll leave the rest of the donuts, in case you want them."
"An offer I can't refuse.” He grinned, and helped himself to another donut. “Just make damn sure you're back by six. I might be tempted to murder our client if I have to put up with him for any amount of time tonight."
"Then I'll make sure I'm late,” she replied sweetly and stepped out the door before he could throw something at her.
* * * *
In the end, exhaustion and a broken alarm clock made her late getting back to the office.
"And what happened to six o'clock?” Trevgard said the minute she opened the door. His voice was mild given the anger she could sense in him. She looked at the clock. It was nearing six-thirty, so he had every right to be annoyed.
"What happened?” Jake asked, his irritation undisguised.
She grimaced. “Alarm clock."
