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“Don’t go back to your car. Leave whatever is in her bag right where it is. Safer that way for you both.”
He frowned. “Someone will report it as abandoned.”
“So? You didn’t actually rent it, did you?”
He glanced at Kirby. She’d raised an eyebrow, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Well, no.” And he’d worn gloves when driving, so they wouldn’t find his prints. But they’d find Kirby’s. And they’d find her backpack.
“Believe an old witch when she says it’s best not to go back to that car. If our murderer saw you in Rachel Grant’s house, she’s had time to set a trap. Kirby’s probably got a car. Use that.”
He hadn’t thought of that. He raised an eyebrow in query, and she nodded.
“Keep in contact, shapeshifter. Hourly reports.”
“Will do.” He disconnected and tucked the phone away. Kirby picked up the list, studying it. “The third address is actually not far away from my place.”
“Then we’ll head to your place and continue on from there.” He motioned the waiter for the bill. “Tell me, why are you so desperate to go back to your place? It’s not just for money, is it?”
She bit her lip and looked away. “Helen told me to go. She said it was urgent.”
Doyle frowned. “Why?”
“She said I had to find her gift, that the gift I had wasn’t the one she’d left.” She hesitated. “Which made me wonder if perhaps that gift contained the tracker you were searching for.”
“It might.” He hadn’t felt any magic emanating from it, but then, the woman behind all this was obviously very adept at magic and could easily have shielded a tracking spell from casual examination. “Is there anyone else likely to have left you a gift?”
She shook her head, a smile touching her lips. “No boyfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He wasn’t, but it was still nice to have it confirmed. “Did you open the present in your pack at all?”
“I haven’t had the chance.”
“Probably just as well, given it might contain more than just a tracker.” He’d have to contact Camille and get her to check it out. If that present did contain some form of magic, it would need to be diffused. She might also be able to use it to trace the magic back to its source. “Why did Helen leave you a gift?”
“My birthday is tomorrow.” Her voice broke slightly, and she took a deep, shuddering breath. “Hers would have been, too. She was always talking to the wind and reading our futures. She must have known—”
Her voice broke again. He placed a hand over hers.
“Did Helen say why you needed to find her present so urgently?”
“She said I needed to say the words and complete the circle.” Kirby grimaced. “It doesn’t really make much sense.”
It did if there was some sort of spell involved. He stood. “Ready to go?”
“No.” She grimaced and rose. “And won’t it still be a crime scene?”
“More than likely, but we should be able to get around that.”
Her face went pale. “You’re not going to hurt anyone, are you?”
“Of course not.” Irritation edged his voice. “I’m a reformed thief, not a killer.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” Her voice faded and she bit her lip, looking contrite and confused and so damn cute all he wanted to do was hug her.
Instead, he took her hand and led her outside. They caught a cab but stopped at the top of her street, far enough away that any cops who might be watching the place wouldn’t immediately recognize Kirby. She climbed out as he paid the cabbie, but didn’t move when he joined her on the sidewalk.
“There’s a cop car out front.” Her voice was little more than a whisper, and was filled with horror. Not because of the cops, he suspected, but because of the memories evoked after she looked at the house they guarded. “I suppose they’re looking for me.”
“More than likely. And it’s only been a couple of days since the murder. They probably haven’t finished their investigation yet.” He clasped her fingers and squeezed them gently, then turned to study the house. Aside from the officers in the car, police tape barred the front door, which was closed. Which probably meant that there weren’t any other officers on site at the moment—although he had no doubt they would be back later in the day to search the scene yet again, hunting for the smallest of clues. But as Camille said, they were looking in all the wrong places. There was nothing in any procedural manual that would ever prepare them for something like magic—or the manarei.
