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Adam had shown up at some point this morning, bringing bags of pastries and a box of coffee that was ten times better than the crap in the hospital cafeteria. He’d spent the day here, too.
As the day had worn on into afternoon, Hannah’s worry had begun to turn to dread. Michael’s brothers should have heard something by now. Her father still wasn’t answering her calls.
So she’d found a deck of cards. Poker was the first suggestion that had caught their interest. And held it.
Chris was still watching her with something like a glare on his face. “Can’t you use some of your connections to find out what’s going on?”
Hunter kicked him under the table. “Can’t you stop being a dick for five minutes?”
Chris shoved out of his chair and went after him. Gabriel got a hold of him, but not before pretzels and playing cards scattered everywhere.
Hunter hadn’t moved from his chair. His expression was full of derision. “Can’t you grow up?”
Chris’s breathing was too quick. “Fuck you, Hunter. What are you even doing here?”
Gabriel pushed him back in his chair. “Come on, Chris.”
“Come on, what? He doesn’t need to be here.”
“Oh, because you give a crap?” said Hunter. “Sure looked like it when you were roaming the woods the other night.”
Nick was picking up the fallen pretzels. “Stop,” he said, his voice tired.
“Forget it.” Chris jerked free of Gabriel’s hold and walked away from the table. “I’m done.”
They all picked up cards and pretzels in silence for a moment. “Should we go after him?” said Adam.
ictures. The texts. The threats. “Is that why I was chained to the bed? Because someone else was threatening me?”
“This is where the really honest part is going to be important, even though you haven’t kept up your end of the bargain.” The fire marshal paused. “I think this is bigger than just your neighborhood and that restaurant. Am I right?”
Michael had nothing to say. How could he explain? How could he even begin to wrap words around the scope of this?
Well. It began when I was a teenager, and my parents made this deal . . .
“This goes beyond the carnival, too, doesn’t it?”
Michael didn’t say anything.
“They’re talking about bringing in the FBI,” said the fire marshal. “You can talk to me or you can talk to them. I guarantee they’re not going to give you the benefit of the doubt. You know something. It’s obvious you know something. It’s all over your phone.”
Michael wished he’d run. This morning, when they’d made the decision to go to Adam’s. He should have just gotten on the highway and started driving.
They had no proof, right? All they had were text messages he’d received.
“You mention Calla,” said the fire marshal. “In one of your messages.” He paused, waiting for a reaction. Michael didn’t give him one, though the machine kept beeping out his heart rate, quicker than normal.
The man leaned against the bed rail. His voice was low, conspiratorial. “I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you that Calla was listed as missing after the fires at the carnival, and her body was never recovered. Want to tell me why you’d think she was sending you text messages claiming responsibility for the fires in your neighborhood?”
Oh, that’s easy. Because Calla is a psychotic Fire Elemental who wants to start a war between the Elementals and the Guides. Oh, wait, you don’t know about Elementals? Here, let me tell you . . .
Michael inhaled a long breath and set his jaw.
Marshal Faulkner held up the phone again. “You were texting Hannah around the same time. Did anyone else have access to your phone?”
No one had, but Michael was expecting a trap now, so he didn’t answer.
You were texting Hannah at the same time.
