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I checked the dates and saw that the boy had gone missing about three weeks earlier, just after the last full moon. It might be coincidental, but it also might mean something. Bad shift? Did someone die accidentally? The file didn’t answer my questions, so I decided to go right to the source.
“Nolan?”
No response.
I moved into the hallway and stood at the base of the stairs, which led to the second-floor bedrooms. Again, I yelled, “Nolan. ”
This time there was a response, but it didn’t come from upstairs.
“Secret?” The reply was muffled and came from the direction of the kitchen. Something about the note of panic in his tone made me bolt for the kitchen. I skidded through the swinging door, my socks propelling me across the smooth floor until my hip connected with the low marble counter.
Nolan was standing beside the stove, fanning at a plume of smoke that was billowing out of the oven. He gave me a worried look before returning to the task at hand.
“Turn off the oven,” I instructed.
For a moment he was too surprised to move, until I nudged him aside and turned the oven off, then flicked the switch to turn on the exhaust hood. Smoke was sucked upwards, but enough remained in the kitchen to sting my eyes.
I opened the oven, and inside was a charred tray of black sticks.
“Wanna fry?” Nolan asked, his eyes red and his smile sheepish.
I guess not all of the men in my life could be gifted in the kitchen.
“Let those cool before you throw them out. I’ll call for delivery, and then we can talk about this file you’re working on. ”
In Keaty’s office, I was digging around for a phonebook when my cell phone started trilling at me. At first I didn’t recognize it, because my usual ring tone was Tom Petty, but my phone was currently singing “Baby, It’s Cold Outside”. Leave it to my sneaky diurnal boyfriend to change my ring tone while I was asleep for the day.
In my haste to answer, I didn’t check caller ID so I opened with a questioning, “Hello?”
“Hey, Secret, it’s Cedes. ”
“Hey, lady, what can I do for you? You find Sharon Stone yet?”
There was a long pause, then she cleared her throat. “Keats made you get your PI license, right?”
“Yes,” I replied warily.
“I’m going to need you to come down to the precinct. ”
My whole body tensed. When a homicide detective asked you to come in, it usually wasn’t for anything good. “Is something looking less stabby and more vampy? ’Cause I haven’t been on active duty for months, so it wasn’t m—”
“It’s not a vampire I’m worried about. ” Her voice was hushed, so she must have been around other officers. Humans, by and large, weren’t big believers in vampires.
“What’s going on?”
“Can you just come, please?”
“Sure. ”
The NYPD’s seventy-sixth precinct looked like a high school that might burst into a West Side Story-type gang war at any moment. It was a squat concrete building with no color and no life. I dragged myself up the steps, trying to imagine what might make Mercedes call me in like this.
Behind the front desk was a pretty young receptionist whom I’d had the displeasure of meeting on several previous visits.
“Barbie,” I greeted. No, I wasn’t kidding. And this girl gave me attitude for being named…
“Secret. ” Her smile was forced and her voice barely masked her contempt. “Castilla and Novak are expecting you in the conference room. ”
Novak? Oh sweet, honorable crap. Detective Tyler Nowakowski was the last person I was prepared to see tonight. For some stupid reason my hands flew up to check my hair, and I was thankful I’d at least done something with it. As for my new personal uniform of tight black leather pants and knee-high boots, I had made a valiant effort to girlie them up by wearing a lilac cardigan over a butter-yellow tank. Still, it’s hard not to look like you’re a member of a biker gang when you’re wearing leather pants. I’d gotten sick of ruining all my best jeans with bloodstains, and leather was easier to keep clean.
