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“I know, but the driveway is empty.” He looked at me. “What? Do you think I’d park a car like this on the street?”
“You park on the street outside my house.”
“Because you live on a hill away from the rest of town. Nobody will nick my sideview mirror there.”
I didn’t argue. He locked the car, and we walked across the adjacent patch of lawn to reach the walkway to the Stewart house.
A rusty basketball hoop lorded over the top of the driveway. The garage door was open, offering a full view of bicycles, sleds, and other household equipment.
“Well, there’s definitely at least one child in this home,” I remarked.
“The changeling is nineteen at this point. Hardly a child by human standards.”
“As long as their age ends in ‘teen,’ they’re a kid as far as I’m concerned.”
Kane shot me a quizzical look but said nothing.
“What?” I prompted, as we arrived at the front door.
“You want to protect children the way you weren’t protected.”
“I was protected.” Up to a point. Once Pops died, I had no choice but to enter the foster care system.
“You were taught to hide. It isn’t the same.”
“Now you sound like Ray.”
I rang the doorbell. A woman answered, clutching a phone in one hand and a coffee cup in the other.
“Are you Sarah Stewart?” I asked.
The woman immediately moved to shut the door with her hip.
“A woman after my own heart,” I murmured.
Kane managed to wedge his Gucci loafer between the door and the jamb before she could fully close it. “This will only take a moment of your time, madam, I assure you.”
The woman’s head jerked up at the sound of the demon’s silky-smooth voice. “What do you want?” she asked, although her tone was softer than the question demanded.
“We’re searching for an adopted child who would now be approximately nineteen years of age,” he said. “A girl.”
“No adopted kids in this house. I gave birth to all four of those whiny brats, and I’ve got the stretch marks to prove it.”
Well, this Sarah was an absolute delight. I was relieved Sian was at the Castle.
“Thank you for your time,” Kane said with a slight bow.
The woman used her foot to slam the door in our faces.
“Someone is questioning her life choices,” I muttered.
“At least you can cross her off the list.”
“Did you hypnotize her?” I asked, as we returned to the car.
“You underestimate me if you think I needed demon magic to appeal to her.”
“I’m glad you didn’t tack on ‘good nature’ at the end of that sentence.”
