He did this job because he had no choice.
Her expression told him nothing. Nothing at all.
She’s bad, Daddy. Very, very bad. Had Emma been warning him about Sherry Bishop’s killer? Or his new partner?
FOUR
Monday—10:45 p.m.
She’d killed the wrong woman.
Tabby was sitting in the back corner of the coffee shop, but she didn’t watch the riverfront beyond the wide window, which was busy on this warm summer night; instead she kept her eyes on the patrons and the employees inside. She wouldn’t have thought a place that sold coffee and cookies would be so crowded this late on a Monday night, but the small tables were filled with a mixture of both tourists and regulars, who drank decaf and munched on giant-sized cookies. Many of the regular patrons and the two young waitresses on duty sniffled as they reminisced about the deceased Sherry Bishop. Okay, so she’d made a mistake. At least she had the pleasure of soaking in the pain and fear in the coffee shop for her trouble. Last night’s exercise hadn’t been a complete waste of time.
Until Tabby had seen the evening news, she’d had no idea that she’d killed the wrong woman. Satisfied and coming down off her natural high, she’d slept most of the day. When she’d awakened, she’d spent some time studying her newest souvenirs. One day she would learn of a way to use those mementos in a powerful working of magic that would give her the powers of those she’d killed. At the time she’d thought her newest victim was Raintree and therefore more powerful than the others, and so she’d touched what she’d taken with reverence and, yes, even glee. Everyone possessed some talent that could be taken, some gift that was wasted or ignored or undiscovered, but this was Raintree.
And then she’d turned on the television to watch the evening news, only to discover that what she’d taken had not been Raintree at all.
Who would have thought there would be two pink-haired women living in the same apartment? She sipped at her cooling coffee. Cael was going to kill her when he found out, unless she fixed her mistake, pronto. She’d been hoping Echo Raintree would be here tonight, so she could follow the girl to wherever she was staying and finish the job. But no such luck, at least not so far. The murder of both girls would raise a few eyebrows, she knew that, but what choice did she have? None.
So far Echo hadn’t made an appearance. Not tonight. Maybe she was off somewhere crying about her roommate’s death, but surely she wouldn’t stay away all week. If nothing else, the funeral would take place in a matter of days. Tabby didn’t know the details of the arrangements, but that info would be public soon enough. There was no way Echo could stay away from her roommate’s funeral. It just had to happen this week.
If Echo Raintree had a vision about what was to come and she warned her family, things would not go as smoothly as planned.
The door opened, and Tabby automatically turned her head to watch the couple enter the coffee shop. Her heart skipped a beat. Holy crap. Gideon Raintree. Her mouth practically watered. She wanted Gideon much more than she’d ever wanted Echo, but orders were to wait. Killing a cop would cause too much commotion, Cael said; it would raise too many questions. Later in the week, when it was almost time, then she could kill Gideon. But not tonight.
Tabby didn’t think anyone had seen her near the scene of the crime last night, but she was doubly glad she’d decided to wear the short brunette wig tonight. Her head was hot, and it already itched, but at least she didn’t have to worry about anyone recognizing her. She could relax, sit back and watch.
Gideon and the woman who was with him took a seat in the corner, where they could see everyone and everything in the restaurant. They were dressed casually, the woman all in black, Raintree in jeans and a faded T-shirt. Both of them were armed, though not openly. Ankle holsters for both; no badges visible. Was this an official visit? Of course it was. They were searching for Sherry Bishop’s killer.
Out of the corner of her eye, Tabby studied the woman with Raintree. Cael had ordered her not to take out Gideon just yet, but what about the woman? Was she a girlfriend? Cop? Judging by the ankle holster, she would have to say cop, but maybe the woman was both colleague and bed buddy. Something was going on. No fear or sadness radiated from the couple on the opposite side of the room, but there was energy. Sexual, slightly acrimonious, uncertain energy. Whatever the relationship might be, killing the woman would definitely sidetrack Raintree if he got too close too soon. It would raise a stink, though, which Cael definitely didn’t want just yet.
Tabby got antsy sitting and watching. Knowing she’d made a mistake did take some of the pleasure out of last night’s outing, and she wanted more. She always wanted more. She’d already screwed up this job, so what did it matter if she killed a cop who wasn’t a part of her original assignment? Getting rid of the woman would distract Gideon, and she needed him to be distracted. She needed his attention diverted to something besides Echo and the wrong damn dead woman.
Since everything had already gone wrong and Tabby didn’t dare contact Cael until the job was done, his instructions didn’t matter quite so much. As long as Echo and Gideon were both dead by the end of the week, she would be forgiven for any mistakes that happened along the way. She could shoot the female cop and Gideon from a distance at almost any time, but that wasn’t what she wanted. Tabby didn’t much care how she took out the woman, but Gideon was another matter entirely.
Gideon Raintree was a member of the royal family, next in line for Dranir, powerful in a way she could not entirely imagine. When she killed him, she wanted to be close. She wanted to be touching him when she thrust the knife that had taken Sherry Bishop’s life into his heart. She wanted his blood on her hands, and a souvenir or two for her collection.
Even though she had not yet discovered a way to take the gifts she longed to steal, she did draw energy from the keepsakes she collected. Properly treated and dried, stored in a special leather bag that grew heavier with each passing year, those mementos fed her power when she was, by necessity, subdued. Cael insisted that she curb her enthusiasm, that she be cautious and not draw attention to herself and her gifts. Not yet. Not until they had taken that which was rightfully theirs. She had been very subtle and cautious in the games she played, but all that was about to change.
Yes, she could take out her target from a distance, but killing Gideon Raintree would be a powerful and delicious moment, and she wasn’t yet ready to give up that moment in the name of expediency.
Tuesday—7:40 a.m.
Breakfast at the Hilton buffet, Raintree had informed her last night. It was a Tuesday morning tradition with the Wilmington PD detectives. Hope parked her Toyota in the lot and walked toward the restaurant, unconsciously smoothing a wrinkle out of her black pants and adjusting her jacket over her hips as she walked quickly toward the entrance. She was ten minutes late, but her mother had been talking her ear off as she’d left the shop, and it hadn’t been easy to get away.
The group she’d been invited to join was easy to spot. A round table in the center of the restaurant was occupied by nine men, all of them in suits, all of them Wilmington detectives. Raintree stood out, even in this crowd of similarly dressed men who held jobs much like his own. He might as well have a spotlight trained on him, the way he drew the eye. The men talked to and over one another as they drank coffee, and consumed eggs and bacon and biscuits. Hope held her head high as she wal
ked in their direction. It wasn’t long before a few heads turned. Eyebrows rose. Jaws dropped.
Hope was accustomed to the initial reaction she usually aroused. She didn’t look like a cop, and in the beginning there was always resentment, along with an unspoken question. Had she slept her way to the top? And if she hadn’t, would she? She had to be more businesslike, more distant, more dedicated, than any man in this profession. She never would have left Raleigh and started this process all over again if not for her mother. Nothing else could have made her go through this uncomfortable initiation period for a second time.
The only vacant chair at the table was next to Raintree. She took it, and he introduced her to the other detectives. After the initial round of questions and open interest, the men returned to their discussion: Where to meet for lunch tomorrow.
Eventually the conversation turned from food to cases currently under investigation, including—but not exclusively—Sherry Bishop’s murder. Through a number of outlets, state and federal, Raintree had requested the files of all unsolved murders of the same kind over the past six months, and by this afternoon he would have the majority of those files on his desk—and hers. As they talked about the case, a few important things quickly became clear. Gideon Raintree was a good cop, and the men he worked with respected and liked him.
Hope allowed herself to relax a little. Surely if Raintree was crooked, the others would know or at least suspect that something was wrong, and be mistrustful or distant or curious. She saw nothing like that at the table. Last night she’d been so certain that Raintree was somehow involved in the crimes he’d solved. Now she wasn’t so sure. Did she want to believe he was a straight arrow because he was charming and good-looking as well as infuriating? She didn’t want to be that shallow; she didn’t want to be like those women who judged men by their looks and their well-planned words, without ever looking inside to find what was real. It was impossible to tell what a man was like from the outside, and getting to know them well enough to learn the truth was too painful. At least, it had been for her.
Eventually the detectives finished eating and peeled away from the table to start their day. Hope and Raintree left together, stepping from the restaurant into a sunny, warm morning.