Living With the Dead (Otherworld 9)

Hope sat at a diner window, watching the front door of another restaurant across the road. Robyn was inside, having lunch and waiting for Adele Morrissey. They'd considered having her sit at the window, but given that Adele had no compunctions about shooting people in broad daylight, it seemed unwise to tempt her.

Robyn had a new prepaid cell and a panic button. Karl had miraculously produced the button last night, saying he'd like Hope to start carrying it. With that, she knew that even before last night he hadn't been underestimating the danger she faced.

Karl must have taken the button and receiver last year, when he'd had Benicio Cortez supply it for a job they'd been working. He'd kept it all this time, even bringing it to Los Angeles, where she'd expected to do nothing more dangerous than her regular job. In other words, he'd been waiting for the excuse to pull it out and say, "I think you should carry this."

He shouldn't need an excuse. But he wasn't wrong to think he did, at least not if he expected her to give in without a fight.

If it made him feel better, she'd start carrying it. Time for her to grow up and realize no matter how hard she trained, there would be some situations she couldn't handle alone.

For now, though, Robyn had the panic button and she'd taken it without question, accepting that this was not something she could handle on her own. So now Hope sat at a diner table, cell phone out in case Robyn called, panic button receiver on her lap. Karl was outside, scouting the perimeter while making a phone call. When he returned, Hope asked, "What did Jeremy say?"

"He's going to give it some thought."

She picked a bacon bit from her uneaten salad, hearing her mother sigh about table manners. "You told Jeremy that she suspects what you are, but we haven't confirmed it, right?"

"Yes."

"I know Pack Law says any human who learns the truth has to be - "

"That's not going to happen, Hope. Jeremy wouldn't consider that unless Robyn did something stupid."

"Like stealing tissue samples from you and selling them on eBay?"

"Which we both know would never enter her mind. She's nothing if not trustworthy."

The knot in Hope's stomach eased. The Law had always seemed reasonable. The Pack was very careful. Even if someone spotted them as wolves, they'd mistake them for very large dogs, so the chance of anyone accidentally discovering their secret was next to none. So if the Pack had to very, very rarely kill a person to protect themselves and, by extension, the supernatural world, it was a small price to pay. But if that "threat" was her friend, a reasonable rule suddenly became barbaric.

"Do you think I'd let them do that?" Karl asked after a moment.

"It's Pack Law."

"The Law can go to hell, and if Jeremy ordered me to do it, I'd tell him he could follow."

She wasn't sure she liked that answer much better. The Pack was supposed to be a werewolf's first loyalty. After a lifetime as a lone wolf, Karl had trouble with that, and it worried her.

He caught her gaze, misreading her lowered eyes. "I wouldn't do that to you, Hope."

She picked another bacon bit from under a salad leaf.

"As I said, though, it isn't an issue. Jeremy understands the circumstances and that it wasn't anyone's fault, including Robyn's. Moreover, if we avoid answering questions, it'll only make her more curious. He suggested we don't hold things back - just slow her down, giving her time to take it in and decide whether she really wants to spend her life seeing new threats in every dark alley and wooded path."

Hope's cell phone rang. She checked the display. "Lucas."

Karl took it. Earlier he'd asked Paige to look up a number from Grant Gilchrist's cell phone, which he'd taken last night. Robyn said someone had called Gilchrist and it sounded like the other person had set him on her trail. They'd tried calling the number - the only one in the call list - to find it disconnected.

"Prepaid cell phones," he said as he hung up. "Both Gilchrist's cell and the number he called."

Hope looked out at the street. "We've had her in there almost ninety minutes. Much longer and if Adele does show up, she might realize it's a trap. Time to move on."

How do you catch someone who is watching your every move? Let her watch.

If Adele wanted Robyn, then they'd give her Robyn. Maybe she'd realized it was a trap. Or maybe after that long night, she was sleeping. They were counting on the latter. They moved Robyn to location two: a big-box bookstore that encouraged browsing, where she wouldn't look out of place.

As for the chance that a concerned citizen would recognize her from Friday's paper, she'd been wandering around L.A. for three days, and no one seemed to notice. It was a big anonymous city. Robyn was young, blond and attractive. Los Angeles was full of younger, blonder and more attractive women.

Their new choice came with an even better surveillance location - a coffee shop on the second floor, overlooking the first, where Robyn sat. They'd been there just long enough to buy coffees when Karl said, "We're being followed."

When Hope looked up, he shook his head and touched the side of his nose, meaning he'd smelled someone, not seen him.