Kitty Goes to War (Kitty Norville 8)

Cormac said, “All we have is speculation. We can’t do anything until he makes a move. Unless we want to take him down ourselves.”

Which put us in legal trouble, if we got caught.

I got up and went for my phone, in my bag on the coffee table.

“Who are you calling?” Ben said.

I’d already speed dialed the number; I held my hand up to ask Ben to wait. And the voice mail came up, which I expected. I left a message. “Hi, Rick. It’s Kitty. We may have a situation. I’ll explain later, when you’re awake. If I’m still here, that is.” I flipped the phone shut.

“Rick’s not going to be up until nightfall,” Ben said.

“I know, but at least he’ll know there’s trouble when he is up.” Then I dialed the second number.

Detective Hardin answered on the first ring. “Hardin here.”

Detective Jessi Hardin was my ally in the Denver PD, head of and pretty much only officer in the Paranatural Unit. She handled crimes involving the supernatural and had a generally open mind—and a hard nose.

I opened my mouth and realized I had nothing to say. This was what Ben and Cormac meant by not having proof. What did I tell her, that the respected president of a major company was really a wizard hit man out for my blood and that the entire city might be in danger? That was crazy even by my standards. Hardin was usually sympathetic, but this might be pushing my luck.

“Hi, Detective. How are you?” I said instead.

“Kitty, I’m a little swamped here. Do you need something?” I heard the sounds of traffic and yelling in the background.

“I don’t know,” I said, wincing. “I have some . . . suspicions. I’m afraid something might be up.” Was that vague enough?

She sighed. “I’m sure it’s very interesting, but unless you have an actual crime for me to investigate, can it wait?”

In other words, until we had something we could arrest Franklin for, she couldn’t do anything. “Yeah, sure. Sorry to bother you.”

I wasn’t sure she heard me—she was shouting at someone about getting a car off the road. “Kitty, I’ll talk to you later, okay?” she said into the phone.

“Sure. Hey, take care, it sounds rough out there.”

“You have no idea. Later,” she said, and hung up.

I closed the phone. Ben and Cormac were both looking at me, smug in their lack of expressions. They didn’t even have to say I told you so.

“The question still stands,” I said. “What are we going to do?”

“It’s a full moon tonight,” Cormac said. “I assumed you’d both be busy.”

Shitty timing, as usual. But if Cormac was right, it was all part of the plan. I returned to my seat; my coffee had gone cold.

“We’ll just keep our eyes open, as usual,” Ben said, and gave a fatalistic shrug.

“You’ll keep an eye on Franklin while we’re out?” I said.

“I’m stuck on him like a burr,” Cormac said, getting up and grabbing his coat off the back of his chair. He left the photo on the table.

“Be careful,” I said. He nodded, and closed the condo door behind him.

Chapter 16

THE SKY hadn’t done more than spit snow all afternoon. Meteorologist predictions didn’t call for anything worse than that, but I wasn’t making any bets. Low cloud cover made for a depressing trip out; the sky seemed darker than it should have been, settling over the city like a lead blanket.

Cormac called once to say he didn’t have any more news—Franklin was lying low. He told us to be careful, which indicated that he was, in fact, worried.

Well before sunset, Ben and I picked up Tyler and Walters at the VA hospital. Dr. Shumacher met us at the door. She wore jeans, a sweater, and a heavy down parka and looked like she was getting ready for an Arctic expedition. Fair enough; it was cold out. But it was so incongruous, so unlike her usual prim appearance and bearing. It set me on edge.