Grave Dance (Alex Craft, #2)(93)

I cringed. John was my friend, but he was a cop first, and I cringed. John was my friend, but he was a cop first, and I knew I wasn’t instil ing a lot of confidence. I could almost hear him thinking that he was going to have to report the fact that I’d contacted him. I took a deep breath. “I wasn’t ever working for the FIB, but I think I’m sort of, accidental y, involved with Falin. I had no authority to be on your crime scene.”

The line was silent a moment longer. Then a low chuckle rumbled over the phone. “Accidental y involved? Only you, Al,” he said, apparently forgiving me for the trespassing without a word. “You have broken more of my boys’ hearts after a one-night stand than I can even guess, and then you end up ‘accidental y’ dating the biggest * to ever walk through this place. You’re right. That’s complicated.”

By “boys” he meant cops. I had a bit of a reputation at the station, so I let John have the laugh at my expense. I knew the next thing he would say would be on a more somber note.

“So tel me what you did to piss off the FIB. It has to be more than trespassing on the crime scene. The warrant is sealed. Al anyone around here knows is that you are to be detained and turned over to the FIB.”

“It’s bul shit. The reason they’re after me is tied in with the fact that I can see through glamour.” Which was true—it was just that the reason I could see through glamour was because I could peer across realities. I wasn’t going to share that detail with anyone, though, not even John.

Folklore was ful of stories about mortals being struck blind because they could see through glamour, so my ability to See was reason enough for John to believe the FIB would take an interest. “And, John, their timing sucks.”

I told him an abbreviated version of Hol y’s kidnapping, the most recent construct attack, and the meeting at the bridge tonight. I left out the bits about independent fae getting spirited away to Faerie, the constructs being fueled by souls, and my theories involving the reaper.

“Damn,” John whispered when I finished. He and Hol y

“Damn,” John whispered when I finished. He and Hol y weren’t terribly close friends, but as an assistant district attorney and a homicide detective, they had worked more than a few cases together.

“So what do I do?”

“You need to file a missing-person report. As there’s a ransom note, it’s clearly an abduction.” He paused.

“Actual y, let me take care of that. You can’t walk into a station while the FIB is looking for you.” His chair squeaked again and I could tel he was pacing. Wel , so was I. After a moment he said, “The detectives in charge of missing-persons inquiries wil cast a tracking spel , though I have to warn you that most kidnappers are smart enough to hide victims behind wards, so there probably won’t be a quick solution. The detectives in charge wil also likely try to make contact with the kidnapper. That wil probably be hard since you’re in hiding, but they wil try to buy time and get the kidnapper’s demands.”

“We already know what they want.”

“Alex, you can’t go to that bridge. This isn’t a money drop that can be done quietly and hope for the best. Whoever this is wants you for her, and it’s not like you’ve had any confirmation she’s even stil alive.”

My throat tightened. “She’s been gone less than a day.” “I know,” he said, and his voice had that raw sound people get when they don’t have the right words. “This is not my type of investigation. If I get handed this case, something has gone very, very wrong.”

Considering that John worked homicide, I couldn’t agree more.

We were both silent for a moment, the only sound the static buzzing as the house wards interfered with my cel signal.

“You’re going to go, aren’t you?” he final y asked.

“Yeah.”

His heavy sigh carried through the phone. “I’l make some cal s, see if I can get you some backup on that bridge at the cal s, see if I can get you some backup on that bridge at the very least. But, Al, if this goes down, I can almost guarantee the cavalry that swoops in to the rescue wil also arrest you.”

I sank down onto the bed. “Yeah. I know.”

There was real y nothing left to say after that. He disconnected with a promise to get back to me and a warning to be careful. I checked the time. Nine thirty. I had four hours before I needed to leave to reach the bridge at two. Well, I can always get some sleep. Rest could only help. I set my phone alarm for midnight. Then I col apsed on the bed, settling in for what I was afraid might be the last bit of rest I managed to snatch for a while.

By the time I woke, my eyes had recovered and my psychic vision had faded until the other planes were visible only as ignorable washes of color. At twelve thirty I cal ed for a taxi.

I didn’t have any more cash, but I had my bank card. It would leave an electronic trail I didn’t want, but it wasn’t like the cops didn’t know where I was headed. John had sent two text messages while I slept. The first said missing persons had no hits with the tracking spel and the second said we were set for two.

I’d already taken a shower—and I’d been shocked to find my clothes clean and folded and my boots buffed when I got out—but I stil wasn’t ful y awake, so I headed for the kitchen while I waited for the car to arrive. I was on the hunt for coffee when a cabinet door smashed open behind me.