Midnight Hour (Shadow Falls: After Dark #4)(94)

Holding the cold bottle to her forehead, she told Della the breakup story. Then she told her how good it had been to spend the night with

Perry.

“How good?” Della lifted a brow, leaving no doubt what she was asking.

“We didn’t have sex,” Miranda told her.

“Still not sure?” Della asked.

“No. I’m sure. I just want the first time to be right. I don’t want to be worried about my sister, or studying.” Or my parents, or ghosts.

Or most of all, her sister.

“Makes sense,” the vamp said.

Miranda pulled out her phone. Why wasn’t Tabitha texting her back? “I’m so worried about Tabitha.” She slumped down on the grass and eyed

her phone.

Della plopped down beside her. “If it was my sister, I’d be worried sick, too. But Burnett’s got everyone on the case.”

Miranda nodded and checked for any messages. Not one.

Frustrated, she dropped back on the grass, and stared up at the clouds moving slowly across the sky.

Della fell back as well. “Holiday got our caps and gowns in. They’re dorky looking.”

“They’re supposed to be dorky looking.” Thoughts about graduation lead Miranda to thoughts about after graduation. She sat up. “We should

go study.”

“Yup.” Della bounced to her feet.

They hadn’t gotten to the path in the woods, when Miranda’s cell dinged with a text.

She yanked it from her pocket. She didn’t recognize the number. She read the text.

“It’s her,” Miranda yelped, and got happy tears in her eyes. “It’s Tabitha. She’s okay.”

*

Miranda sent a text back, asking her sister where she was, but Tabitha hadn’t answered.

Della had insisted they go tell Burnett—immediately. Not that Miranda minded, but she’d have liked a few minutes to be happy before dealing

with Burnett’s interrogation.

He always interrogated.

Sure, Miranda had a few questions of her own. Tabitha’s message was odd.

I can hear you worrying. Stop it. I’m fine. Tabitha.

Burnett frowned, sitting on the edge of his wife’s desk. “What does she mean?”

“I guess that I sent her like ten messages.”

“She didn’t use her phone to text you. And she said ‘hear you.’” Burnett looked at Holiday, as if communicating nonverbally.

Miranda wondered about that. “What’s important is that she’s fine.”

Burnett nodded. “I’m sending the number to my IT department to see if we can get a trace on the phone. That might tell us where she is.” He

frowned. “They may need your phone.”

She frowned not liking the thought of surrendering her cell, but agreed if they needed it.

“Until then if you hear anything, let me know that instant.”

She nodded.

Burnett stood and kissed his wife. “I’ll let you know what time I’ll be back.”

“You need some help?” Della asked.

“No, I’m assisting the Houston FRU with their search on the title of that house that was signed over.”

“Are you going to check on Perry?” Miranda asked. She didn’t like Perry doing this alone.

“I’m hoping to,” Burnett answered and left.

Holiday, her aura suddenly going murky, looked at Della. “Can you give us a few minutes?”

“What’s wrong?” Miranda asked when Della walked out.

“I heard from Ms. Wales. She thinks we might be on to something with you being related. She suggested that you do a DNA test to confirm it.

Burnett agreed to run it through the agency and get it done quickly.”

Why was that bad news? “Did she find the Evans name in her family tree?”

“Not exactly.” Holiday’s aura turned a little murkier. “The story isn’t pretty.”

“Okay…,” Miranda said. “Tell me.”

Holiday picked up a pencil. “Ms. Wales was told that her grandmother Evelyn Bradley was born out of wedlock. Evelyn’s mom, Mildred Bradley,

was supposedly raped. After Evelyn was born, Mildred killed the man who’d raped her. She was tried by the courts and executed for the murder.

Mildred’s sister raised the baby. Ms. Wales has the old newspaper article that states Mildred Bradley was hung for the crime of killing an

aristocrat named Rudolf Evans.”

Miranda sank deeper into the chair. “So you’re saying I come from a line of murderers and rapists.” She suddenly laughed. “Nothing like

coming from good stock.”

Holiday appeared concerned at Miranda’s reaction. “You know that doesn’t affect who you are.”

“I know.” And she believed it.

“But this could mean that you actually come from a lineage of mystic witches. And … it might explain Tabitha’s text. She heard you worrying.

”

Della popped in from the other room as if eavesdropping wasn’t rude. “And you were talking about her just a few minutes before you got the

text.”

“Really?” Holiday asked.

Miranda nodded then shook her head. “I’m not even good with my normal powers. I’m dyslexic and—”