The Long Way Down (Daniel Faust #1)(46)

“Oh, caddy,” called a voice behind me.

Caitlin rested a golf bag against the hip of her plaid trousers, wearing a snug turquoise blouse accented by a white cap. She beckoned me over with a smile.

“You’ll do. Carry my bag?”

I raised an eyebrow, but obligingly shouldered her bag as we walked out onto the green.

“Fancy meeting you here,” I said. “I’m guessing it’s not a coincidence.”

“No coincidences in magic, isn’t that something you people say?”

She flagged down a golf cart and we drove out to the first hole. I searched for something pithy to say, but the best I could come up with was, “You look great.”

“Thank you! Just a little outfit I threw together. Is the plaid too much?”

“It’s golf,” I said. “I think the plaid’s just right.”

“That was my thought. Do things properly or go home.”

We got out of the cart, and she studied the curve of the green, a light breeze ruffling her curls.

“What club should I use for this hole?” she asked.

“I…have no idea. I don’t know how to play.”

She grinned, sliding a six iron from the bag. “You’re a terrible caddy. How did you ever get this job?”

“No idea. This strange woman just came up and hired me, and I couldn’t bring myself to say no.”

“Have to watch out for those strange women,” she said, her club slicing through the air with a whistle. She struck the ball square on, sending it flying in a gentle arc toward the hole. “Hmm. Might birdie this one. So tell me what you learned today.”

She drove the cart while I gave her a rundown of what I’d heard.

“Their succubus?” She glowered. “Oh, they’re going to get it. So Sheldon and this Brand woman both work for Carmichael-Sterling?”

“Right, and the other man, Tony, talked about construction permits. I’d bet all four of them are transplants from Carmichael’s home office in Seattle.”

My phone buzzed against my leg. I took it out and glanced down. Caller unknown. Shrugging, I put it back in my pocket.

“And they’re collecting souls,” Caitlin said. “A specific number of them. Some sort of sacrifice, perhaps.”

“Souls that have to ‘qualify,’ so there’s definite criteria involved. The question is, why would—” I paused as my phone started buzzing again. “Excuse me.”

I put the phone to my ear. Before I could even say hello, a thin, frightened voice rasped, “Mr. Faust?”

“Maybe,” I said, “who’s calling?”

“You have to help me,” he said. “Please, you have to help me, there’s no time.”

I slumped. “Wow, did you catch me on a bad week. Look, I’m a little tied up—”

“It’s Mr. Agnelli. He’s going to kill me.”

“Nicky Agnelli?” I said, sitting bolt upright. Beside me, Caitlin’s eyes went hard.

“He had me watching you, Mr. Faust, but I saw too much. I looked places I shouldn’t have and now he’s going to get rid of me—”

“Okay. Okay, calm down. Where are you, right now?”

“Running. I’m running,” he gasped, “but the twins are after me. Please, I’ve seen what you can do; you’re my only hope! There’s a parking garage on Lamb Boulevard. Meet me on the fifth floor, in an hour. Please, come quickly!”

“All right,” I said, “I’ll be there.”

I hung up.

“Well?” Caitlin asked.

“I think that was Nicky’s pet seer. He says Nicky’s trying to kill him, and he needs a rescue. I figure it’s a seventy-five percent chance of being a trap. Maybe eighty.”

“Let’s go,” she said, nodding firmly. “If he’s really on the run, he could be the evidence I need to bring Nicky down for good.”

I shook my head. “I’ll go. If it’s a trap, it’s a trap for you, not for me.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I know the odds. Think about it. You said it yourself, this guy is just what you need. Nicky knows that too. He couldn’t come up with a better piece of bait if he tried.”

Caitlin folded her arms. “And if it is a trap, and you walk in alone?”

“Then I take my chances. Nicky wants to kill me because I got in his way and I hurt his pride. He’s still a businessman, though, and he won’t risk his life to wage a vendetta when he can take his time and get me weeks, months, years from now. You, on the other hand, he needs to kill or recapture because he knows you’re loose and you have a pretty good idea of who set you up. I’m not sending you into a death trap, Caitlin. I won’t do it.”

“And I don’t want—” she paused, clenching her arms across her vest. She shook her head. “Go. But you call me, as soon as it’s over. I want to make sure that you’re…I want to hear how things went.”

“I don’t have your number.”

She plucked my phone from my hand and thumbed over to the contacts menu, adding herself to the roster. Cait, the new listing said.

“Go,” she said.

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