At First Light(Dr. Evan Wilding #1)(49)

The Chopin waltz came to a tinkling stop, and seconds later, Jo slid into the hallway. “I’m Jo. Would you like some tea? It’s English breakfast.”

“Nice to meet you, Jo. But nah, thanks. Early day tomorrow.” He reached into his pocket. “After you mentioned the birds, Sal and I thought we’d take another look around. We didn’t find any more pigeons. But we kept poking around, and that’s when Sally found your bell. And this.”

His hand reemerged from his pocket, and he passed a man’s heavy gold ring over to Evan. Evan set Ginny’s bell on the console table near the door and took the piece of jewelry.

The ring was clearly designed for a large hand. Carved all the way around the band was a series of runes. At the center of the ring, where the diamond would be set in an engagement ring, the metal had been crafted to a point. Two runes sat beneath the point. The rune for god. And the rune for spear.

God’s spear.

How odd that a Viking ring had shown up twelve miles from where the body of a man had been placed, surrounded by runes.

As if Blakesley had read his mind, the officer said, “Those are runic letters, right? Maybe the birds are part of some weird Viking thing?”

“Maybe,” Evan said. “I’d like to hang on to it, if that’s all right. I want to show it to Detective Bisset.”

The officer hesitated, then said, “Sure. Not like any crime was committed. If someone calls looking for it, I’ll let you know. Looks like an expensive bit of bling. And now”—he turned to Jo—“I’d better make like a tree and leave.”

Jo rewarded him with a giggle.

Evan opened the door once again, and Blakesley pushed open the screen. Halfway out, he paused and turned.

“I heard a little about this case you’re working on,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Just . . .” Blakesley tapped his hand lightly on the doorframe. “Seems like it’s one of the bad ones. Be careful out there.”

Startled, Evan said, “I will.”

Blakesley hurried down the brick walkway toward his truck. There came the flash of headlights, and a minute later, the night swallowed him and his truck.

Evan closed the door. Locked it. Wondered what had prompted Blakesley’s advice. Whatever it was, it gave him a bad feeling. Another bad feeling to add to the night’s count.

When he turned around, Jo was watching him. Her thin arms were folded over her chest. “What are you scared of?”

That was a very good question. Where to begin? Reading about bog bodies and seeing a man who’d been tortured to death had gotten under his skin, apparently.

He radiates wickedness, Diana had said about the man who called himself Raven.

Which didn’t mean he went about chasing after dwarfs. Or little girls. Or anyone at all. Evan shoved the ring in his pocket.

Jo was still watching him. “Mr. Evan?”

Evan pushed off from the door and approached Jo, his arms up and fingers hooked like an imaginary monster’s. “It’s true that I’m scared.”

She squealed. “Of what?”

“I’m terrified”—he drew closer—“that Miss Josephine”—and closer—“will never”—Jo pressed against the wall—“nail the last”—he pretended to pounce—“movement of the waltz!”

She stuck out her tongue.

Evan laughed.

Outside, the wind screeched like an unkindness of ravens.





CHAPTER 16


A few miles away from Evan, Addie dropped her phone onto the passenger seat.

She frowned.

Okay. She had perhaps, more accurately, slammed the phone onto the passenger seat.

Now she fumed, rapping her fingers on the top of the steering wheel and glaring out at the wind and the rain.

She took a few deep breaths, the way a meditation coach had taught everyone in the department. Most of the guys had laughed when human resources brought in a meditation teacher and offered a yoga class as a way of handling the dreaded “thin blue line” stress. But Addie had always been a good student. She liked learning things. And what the teacher said made sense—that in order to relax the mind and be at our sharpest, we first need to relax our body.

She’d been practicing yoga and meditation on and off in the months since.

Okay. She’d sat in meditation exactly twice. And done a few sun salutations. But it was a start. The teacher had talked a lot about intentions.

Right now, hers bordered on the criminal. Or at least uncharitable.

She picked up her phone, reread Clayton’s text.

Sorry gorgeous. Client is back on. Hate this job. Love u. Hope ur case is going well. Breakfast at Wildberry?

First, he’d delayed their meeting. Which was fine. She’d had time to go home and shower, change into something that made her feel like a woman instead of a street-hardened cop, right down to her lacy underthings. She’d even dabbed perfume behind her ears. The bottle was a few years old, a gift from a past love whose name she couldn’t recall. But the perfume still smelled nice.

She’d been halfway to Clayton’s home, feeling sexy and soft and more than ready to put murder aside for the night, when she got his text. Now she sat in her SUV on a deserted side street, decked in all her ridiculous finery, the engine of her Jeep Cherokee sadly the only thing that was going to do any purring tonight.