The Trouble with Twelfth Grave (Charley Davidson #12)(56)

“You said that this priest—”

“If it is the priest.”

“Right, if it is this priest and he’s attacking people who can see into the supernatural realm—”

“Exactly, but why? Why would he attack people at all?”

“More importantly, what’s to keep him from attacking Quentin? I mean, Quentin doesn’t just see into the supernatural realm. He can communicate with them.”

“Oh, Cook,” I said, my pulse suddenly rushing in my ears. “I didn’t even think. Can you call Amber and have her get him a message?”

“Of course. But, not to shine a glaring light on the obvious, what’s to keep the priest from attacking you?”

“I can handle him. Don’t you dare worry about me. But Quentin…”

“I’ll take care of it. Maybe we need to send him away for a while, too.”

I bit my bottom lip in thought. “I wonder if he would be safer at the convent. You know, that whole sacred ground thing?”

“It’s worth a shot.”

“Okay, have Amber tell him to get his butt home pronto. Oh, and Pari,” I added. “Can you call her? I’m about to sting Kit.”

“Sounds … painful. I can definitely call her. Should I tell her to leave town?”

“Yes. She won’t, but tell her to. In fact, send Garrett to watch her if he’s finished with his skip.”

“You got it. Any excuse to talk to that man.”

“Right? Have you seen his abs lately?” A heat washed over me with the statement and it wasn’t coming from inside me. I ignored it. Jealously was so unbecoming.

We hung up, and I set up the sting, otherwise known as Operation Spy on Kit and Get Her to Reveal the Whereabouts of a Certain Witness to a Crime Perpetrated by the Newly Departed Hector Felix. I was so bad at naming operations.

I dialed Kit’s number and waited. She didn’t pick up the first time, so I tried again. She was an FBI agent. She had important shit to do. Important shit I had no problem interrupting, so I tried again.

After the fifth call, she finally picked up. “Davidson,” she said, her voice a little edgy. A little sharp. A little irked.

“Carson,” I said back. “’Sup?”

“Okay, I’ll be right there,” she said to someone other than me. I hoped. “I’m headed into a meeting, Davidson. Is this business or pleasure?”

“It’s always pleasure when you’re involved, Kit.”

“So, business. What do you need?”

“Oh, nothing too urgent. It’s just, this woman came in with fresh cuts all over her face. It was awful, Kit. She wants to hire me, but I told her to go to the police. She said she’d already been talking to the FBI, but she was afraid for her life. She wants me to find her attacker.”

“What?” Kit said, taken aback. “We already know who attacked her. Damn it. I’ll call you right back.”

She hung up before I could say, “Okeydokey.” Thirty seconds later, Angel was back with a stunned expression on his face.

“I can’t believe that worked.”

“Told you. I should’ve gone to Hollywood. I could’ve been a contender.”

“She just dialed the number to one of the agents watching your witness.”

“In her defense, not many of their enemies can send in a departed teenager to spy on them and intercept the numbers of their outgoing calls.”

“True.” He repeated the number Kit had dialed to check on Judianna Ayers.

I called Cookie, relayed the message, then told her to work her magic. Five minutes later, as horrible as the truth of what we’d done felt, we had a location.

“No way could it have been that easy,” I said, growing worried.

“I know, right? But this is the address that came up. That number is sitting pretty right there.”

“But it’s a witness protection gig. It can’t have been that easy to get this information.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You know what? I’m punching a hole in their security measures. Teaching them where they went wrong. Where they need to tighten up.”

“Better you than a real enemy. Be careful, hon.”

“Okay. I’ll check it out. Thanks, Cook.”

I headed to the address Cookie gave me in the South Valley off Fourth Street. Not the best part of town. Not the worst, either. There were some really cool historic houses in the district. It gave the area a certain charm not afforded the worse parts of Albuquerque. The war zones.

Knowing I’d never get through security to see Judianna and could be arrested just for trying, I did the next best thing. I bypassed security. I shifted onto the celestial plane, straddling the two realms, and walked through an exterior wall of the residence and into the bathroom, hoping beyond hope we had the right address.

I cracked open the door and listened. A TV blared from the living room, and two agents sat at a table nearby. Relief washed over me. We definitely had the right address. Now to find Judianna.

I started to sneak down the hall when I heard a soft voice behind me.

“I’ll scream,” it said.

I froze, then slowly turned to see the once-beautiful Judianna Ayers standing behind me with a toothbrush in her hand.