White Hot (Hidden Legacy #2)(121)

The laptop dinged. A new e-mail, from Bern, popped into my inbox. I clicked it.

Brian Sherwood, 32, second son of House Sherwood, Prime, herbamagos. Principal business: Sherwood BioCore. Estimated personal worth: $30 million. Wife: Rynda (Charles), 29. Children: Jessica, 6, and Kyle, 4. Siblings: Edward Sherwood, 38; Angela Sherwood, 23.

Brian Sherwood was a plant mage. Rynda was an empath with a secondary telepathic talent. That didn’t add up. Primes usually married within their branch of magic. As Rogan once eloquently explained to me in his falling-on-his-sword speech, preserving and increasing magic within the family drove most of their marriage decisions.

I looked back to her. “I don’t know yet if I’m your best option. It may be that you would be better served by a different agency. But before we talk about any of that walk me through your Thursday. You woke up. Then what happened?”

She focused. “I got up. Brian was already awake. He’d taken a shower. I made breakfast and fixed the lunches for him and the kids.”

“Do you fix their lunches every day?”

“Yes. I like doing it.”

Brian Sherwood, worth thirty million dollars, took a brown bag lunch his wife made to work every day. Did he eat it or throw it in the trash? That was the question.

“Brian kissed me and told me he would be home at the usual time.”

“What time is that?”

“Six o’clock. I said we’d be having cubed steak for dinner. He asked if fries were involved.”

She choked on a sob.

“Who took Jessica to school?”

She glanced at me, surprised. “How did you know her name?”

“My cousin pulled your public records.” I turned the laptop so she could see.

She blinked. “My whole life in one paragraph.”

“Keep going,” I told her. “How did Jessica get to school?”

“Brian dropped her off. I took Kyle on a walk.”

Lie.

“I called Brian around lunch. He answered.”

Truth.

“What did you talk about?”

“Nothing serious.”

Lie.

“I’m not your enemy. It would help if you were honest with me. Let’s try this again. Where did you and Kyle go and what was the phone call about?”

She set her lips into a flat, hard line.

“Everything you tell me now is confidential. It isn’t privileged, like conversations with your attorney, which means I will have to disclose it in a court proceeding. But short of that, it won’t go anywhere.”

She covered her face with her hands, thought about it for a long moment, and exhaled. “Kyle’s magic hasn’t manifested. I manifested by two, Brian manifested by four months, Jessica manifested at thirteen months. Kyle is almost five. He’s late. He’s seeing a specialist. I always call Brian after every session because he wants to know how Kyle did.”

For a Prime, a child with no magic would be devastating. Rogan’s voice popped into my head. “You think you won’t care about it, but you will. Think of your children and having to explain that their talents are subpar, because you have failed to secure a proper genetic match.”

“Your anxiety spiked. Why? Was it something I said? Is the specialist important?”

“I don’t know yet.” She would be a really difficult client. She registered every emotional twitch I made. “Did Kyle manifest?”

“No.”

“What happened next?”

She sighed and went through her day. She fed the kids, then they read books and watched cartoons together. She made dinner, but Brian didn’t show. She called his cell several times over the next two hours and finally called his brother. He was still at work. He walked down to Brian’s office and reported that it was empty. He also called down to the front desk and the guard confirmed that Brian had signed out and left the building a quarter before six.

“How far is your house from Sherwood BioCore?”

“It’s a ten-minute drive. We live in Hunter Creek Village. BioCore is at Post Oak Circle, near the Houstonian Hotel. It’s three and a half miles down Memorial Drive. Even with heavy traffic, he’s usually home in fifteen minutes.”

“Did Edward mention if Brian was planning to make any stops?”

“He didn’t know. He said he wasn’t aware of any meetings scheduled that afternoon.”

“Did he sound concerned?”

She shook her head. “He said he was sure Brian would show up. But I knew something was wrong. I just knew.”

All the standard things someone does when their loved one is missing followed: calls to hospitals and the police station, driving the route to look for the stranded car, talking with people at his job, calling other family members asking if they heard anything, and so on.

“He didn’t come home,” she said, her voice dull. “In the morning I called Edward. He told me not to worry. He said Brian had seemed tense lately and that he would turn up. I told him I would file the police report. He said that he didn’t feel there was a need for it, but if it would make me feel better, I should file it.”

“How did he seem to you?”

“He seemed concerned for me.”

Interesting. “For you? Not for Brian?”

“For me and the kids.”