Dead Heat (Alpha & Omega #4)(85)
Hosteen made a reply, but Anna couldn’t hear what he said. His voice sounded happy.
“I like them,” Anna said, very softly.
Charles’s lips quirked. “Hosteen was watching Kage when he gave us that price, did you see?”
“He was right, though,” Anna observed. “You’d have paid ten thousand for her because she’s a challenge.”
He smiled, eyes soft. “I already have a challenge,” he told her in a gravelly voice.
She shook her head with mock sadness. “I’m not a challenge, Charles. I’m just another woman panting after you like that teacher with the hungry eyes at the day care.”
He laughed out loud. “Sure you are,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Sure you are.”
Well, she knew it was true, even if he didn’t believe her. His arm pulled her a little off balance, and paradoxically it steadied her at the same time. That was what Charles did to her heart, too. He knocked it off balance into what felt like the right position, a safe place that was still exciting, exhilarating, and terrifying.
What if I lost him?
Anna called Leslie in the morning.
“No, I can’t get you in to see Sean McDermit,” she said in a distracted voice. “His lawyer is a shark, and he’s not saying anything. Apparently all we have on him is that the bodies were found in his house, a house that he’s never lived in. And that he’s a fae. Which makes this all the more politically hot, given the current tension with the fae.”
“We’re not sure you have the right person,” Anna said.
There was silence on the other line.
“I found Archie Vaughn,” Anna told her. “He was killed a year and a half after he stopped that kidnapping. Torn to pieces by a fae. Why would someone who could tear apart a werewolf let human police officers pick him up without a fight?”
“I’ll take your concerns to our fae expert,” she said. “I hate to say it, but I’m suspicious about how easy this was, too. So I’ve got people doing background checks on anyone who was ever employed by or used the day care and everyone they knew.” She paused. “We’re also searching records of missing children, trying to identify the bodies. Some of that is on computer, some of it on microfiche, and still more of it is in paper files scattered all over the city. We’ve got a pair of poor flunkies wading through microfiche of hundred-year-old newspapers, too. It doesn’t help that it’s not just Scottsdale, it’s Phoenix and all the rest of the suburbs, too. We’ll be decades identifying the bodies in that attic.”
Anna made a sympathetic noise.
“Anyway,” Leslie continued, sounding more grounded and less frantic, “you’ll be as happy as I am that it looks like that poor baby we rescued yesterday wasn’t raped. She’s still traumatized, scared of the dark, terrified of dolls—and who could blame her—and she cries every time her parents aren’t in the room with her.”
“What did he do?” she asked.
“Dressed her like a doll, sang to her, hurt her. She said his touch hurt like a bee sting all over her body. Made her so she couldn’t move. She wasn’t asleep, she just couldn’t move.”
“Terrifying,” Anna said.
“Yes,” agreed Leslie, sounding tired.
“Since you have your manpower focused on research, you’ll be happy to know that we have werewolves guarding Amethyst’s parents, Dr. Vaughn, and his partner and his mother. Also, you and Leeds and Marsden. You won’t know they are there.”
Anna kept speaking over the top of Leslie’s indignant protest. “This one killed a werewolf, tore him to pieces with magic. A human simply doesn’t stand a chance. The werewolves will be wearing black Converse sneakers, so you’ll know not to shoot them or react to their presence. They are doing this because we feel it necessary, Leslie, putting their lives on the line. They are, all of this pack”—Hosteen had clarified this—“living as human. If you reveal what they are to the public, it might ruin their lives.”
Leslie made an unhappy sound. “I will keep their secrets, and make sure Marsden and Leeds are apprised, too. How long are we going to be protected?”
“Thank you,” Anna said, air leaving her in a whoosh of relief at Leslie’s agreement. “Until we are all convinced you have the right fae. If you need us, we’re going to the Arabian horse show at WestWorld in north Scottsdale. If we don’t pick up the phone, text us.”
“The horse show?” said Leslie. “Let’s see. Ms. Newman’s four-year-old class is going to be there in the morning and Miss Baird’s five-year-old class in the afternoon. Apparently they do it every year. Tomorrow it will be the two-year-olds and then Mrs. Hepplethwaite’s three-year-old class. Do you want any of the classes’ daily schedules by day? The music teacher on Monday and Wednesday is also the swimming instructor Tuesday and Thursday. Did I tell you we are taking a very close look at that day care?”
Anna laughed.
“Why do the two-year-olds have a teacher?” Leslie asked. “Don’t you think they should have a babysitter? Or even an entertainer? Can’t they just be toddlers and not students?”
“Students pay more for school than toddlers pay for babysitters,” Anna suggested.