Bitter Bite (Elemental Assassin #14)(8)

wind whipping around the windows.

I drew in a breath. “Remember Raymond Pike and how he bragged that he was

working with what sounded like a whole group of people?”

“Yeah . . .”

“Well, I found out who one of them was.”

“And?”

“Her name is Deirdre Shaw.” It took me a second to force out the rest of my

confession. “And she is Finn’s not-so-dead mother.”

Bria’s eyes bulged, and her mouth dropped open into a wide O. For a moment,

she was frozen in place, her entire body stiff with shock. She sucked in a

breath, then exhaled and shook her head, as though she were trying to rattle

my words right out of her mind. Her gaze flicked to the file on the table,

then the box, then back to the file.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sure. I found that file in Fletcher’s office, hidden in a secret desk

drawer, as if he didn’t want anyone to discover it ever. That file claims

that Deirdre Shaw is Finn’s mother and that she is very much alive.” I

paused, once again having to force out the words. “So tonight I went to Blue

Ridge Cemetery to dig up her grave to see if she was actually buried in it . .

.”

I handed Bria the file, then told her everything that had happened tonight. My

sister stayed quiet through my cold, clipped recitation, absorbing and

analyzing everything I said as she read through Fletcher’s file.

By the time I was finished, she’d gone through all the information. She

studied a recent photo of Deirdre in the file, then leaned down, staring at

the rune Fletcher had inked onto the folder tab, that heart made of jagged

icicles.

Bria frowned and tapped her finger against the symbol. “This might sound

crazy, and it’s certainly not going to make you feel any better, but I’ve

seen that rune somewhere before.”

“Yeah, it was on that letter you found in Pike’s penthouse. The one you gave

to Lorelei Parker, along with the rest of her half brother’s stuff. Lorelei

gave me a copy of it. There was no name on the letter, just that rune. I

recognized the symbol and started digging through Fletcher’s files. That’s

how I found the information on Deirdre.”

Bria shook her head. “No, I’ve seen that rune somewhere else. I thought it

looked familiar when I first saw Pike’s letter. So I did a search in the

police rune databases, trying to figure out where I knew it from. But there

was no mention of anything like it in the databases, so I wasn’t able to

track it down. Still, I know it from somewhere.”

I chewed my lip, trying to think of where Bria might have possibly come across

Deirdre’s rune before, but of course, I didn’t have an answer. She was

right. Her having seen the rune before made me even more uneasy.

“So what’s in the box?” Bria asked. “And why did Fletcher leave it in

Deirdre’s grave?”

“Time to find out.”

I dragged the box to the edge of the table. No locks or latches adorned the

silverstone, but it was still securely sealed. So I palmed a knife and worked

the tip of the blade into the seam that ran between the lid and the rest of

the box. I ran my knife around the entire seam, wiggling the tip back and

forth. It didn’t want to open any more than Deirdre’s casket had, but I

finally managed to split the seam. A loud pop sounded, like when you cracked

open a pickle jar, as though the box had been vacuum-sealed. Maybe it had

been.

I put my knife down, grabbed the lid, and lifted it off the box before setting

it off to one side. Beside me, Bria leaned forward, as curious to see what was

inside as I was.

The answer?

Photos.

Dozens of photos, all of them old, slightly yellow, and faded, with smooth,

worn edges, as though someone—Fletcher—had rubbed his fingers over them time

and time again in thought.

And Deirdre Shaw was in every single one of them.

In the photos, she was young, twenty or so, and quite beautiful, with pale

blue eyes and long golden hair. The first photo showed her in a grassy field,

wearing a blue sundress, with a crown of blue peonies perched on her head, as

though she were a fairy-tale princess. She looked at the camera out of the

corner of her eye, as if she were too shy to enjoy having her picture taken,

although her lips were turned up into a small, satisfied smile.

The next few photos were of Deirdre and Fletcher together, holding hands,

walking through the woods, even sharing a chocolate milkshake at the Pork Pit.

It was obvious that this was in the beginning of their relationship, because

they were staring dreamily into each other’s eyes. They made a lovely couple,

Deirdre slim, blond, and beautiful, Fletcher tall, strong, and handsome, with

his dark brown hair and green eyes.

But as I looked through more of the photos, they slowly started to change.