Hope and Vengeance (Saa Thalarr, book 1): Saa Thalarr, book 1 (4 page)

Kirby Lee's living room was small and untidy. I had no desire to see her kitchen, and when she offered us a beer or soft drinks, we declined. She got a beer for herself and sat drinking and smoking while she answered our questions.

"When did you first know your husband was missing?" I asked her as gently as I could. If I'd been alone, compulsion would be placed and answers gotten quickly, but I had no desire to show that to Anna. I'd be forced to place compulsion on her as well.

"When he didn't bring his sorry ass home the next morning," Kirby Lee answered, taking a drag from her cigarette. This was the second she'd lit since we'd been there. She didn't seem upset that her husband was gone—and to her knowledge, quite possibly dead.

"Did you notify the police then?" Anna joined in.

"Yeah. They said he'd have to be gone more'n twenty-four hours before they started lookin', though." She sipped her beer. "I called 'em again the next day. They finally started to take me serious."

"Did you notify Hartshorne that he wouldn't be in to work?" Anna continued.

"Nope. Never called 'em. And they never called me. The police called and talked to somebody there, though. Then the news channels got ahold of it. I reckon the families of Bill's fishin' buddies talked to 'em."

"The families of Ray Wilson and Sam Greene?" I interjected.

"Yeah. Don't know 'em personally. Bill worked with 'em. Went fishin' with 'em. That's all I know." She finished the beer and rose to shuffle into the kitchen for another, the flip-flops she wore slapping against her heels as she walked.

Anna and I glanced quickly at one another; her eyebrows arched slightly before she turned away. Kirby Lee came back and sat across from us again.

"So, you say they called in sick to go fishing on the ship channel the night they disappeared?" I continued my questioning.

"Well, Bill said they did. They hitched the boat up to Bill's truck and drove off. That's the last I saw of any of 'em." She lit a third cigarette.

"Was Bill doing anything out of the ordinary before he disappeared?" Anna asked.

"Not that I noticed, 'course I didn't see much of him—he was either workin', fishin' or sleepin'."

"Are you employed, Kirby Lee?" I asked her.

"Not for the past six months," she replied. "Worked for a while at the grocery store over by the Fishing Shack. I could walk to work since Bill had the truck. Got into an argument with a nasty customer—got fired for it. Haven't looked for a job since then." She took another swallow of beer.

"So, how are you?" I was unable to finish the question because Anna laid her hand over mine. I'd been about to ask Kirby Lee how she was supporting herself, but Anna's touch stopped me.

"May we take a look at the garage where the boat was kept?" Anna asked instead. I barely managed to cover the confusion I felt at this odd turn.

Kirby Lee sat for a few seconds as if thinking it over, before nodding. "Sure." She led us through the kitchen, which I'd known I didn't want to see, and it was everything I'd imagined it would be—and worse. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink and strewn across every flat surface, and it reeked. I held my breath as we walked through it.

A door led from the kitchen into the attached garage. Kirby Lee flipped the light switch and we stepped down into what surely must have been the cleanest part of the house. Clearly, this was Bill Gordon's domain. Tools hung in neat rows on pegboards fastened to the walls, along with four life jackets and a shop broom. The floor was clean—what I could see of it. A new, red Honda sedan covered most of it.

"Wow. Nice car," Anna admired the automobile.

The compliment loosened Kirby Lee up. She'd tensed noticeably when Anna asked to see the garage. I'd felt a bit of fear from her as she guided us into the garage and wondered at her reaction.

"Yeah. I needed something to get around in."

"Well, you have wonderful taste. Bet it gets great mileage," Anna observed.

Kirby Lee relaxed further. "Sure does. After all this is over, I'm headin' back to Georgia. I figure after this amount of time, Bill's not gonna come back." She didn't sound upset at all.

"What do you think happened to him?" Anna asked the big question.

Kirby Lee stared at her for a few moments before she answered. "Don't know," she said coldly. "Accident, maybe. Could be the body just hasn't washed up yet." She was clearly through with us, and began to herd us into the house. We left shortly afterward. I thanked her for her assistance and let her know that we'd notify her if we found anything. She was opening another beer on the front porch as she watched us drive away.

"I don't think those boys went fishin'," Anna said in a Kirby Lee imitation. She sighed and blinked concerned hazel eyes at me.

I met her gaze briefly, then turned my attention back to the road. I didn't think they had, either, and I told her so. A man who was as fastidious about his boat and tools as Bill Gordon appeared to be wouldn't leave life jackets hanging on a peg in his garage. I also knew that Kirby Lee was correct on at least one point—Bill Gordon wouldn't be coming back. I didn't tell Anna that. There was time enough later for that information.

"I'm going to talk to some of her neighbors—I don't think Bill and Kirby Lee were fond of each other," Anna interrupted my thoughts. "I'll try to do that soon. Where are we going now?" she asked, changing the subject abruptly when I turned west on South Padre Island Drive instead of going east toward her condo.

"To meet a friend."

"Oh."

We drove westward until we reached the exit for the airport, turning off onto a side road before reaching the terminal.

"This is where the private jets are parked," Anna informed me, leaning forward to gaze out her window. She was curious but determined not to push.

"Yes, it is," I confirmed. I almost smiled. Almost.

I pulled to a stop near the hangar where the Council's private jet had landed, and climbed from the truck. Anna hesitated a moment, then exited the SUV as well. I saw Joey in the distance, talking with an airport employee. Probably setting up a date.

Joey was shorter than I, around five-seven, with reddish-blond hair that curled slightly. He kept it short. Nearly everyone found him quite attractive, and he was never without a date unless he wished to be. He turned and saw me, waved in his usual grand manner and then loped toward us. He spread his arms wide and gave me an exuberant hug.

"AAAdam!" he shouted with delight. Joey always greeted me this way. I'd learned long ago to stand still and accept the affection with stoicism.

After Joey completed his usual five-second hug, he turned to Anna. "Well, aren't you the cutest thing!" he gushed.

Anna cut her eyes toward me, then turned back to Joey. I introduced him. "Anna, this is Joey Showalter. Joey, this is Anna Madden." I completed the obligatory.

"Joseph David, it's a pleasure to meet you," Anna held out her hand. I went cold at her words. I hadn't given her Joey's middle name. She knew it anyway. Joey thought nothing of it—I'm sure he imagined I'd given her the information already. Schooling my face into the vampire mask, I resolved not to cringe as I realized this information would be passed to Xavier—against my will.

* * *

"You're vegetarian?" Joey was very curious as we watched Anna consume a salad with walnuts and tiny mandarin oranges later. Joey was the one to ask Anna if she'd eaten—it hadn't crossed my mind. I watched covertly as Joey and Anna talked as if they were old friends. Joey has an easy way with people, and Anna opened up to him quickly.

"Yes. For a long time," Anna speared a tiny orange wedge and ate it with a smile.

"What made you decide to become vegetarian?" Joey asked.

"It was a necessity—I can feel the animal's death if I consume meat," Anna sighed as she lifted a forkful of greens to her mouth.

"Really? Bizarre," Joey breathed, fascinated. "Were you always a psychic?" No doubt, Xavier had briefed Joey before sending him away from London.

"I'm not psychic," Anna set down her fork. Joey's question upset her, and her answer upset me.

"So the ad—all of it is a lie?" Joey sat back in the booth we'd been given at the restaurant. He was disappointed, I could tell, and I wanted to ask why the pretense, when she repeated what she'd said to me the first night we met.

"I'm good with possibilities and absolutes," she said. "Some people might interpret that as psychic. What I have isn't psychic ability. Being psychic isn't an exact science," she added, dropping her gaze to her lap.

"You have an exact science?" Joey leaned forward, intensely curious again.

"As exact as you can get," she sighed. "Adam, I'm ready to go home, now."

"But you haven't finished your salad," Joey tried to convince her to stay and answer more questions. He'd made her uncomfortable, somehow, and her appetite had fled.

"Joey, no more questions. Miss Madden is tired, it's late and you and I have work to do," I cautioned.

Adam, she knew my middle name. I know you didn't tell her
, Joey sent mindspeech. He'd noticed after all, just as I had. I should know better. Joey was a bit of a genius, when all was said and done. He and I had discovered (by accident) that we could mindspeak one another. That talent was a secret we both kept from my sire and the Council. I could only imagine what they might do to both of us if they learned we had the gift and deliberately kept it from them.

According to Council records, Joey's sire, whose original name was Timerius before he changed it, had walked into the sun a year after Joey was made. Joey was now fourteen years old as a vampire and had been under the Council's thumb since Timerius' death. The first time he'd been sent to assist me, I'd grumbled about it, only to learn that Joey wasn't a burden. And we'd stumbled onto the fact we could mindspeak—I'd picked up his broadcasted thoughts quickly. We'd decided to keep the information to ourselves and seldom employed mindspeech.

Anna slid out of the booth with Joey close behind. I followed swiftly as Anna walked toward the door, before recalling I hadn't paid for the meal and drinks. Joey and I had only ordered wine, claiming we weren't hungry. We weren't; both of us had fed earlier. I shouldn't have worried, Anna handed cash to our waitress on the way out. I realized she hadn't let me pay either time we'd gone to a restaurant. Somehow, that bothered me.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Joey apologized when Anna exited the SUV the moment I stopped outside her condo. She hadn't said a word on the drive to Port Aransas.

"I know," Anna hesitated with a sigh. "I have to go." I watched as she walked away from us. Joey and I waited until she'd gone inside the ground-floor entrance.

"I didn't mean to do that," Joey rubbed his forehead as I jerked the SUV into gear and drove away.

* * *

"I'll create a diversion while you slip in and unlock the door." Joey and I were both dressed in dark clothing for our trip to Hartshorne Oil. Roy Cheek, CEO, was our target. Actually, his office and computer were our targets for the evening. Joey could hack into almost anything, and we were going to Hartshorne Oil after a brief stop at the safe house for a change of clothing. Joey was good at providing a slight disturbance while I misted beneath doors or through keyholes. It was easy enough to let him in afterward, to gather needed information.

It didn't take long and the diversion wasn't much—Joey set off a car alarm right outside our targeted building and slipped inside once the security guard left the building to investigate. I'd misted beneath the CEO's office door before coming back to myself and unlocking the door from the inside. Joey was there quickly; I locked the door behind him.

"How unimaginative." Joey found Roy Cheek's passwords on a slip of paper taped to the underside of a desk drawer. "And here I thought it might be a challenge." He was already tapping away on Cheek's desktop computer. I waited patiently as Joey copied files onto a flash drive. "Adam, look at this." He'd found something.

Names, all of them Hispanic in origin, were listed, with a date beside them. "Joey, these dates correspond to those on a list Anna showed me." I knelt beside Joey's chair and examined names that coincided with dates employees had gone missing.

"Here," Joey pulled up another list—this one showing that each date was a date that particular employee was scheduled to be paid.

"They're going missing right before they're scheduled to be paid, probably in cash," I muttered.

"And this is probably why." Joey pointed me to a third file—a personal one, belonging to Roy Cheek. It listed gambling debts, totaling in the hundreds of thousands.

"He's hiring undocumented workers, offering to pay them in cash, getting the work out of them and then conveniently disposing of them, somehow, so he can keep the cash for gambling or paying gambling debts," I pieced it together. "But why would he kill three local residents in the middle of all this? And it still doesn't explain the bite marks or drained blood."

"Do you think the three locals found out about it, somehow?" Joey asked.

"Possibly, but Kirby Lee Gordon swears her husband went night fishing with the other two. Something about this bothers me," I rose from my kneeling position. "Copy all those files, Joey, and we'll look at them when we get to the safe house."