Cat Adams - The Isis Collar

I shivered and huddled in a chair in the corner until it was light. Safety came with the sun.

It felt strange, planning normal things when so much of life was not normal. But I needed something to take my mind off of everything, and I’ve found that good old-fashioned exercise can help a lot. A jog was out of the question. I wasn’t sure what I would find out in the sand. This was something we could do inside the beach house. And I really had promised Dawna.

I looked from Dawna to the woman pushing a laden two-wheel dolly into my living room. Alex was petite and pretty. Normally she dressed very professionally. Today, in honor of our activity she was in worn sweats, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.

“Thanks for doing this, Alex. I was afraid after that scene in the parking garage…”

She snorted. “That was just for show. One of your ‘buddies’ got a promotion. He’s my direct superior now. He’s been making my life hell.”

Ouch. “Sorry.”

“Not your problem. He’s an ass. But I wanted you to know it was a bad idea to come to the station, and you really did need to see Rizzoli.”

“Yeah. I did.”

“Hey, Dawna.” Alex turned to the woman lounging on my couch. “Explain to me again why I’m doing this on my one day off for the past two weeks?”

“Boy,” I said while moving the couch and carpet to the side to give her more room to unload her cargo. “Your schedule sucks worse than mine. You need a better union rep.”

The dirty look she gave me said she was well aware of that. “You’ll need to clear out a bigger space.”

I raised my brows appreciatively and tugged at the couch to pull it farther away from the open space I’d cleared. I closed the drapes so I could take off the sunglasses. “You managed to get the deluxe dummy? Not just the piece of crap from the police storage basement?”

“Turns out I’m three hours short of required staking practice for this quarter. My lieutenant handed me the dolly personally. Hope you don’t mind if I log in my own time on it while I’m here … seeing as this is a big favor.” She untucked the padded mat from behind the dummy and rolled it out on my floor. “Nasty burn in the hardwood. Most people start campfires on the beach.”

At first I thought she was serious, but then I saw a tiny grin. I smiled in response because I knew she remembered just where the burn came from. “Tell that to Bruno. ‘Oh, it’s just a little chalk circle. No big deal.’ Sheesh. Mages and their spells.”

I rolled my eyes and she chuckled before she spoke. “C’mon. Give me a hand with the ballistic gel. It’s hard to get into the slots.”

I joined her at the dolly and lifted up the hunk of amber ballistic gel while she steadied the red plastic mannequin. The squishy cylinder was wobbly like Jell-O, but thicker and more dense. It was developed to mimic flesh for testing weapons involved in crimes, but the cops figured out it worked well for practicing driving stakes into flesh. I whispered to Alex when Dawna went to the kitchen to grab a bottled water. “Dawna’s really going to appreciate this. She needs to start feeling more confident when she’s alone.”

Alex braced herself against the dummy while I shoved the gel into the round slots and pushed until it was firmly against the solid back of the dummy. “So you said in your voice mail. Is there a bat problem in her neighborhood? Should I get a squad out there?”

I shook my head. “Don’t know. It sounds like it might be specific against her—she survived when the master vampire who’d bitten her died. Apparently, some of the other bats seem to think it should have been the other way around. She thinks they might be targeting her.”

Alex nodded. “Reason enough to at least have some basic training and I’ll probably call it in just to be safe. Never hurts to be careful. Bats aren’t very careful about making sure they get the right target the first time, so it’s not just her in danger.”

The staking dummy was loaded and braced, so all that was left was attaching the spelled computer chip. While Alex opened the padded box it was housed in, I tried to ask something casually. “So … about my voice mail. Anything on the other question?” I’d asked her when I called about the dummy if she could check to see if John had showed up on any police reports—good or bad.

She flicked her gaze up for a second. “Sort of. I found three people named John Creede in the Greater L.A. area. John Colton, John Henry, and Jonathan Thomas. Which one is missing?”

The problem was, I didn’t know. “Um. Good question. It’s the John who’s half of Miller and Creede. I don’t know his middle name.”

She looked up at me. “ Really. So, John Colton Creede, then. Hmph. Wouldn’t have figured that.”

That made me frown. “Wouldn’t have figured what ?”

A tiny snort that might have been a laugh, combined with an eye roll, was all she’d give me for a long moment. “ Please. But there’s nothing. I checked out hospitals, morgues, and radio chatter for all three names. There’s no mention of anything involving him. What makes you think he’s missing?”

“No. Explain first. Please what?”

She rose easily to her feet from a crossed-leg position and attached the computer sensor to where a face would be on the mannequin. “Must we really go there?”

I crossed my arms over my chest and tipped my head. “Yeah. I guess we must.”

Alex sighed and stopped what she was doing to turn and mimic my stance. “Fine. John Colton Creede is the millionaire owner of a multinational company that provides protective services for everyone from movie stars to heads of state.” I nodded and she continued. “He’s a level-eight mage who personally protected a diplomatic envoy in the Middle East back in ’08, holding out alone against more than a dozen terrorist mages and witches for better than two days.” Okay, that was news to me, but it sounded like something he’d do. “He’s known to hop in a plane for jaunts to Monte Carlo or to sail down to Mexico for a weekend.” Wow. Didn’t know that at all. “He’s also well known for being late to meetings.” Well, yeah. “But—” She raised a finger significantly. “When he misses two meetings and a phone call in one day, what happens? His staff, his P.A., and even his family don’t call the police in Los Angeles, where he’s known to live—I checked . No. You call me.” She smiled and the calm intensity in her eyes sort of unnerved me. “Sort of odd, don’t you think? Frankly, Celia, if I didn’t know you better, I’d probably be casually searching this house right now while asking to use the restroom. More often than not, it’s the murderer who contacts the police first to establish innocence. And reporting it in an odd location is even more fishy.”

Well, hell.

I opened my mouth to respond, but she just turned back to the dummy and kept talking. “I just can’t decide whether you’re too different or too much alike.”

Dawna snorted and I glared at her. “Alike. Definitely. But ohhh … yeah. You should see the way he looks at her when she’s not watching. Yum. But definitely too much alike. Not … you know, complementary. Type A personalities. Both of them. It probably won’t work.”

It was my turn to snort. I leaned against the wall, feeling the weight of that comment. “Tell me about it. But I always seem to wind up with them.” Alex moved her head in agreement but didn’t speak because it’s not like she hadn’t had the same issue with Vicki. Both very Type A’s. “Maybe it’s because they understand the stress. They feel it, too.”

Alex looked at me and then at Dawna before she smiled. It had sad edges. “Or maybe we’re just masochists.”