Destined for an Early Grave(58)

Annette paled.

“They’re using police,” I breathed, my mind whirling with ideas. “I could ask some of my old team to go and check it out. They’re human, and they have higher credentials…but that announces our involvement. It needs to be someone else.”

I grabbed my phone. This was a big favor that might turn out to be a waste of time, but I was asking anyway. After all, weren’t you supposed to be able to count on your family?

“Don,” I said once my uncle answered. “In case you were shopping early for my birthday, I’ve got the perfect gift for you. I’m going to put Spade on the phone, then plug my ears while he tells you where we are. Then, I’m going to ask that you send a plane right away to ferry a ghost to Louisiana. Just get him within a few cities of New Orleans, and he’ll do the rest.”

“Cat?” Don waited a second before responding. “Have you been drinking?”

A brittle laugh escaped me. “I wish.”



I was waiting again. It seemed to be all I could do lately. Spade made a few more calls to mutual acquaintances, trying to glean in a roundabout way if they had information on Bones, but no one had. Short of asking, “Seen Crispin ’round?” it was a painstaking and frustrating process.

Therefore, when a car pulled up, I ran to the window, praying that it was Bones. It wasn’t, and I couldn’t have been more surprised to see who walked up to the house.

Tate, the captain of my former team and my longtime friend, strode into the room and came right up to me like no one else was there. “How could you not have told me any of this?” he demanded.

Both Spade and Vlad were giving Tate hostile looks. Tate might be my friend, but he wasn’t theirs. I pulled his hands away before he was impaled through the heart with silver.

“I didn’t know Bones was missing, I just thought he was pissed.”

Tate made a scornful noise. “Not Crypt Keeper. I don’t give a shit about him. I meant you and the vampire Don just told me has been chasing you for weeks.”

Oh, jeez. Tate was bent that I didn’t tell him about Gregor? As if I needed this on top of everything else.

“Because I’ve hardly seen you since I quit working for Don. Now, are you here to help? Unlike you, I care very much that Bones is missing.”

“He’s not missing,” Tate stated coldly. “He’s just an asshole.”

He was on his feet when he said it, staring up from the ground an instant later. Spade glowered over him. The anger emanating from him made me step between them.

“You’ve made your point.”

“Crispin isn’t here to counter his insults, and I’ll not listen to anyone slander him,” Spade retorted, his hand on a silver knife.

“Your boy isn’t missing,” Tate repeated, getting to his feet. “He’s in the French Quarter like you thought, and if he’s being held against his will, he’s sure making the most of it.”

“What are you talking about?”

Tate gave me a pitying but hard glance and pulled some sheets out of his coat.

“Satellite imagery. I printed it from the computer before I got here, so it’s a little blurry, but there’s no mistaking him. See the time stamp? It’s 11:32 P.M. Central Time last night. Bones looks fine to me.”

Spade and I spread the pictures onto a nearby table. The first one was a shot along Bourbon Street. Not very distinct, but yes, it was Bones. He was walking in the middle of the street. Even with the usual throngs of people, he stood out.

Thank God, was my initial thought.

I flipped to the second image. Bones was in front of his house, if I recognized the structure. And there was a woman in his arms.

A low growl escaped me. I flipped to the next page. The third image had me belting out a curse and almost flinging it at Spade.

“Needed some time to himself, huh? Funny how he doesn’t seem to be doing that alone!”

The last image was only a partial of Bones’s face. He was half inside the gate leading to his door. The same tramp was plastered to him, I could tell from her outfit, and his features were blocked because he was kissing her.

“He’s a cheating prick,” Tate said tonelessly. “He hasn’t emerged from his house since that shot, according to the satellite. I don’t need to tell you that soon we’ll have to point it back where it belongs, Cat. Don’s stretching his authority on this one.”

“Motherfucker,” I spat.

“This doesn’t prove anything,” Spade said, recovering from his astonishment. “We don’t know what’s going on, or who this woman is. She could be a contact and these actions a ruse.”