So, when her shift was over, she'd go up to the castle, and she'd shift. She'd sniff around. When she found the corpses, she would shift again, and she would call the police. Take that, Officer Trall. If someone called the corpses in, then Mr. Rafiel Trall would have to do something about it, would he not?
And as for Mr. Tom Ormson, she didn't know exactly what was biting him, but she was in no mood to find out, either. It occurred to her that he might have seen Rafiel kiss her. But if that was what had put his nose so severely out of joint, then Tom needed to take a chill pill, that was what he needed to do.
After all, what fault was hers if an idiot male decided to kiss her? She had slapped him for it, too. Half rocked his head off of his shoulders. And if Tom hadn't stuck around to see that, he was more of a fool than she'd ever thought, and she wouldn't mind if he left and never came back.
She avoided him the rest of the shift.
* * *
Edward received the backpack from Tom's hands, and pulled out his wallet to set the bill for the food he and Keith and Rafiel had eaten. He guessed Rafiel wasn't coming back, but he wasn't about to ask Tom. There was absolutely no reason to get the boy even more upset than he already was.
Instead, Edward put the backpack on his back, sure it looked ridiculous with his nice clothes. He got up, and Tom was turning away, putting the bill with the money in his apron pocket. Edward grabbed at his son's shoulder. "Tom." It was as close as he dared come to a hug.
Tom looked back, eyebrows raised.
"I just want you to know," Edward said, "that if you need anything at all . . ." He gave Tom one of his cards. "You probably remember the home address," he said. "But this is the new office address and my cell phone and work phone. Call. Anytime. Day or night, okay?"
Tom nodded, but there was just that look of dubiousness in his eyes that made Edward wonder if he would really call. Or just get into trouble and not tell anyone.
He walked out of the diner, and out into the cooler, exhaust-filled night of Fairfax Avenue. Under the light pole, he noticed that Keith was behind him.
"Can I come with you?" Keith asked. "To deliver that?"
Edward took a deep breath. "I don't think so," he said. "I'm going to deliver it in person, you see, not put it down somewhere and wait for them to find it. I'm afraid they'll go after Tom again if I do that."
"So . . ."
"So the triads are dangerous. And the Great Sky Dragon is not someone—or something—one tangles with for sport. I think I'm fairly safe, because they depend on me for legal representation. But I don't think you'd be safe and I can't allow you to risk yourself."
"But . . ." Keith said. "I can take out dragons. With a tire iron."
Edward couldn't avoid smiling at that. "I know," he said. "And I'm proud to have met you. But I really think this is something I have to do alone."
Keith took a deep breath, and shrugged. Then frowned. "You're not going to allow me to, are you? No matter what I say?"
"I'm afraid not," Edward said. "I'm afraid it wouldn't be safe."
"Okay. Then . . . I'll stay and keep an eye on Kyrie and see in what direction Tom leaves, okay? I'll tell you. When I see you."
Edward nodded, and put out his hand, solemnly. Keith shook it just as solemnly.
Add to the things Tom had accomplished the fact that he seemed to make worthy friends. And that was something that Edward had never expected of Tom. But he was glad. He started walking up the street, to where Fairfax became a little better area. It would make it easier to hail a cab. Once he caught a cab, he would call Lung.
If he didn't give them much time to react, perhaps they wouldn't have time to summon the Great Sky Dragon. Edward wasn't sure he could face that presence.
In fact, he wasn't sure at all he would survive this experience. Despite everything he'd told Keith, he was sure that the triad could buy a replacement lawyer, once they got rid of him.
The funny thing was that he didn't much care if anything happened to him, provided nothing happened to Tom. He'd never got around to changing his will, and if he died, at least Tom would be taken care of. It wasn't like he'd ever been much of a father.
* * *
Kyrie hung up her apron and picked up her purse. It hit her, suddenly, and with a certainty she'd never felt before that whatever happened tonight was decisive.
Because, if she went to the castle and found nothing, she'd have to live in hiding. Perhaps move. Because she couldn't know what the beetles knew or where they were.
On the other hand, if she went up there tonight and found corpses . . . well, it might be the last time she hung her apron on this peg and headed out, at the end of the shift, into the Colorado morning with the sky just turning pink, Fairfax Avenue as deserted as a country lane, and everything clean and still.