“A rock band? Like Diamond Jack.”
“No. It wasn’t that kind of band. It was about true blue school pride and winning competitions and trying to keep Heidi from killing Ben.”
“Did she?” Perry asked, simply because she had no idea what else to say, and his trip down memory lane intrigued her.
“She did whack him upside the jaw one time with a bicycle chain.”
“Ouch. What did he do to deserve that?”
“He offered to help her pay for college.”
“And these are people you call friends?”
“They’re the best.” He laughed, laced his hands over his flat belly, closed his eyes and smiled. “They’ve been married now about six years, I guess.”
She heard a tinge of envy in the affection with which he spoke. “Do you still see them?”
“When I can, sure. They live outside of Austin. My friend Quentin took all those blue ribbons we earned in competition and parlayed them into a nice career as a record producer. Randy’s the only one of the bunch I haven’t seen for a while.”
Perry sighed. Hearing Jack talk about his friends made her realize how few she really had. At least, friends she would call close. She did have Claire as well as Chloe, Josie, Tally and Bree—all neighbors, and girlfriends she could count on for anything.
But she’d spent so much of her time for so many years running Sugar Blues for Della that she hadn’t even developed those relationships as fully as she would have liked.
Maybe with the year so new, the time was right to change all of that. To step outside the safe little world she’d built for herself with her aunt, and experience more of life.
“What’re you thinking about over there?”
She was not going to tell him…at least not right now. “Thinking that you were lucky in your friends.”
“You didn’t have any?”
“Not really.” And how pitiful was that? “I think I scared everyone, first with my parents dying, then living with Della. I guess they thought I could read their minds or something. Whatever, they kept their distance.”
“Well, you’ll have to meet my bunch if you ever get to Austin.”
She was saved having to digest what his offer meant by Book’s car coming toward them. She pulled on her gloves and opened the door, letting in a whoosh of brisk air.
10
USING SUGAR’S gnarled walking stick, which Book retrieved from the attic after Perry’s call, Della made her way from his car to the warehouse. The place had not been occupied since Eckton Computing had moved, yet appeared less unkempt than its neighbors.
Whether or not the condition of the property held any significance, she couldn’t say. So far, she hadn’t picked up but a flash or two of color. No heat. No sound. Nothing.
Facing the front of the structure, the cold wind whipping the ends of her scarf, she stared at the windows set high overhead that ran the length of the wall.
They looked out over the river, and she knew without going inside that a catwalk sat beneath. She also knew that Jack wouldn’t find Dayton Eckhardt today.
He’d been here, though; she couldn’t tell how recently, and since this building had once housed his firm’s shipping, production and assembly departments, it wasn’t exactly news that she sensed remnants of his energy.
She would need to get closer, to go inside…
“Is there any reason we can’t go in?” she heard Jack ask of Book.
She glanced over, saw Book shrug. “As long as you don’t bust out a window or take down a door, go ahead.”
Della started toward the entrance on the far right, knowing when Jack reached it he’d find it unlocked. He did, turning the handle and pushing the door open, glancing in her direction with the air of a man holding an ace up his sleeve.
Della held back, not quite ready to enter, now that a sharp ice pick sensation had begun stabbing behind her right ear. “They’ve been here. They didn’t see any reason to secure the place when they left.”
“How long ago? Can you tell?” Book asked beside her as she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.
“I don’t think but a few hours.” She shook her head, narrowed her eyes. “I should be able to get a better sense once I’m inside.”
“Do you think you should go in?” Perry asked, coming close to brush strands of hair, that had escaped the scarf, from Della’s face. “You’re so pale. Is it your foot?”
“No, my foot’s fine. It’s just…” Her shoes scraped over loose gravel as she hobbled closer to the door. “I haven’t picked up spikes of anything for over forty-eight hours. I don’t know what’s different now unless—”
Black, everywhere black. A bolt of red, another of white. Lightning without thunder. Ripping through the sky. Water rushing madly.
A flood. Yellow rain. Drowning. Gasps of breath in bright orange. Rust and mud. The earth bubbling and swirling. Nowhere to hold on.
She groaned, stumbled back. Book caught her, and then Perry was there. “Della, sweetie? Can you hear me?”
It hurt to move her head. She tucked her forehead into Book’s chest to hide from the knifelike pain. “Please. I need to go home. Take me home.”
Cursing harshly beneath his breath, Book scooped her up in his arms and headed for the car. She kept her eyes closed, her head buried in the folds of his jacket.
His warmth soothed her, as did his scent, but she couldn’t process any of what she’d seen. Not without the darkness of her room, her medication, and hours to sleep.
“I’ll ride with you,” Perry said, as Book settled Della into the front seat.
No. Her niece had to stay. That much she knew. Of that she was certain.
She reached out, grabbed Perry’s wrist and squeezed. “No, Perry. You stay with Jack. He needs you.”
“I’M SORRY. Really. That’s the last thing I wanted to happen,” Jack said, wondering if he could possibly feel worse.
Whatever he believed or didn’t believe about Della Brazille’s gift, he sure as hell would never have asked her to come here if he’d thought it would make her sick.
“I don’t think she expected it.” Perry rubbed at her wrist, a frown on her face as she watched Book drive away. The detective hadn’t looked too happy with Jack—or with Perry, either.
After getting Della situated, Book had given his business card to Jack and taken him aside, ordering him to call if he found anything, and not to touch whatever he did.
Jack wasn’t stupid. He was, in fact, as much a professional as the other man. But he’d let the detective have his say and had kept his resentment to a simmer.
Figuring out the reason for Book’s barely veiled threat hadn’t required a PhD. Had Jack been in the other man’s shoes, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have punctuated his directive with a fist.
Then again, that was something he’d never know, seeing how his woman wasn’t the one hurting. He turned to Perry. She looked strange. Strained.
And he had to remind himself that she wasn’t his woman. “You could have gone with them. You didn’t have to stay.”
“Yes, I did,” was all she said before facing him, her cheeks apple red from the wind. “So? What are you waiting for?”
Nothing, he supposed. Except something about Della’s reaction had him wondering if he shouldn’t do this solo while Perry waited outside. If anything happened to her…
Cursing under his breath, he pulled a flashlight from his pocket and switched it on, making sure the one he’d given Perry worked as well. “You can wait in the truck if you want to. You don’t have to come with me.”
“Actually, I do.” She swiped at her hair with gloved hands. “I’m under strict orders.”
To do what? Babysit? “Orders from who?”
“Della.”
He let that sink in, and decided he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. Still, whatever she’d seen, she obviously wouldn’t have told Perry to stay if doing so would put her in danger.
“Okay, then. Let’s do it,” he said, and pushed through the door.
Perry followed. “I’m surprised Book didn’t want you to wait until he could get back.”
With Della ordering Perry to stay, Jack doubted Book would be budging from Della’s side until this crisis had passed. “I’m pretty sure he thinks this is a wild-goose chase.”
“Even with what Della has seen?”
“She hasn’t pinpointed a location. Hell, she hasn’t even seen any chickens. Her visions could be of Timbuktu, for all we know.”
They certainly weren’t of this place—not if they were flashes of colors and light like Perry had described. The warehouse was nothing but a cold, bleak cavern. Concrete floors and cinderblock walls in matching shades of gray.
Dust motes danced in the trace of dead light drifting down from the dirty windows. A staircase on the right rose to a catwalk built against all four walls, and a row of upstairs offices at the rear of the structure.
“I can see why Book didn’t stick around,” Perry said from Jack’s side.
But Jack hadn’t been interested in the detective. His own research had told him the warehouse was empty. What he’d wanted to find out was whether or not there was anything here that couldn’t be seen.