I leaned a little forward. “Did you ever wonder why he’d have you pick him up in all these different places?”
Sam gave me a bland look. “Didn’t care. He paid. I have a nice apartment, plenty of free time. Who cares where he has me pick him up?”
“I’m more interested in where you drop him off,” I said. “Tell me about where he goes.”
Sam shifted uncomfortably, but again he answered readily. “Houses mostly. High end, up in the hills above Santa Fe. Or down into Phoenix. There’s a building downtown there he hangs out in, near the ballpark. I usually duck into Alice Cooperstown for a beer while I wait for him. I like their quesadillas.”
Again, everything was said in an even tone, without concern. He didn’t seem to mind that he was imparting Emmett’s secrets.
But then, maybe Emmett didn’t consider these secrets. I imagined any witnesses to his truly covert activities met abrupt ends. Emmett probably hired the chauffeur and bodyguards for business activities that were perfectly legit.
Sam was sweating. It wasn’t that warm in the interview room. Kind of cool, actually. Perspiration trickled down the man’s thick neck, though his face was a bit gray.
“Mick,” I said. “I think he’s been spelled.”
Mick looked nonchalant against the door, but I could tell he was keeping a close eye on Sam. “I think you’re right.”
Sam’s sweat trickled faster but he said nothing.
Lopez sent me a puzzled look. “Spelled how?” He didn’t sound surprised that we mentioned magic, but he’d lived in Magellan all his life. Spells and magic were real here.
Mick studied Sam with clinical attention. “Compulsion spell, probably. To tell us anything we want to know, whether he likes it or not. That means Smith wants us to know these things, or doesn’t care. Which means we will get nothing useful out of him.”
“I don’t know,” I mused. “We know Emmett visits people in high-priced houses and an office in the heart of downtown Phoenix. I haven’t been there enough to know much about the city, but I noticed a lot of high-rent bank buildings and other stuff down there. So he’s visiting people with money.”
“He owns the building in Phoenix,” Sam said before he could stop himself. “Second Ave and Adams. A couple of resorts in Scottsdale too. And houses in Santa Fe.”
“Do you know what he does in any of these places?” I asked.
Sam looked relieved. “No, I don’t. He goes in. I wait. Like I said, I like Cooperstown though I’ll grab fast food if he’s not going to be long. There’s a lady I visit if he’s going to stay all night …”
I held up my hand. “That’s all right. Don’t need to know.”
“Her name is Maria Harding. She has a place on 24th Street, around Camelback, a pretty nice condo. Her husband’s a total bastard, but he’s always out of town …”
Sam struggled to shut his mouth. I wanted him to before he spilled details about what he and Maria got up to in the master bedroom of her nice condo.
“Mick, can you do anything?”
Mick came to stand behind Sam and placed his big hands on the man’s shoulders. “Just relax.”
Sam shivered, hard, sweat filming his skin. Under Mick’s touch, he began to quiet. Mick must be using a little healing magic, or some dragon juju to counteract Emmett’s spell.
Then Sam’s body jerked and went perfectly straight, rigid across the seat and back of the chair. His face turned from white to a bright shade of puce, and he screamed, a terrible scream. As Lopez and I watched, openmouthed, his skin began to smoke.
“Mick, stop!” I cried.
Mick started to pull his hands away, then frowned and jerked at them. His eyes widened as his fingers began to fuse to Sam’s shirt.
I lunged for Mick, ready to yank his hands away, but Mick danced back. “No—don’t touch me.” His voice was far too calm. “Lopez, take Janet out. I mean out of the building. Everyone else in it too.”
“Mick …” I stared in horror, Mick’s hands were melting, becoming one with Sam’s flesh.
“Go!” he said. “Hurry.”
There was only one way Mick could deal with this, I realized. I grabbed on to Lopez and started tugging him out the door. “Come on. We need to get the prisoners out. Fast.”
The dragon tatts on Mick’s arms started to flow around and around, their eyes bursting with red flame. Mick’s fingers elongated and grew down into Sam, who was screaming in a high, shrill keen.
“I can’t leave them in here,” Lopez protested. It was his duty to make sure the prisoners were okay. I imagined Nash was pretty insistent about that.