Personal Demon
Page 86

When I called Paige, she sounded so exhausted I was sure she hadn’t gotten to bed. Instead of her inviting me to breakfast, I offered to bring her one. But she brushed me off with thanks.
I aimed a glower at Karl, who could overhear Paige and had the grace to look mildly chagrined.
I told Paige who her victim was, and that I could only give a surname and sketchy bio.
“The tech guy, huh?” she murmured. “That makes sense. He had a lot of gear on him.”
“Did the Cabal shoot him?” I tried to keep the accusation out of my voice. Wasn’t sure I succeeded.
“I don’t think so. We caught him in an alley and we were just about to get information from him.
Obviously someone didn’t want to take that chance.”
“Someone from the gang?”
“We presume so.”
I doubted it. Guy would trust Rodriguez to keep his mouth shut at least long enough for a rescue attempt.
More likely it had been a Cabal sniper who didn’t dare admit his mistake to Lucas. If it had been the gang, they’d been aiming for whoever was holding Rodriguez.
I didn’t argue, though. The truth would come out. The Cabals might kill one of their own to keep him from talking, but I was sure the gang wouldn’t.
“There’s something else we were hoping you could help with,” Paige said. “You may have heard the gang mention an off-site place where they keep supplies and such?”
“Yes, but I don’t have any idea where it is.”
“The Cabal has the address. It’s a warehouse unit. We’ve had a team staking it out since three. At around four, two young men went inside. They haven’t come out. We presume it’s a rendezvous point and the others were already in there.”
 
Others? With Rodriguez dead, there were only three members left.
“What about Jaz and Sonny? Have you found out anything? Is the Cabal still claiming they aren’t responsible?”
A pause.
My heart hammered. “You’ve found them? Their bodies?”
“No, but Lucas is certain the Cabal isn’t behind this. With everything that’s happened, Benicio would come clean, if only because it could help solve the case. Lucas is—” A buzz of the phone, as if she was moving. “He’s beginning to suspect they were never abducted.”
“What?”
“I’ll explain later. About the warehouse, though. Lucas wants to go in within the hour, and we thought you might want to be there just to, you know, negotiate. If things don’t go as hoped, Lucas really doesn’t want this to end badly.”
That was her politic way of saying they feared if the gang resisted, the roust could turn into a massacre.
“We’ll be there.”
 
HOPE: PARTY TIME
 
 
Karl picked the lock of the unit adjacent to the one rented by the gang. Snipers covered us from the neighboring building. I knew that was supposed to make us feel safe, but it didn’t, any more than the Kevlar vest I wore or the panic button in my pocket.
The door opened in to a cavernous, dark room filled with carpet rolls. I turned on my flashlight and we picked our way over the rolls to the far side of the room. Karl pressed himself against the wall shared with the gang’s unit, listening. I knew what I should be doing—“listening” for chaos vibes or visions. But I was still raw from the night before, and spent the first couple of minutes just standing there, clenching the flashlight, braced against visions. When not so much as a stray chaos vibe pinged, I relaxed.
I glanced at Karl. He shook his head. No sounds from the unit either.
I took out my cell and called Guy. No one answered. Karl couldn’t hear the ring from the adjoining unit. I hung up and tried Max. No answer. Same with Tony.
I left a voice mail message for Tony, asking where they were and what was happening. I could see them not answering my call—they had no idea whether I’d been kidnapped or had betrayed them, and if Guy wasn’t there, they might not risk picking up. But they’d certainly discuss it or comment on it, and probably check the voice message. Still Karl heard nothing.
We went outside to find Lucas.
 
TEN MINUTES LATER, Karl was picking another lock—the door into the gang unit. This time he had not only snipers but two members of the SWAT team flanking him, one pressed against either side of the doorway.
Karl sampled the air, then checked with me. No chaos vibes either. The officers followed us inside.
This unit was divided into three sections—two rooms with closed doors plus a large open storage area. The officers passed us and swept the open area, then retreated to check the closed rooms. The first held two cots, a microwave and a minifridge—a place to hole up if needed. The room was empty.
One officer opened the second door, and they swung in. A grunt. Then a wave, telling us it was safe. It was not, however, empty. Max and Tony were passed out drunk at a dining table, a bottle of Glenlivet single-malt Scotch within reach.
I bent to read a note that had slid to the floor.
 
Party Time!
Yeah, it’s the good stuff this time.
Guy
 
 
I whispered, “So what do we do?”
Karl’s hand closed on my arm, and I thought he was telling me to be quieter. But he tugged me back and I realized he didn’t want me getting too close. Smart—I didn’t want to be within arm’s reach if the guys woke up.
I turned to say something to Karl, then saw his expression and, at the same time, over his shoulder, Tony’s.
He lay on the table, arms askew, but his eyes were half open. Empty eyes…
I reached to grab his shoulder. An officer stopped me.
“D-dead?” I managed.
My gaze shot to Max. His head lay on his folded arms, face hidden. But his body was still.
No, it couldn’t be. If they were dead, I’d feel it. I’d see their deaths. Nothing chaotic could have happened—
I saw the bottle again and flashed back to the night before. To the guard inside the house, looking as if he had just passed out, coffee cup by his hand. I hadn’t felt so much as a twinge from his death. Because it had been unchaotic. Dead before he realized what was happening.
Karl leaned over the open bottle, being careful not to touch it, sniffed and nodded. One of the officers lifted his radio to his lips.