Wickedly Dangerous (18 page)

“It's got to be more than that,” Baba said, drumming her fingers louder until Chudo-Yudo gave her leg a gentle—or not so gentle—nip. “What does Callahan have that she would want?”

Liam tried to make his tired brain do something more useful than spin in circles, or babble quietly to itself about Baba's dark hair, floating enticingly across the table from him, just out of reach.

“Well, Callahan has been in the area for the last two years,” he said, thinking out loud. “Doing lots of in-depth research on the community to find the best places to drill and the people who might be the most open to selling their land to his company. He's undoubtedly amassed a huge amount of information. Could there be something in there that she's using?”

Baba raised an eyebrow. “Huh. I hadn't thought of that. Maybe, although I'm not sure what or how.” The tapping fingers stilled, wrapped themselves around a sword hilt instead. “I guess we're going to have to take a look inside that office.”

“Oh, no,” Liam protested. Why did all of these people's suggestions seem to involve committing some kind of crime? “You are not going to break into Peter Callahan's office.”

He didn't like the sparkle that had suddenly entered her amber eyes. “Seriously. No. Isn't there some way you can er . . . magically . . . get information out of Callahan's computers, maybe?”

Baba shook her head, a grin materializing out of what had been grim discouragement. “Sorry, not possible. Magic and technology don't mix.”

He looked around at the Airstream they were sitting in. “What about all this?” he asked. “There's plenty of technology here.”

“Not so much as you'd think,” Baba said. “This whole place started out as a wooden hut on chicken legs. It voluntarily changed its form, and the more it is perceived as real, the more real it becomes. But most of what you see is still illusion.” She shrugged. “But illusion isn't going to help us now—we need facts. And I suspect we're going to have to get them the old-fashioned way.”

Her grin widened, making his pulse beat faster.

“So, Sheriff,” she said. “How do you feel about a life of crime?”

THE MOON POKED
its head out from behind a cloud and leered at them as they crouched outside a window at the rear of Peter Callahan's office. It was somewhere around two in the morning and the neighborhood was silent, all its law-abiding citizens tucked safely into their beds.

“I don't understand why the Riders aren't doing this,” Liam hissed in Baba's ear.

She suppressed an involuntary shudder when his warm breath caressed her neck, and told herself it was just nerves. Except, of course, that she didn't get nerves.

“They're the brawn, not the brains,” she whispered back. “They wouldn't know what to look for. And can you see Alexei tiptoeing around inside? We'd be better off sending Chudo-Yudo. Or a parade of elephants in army boots.”

She gave the sheriff a sidelong look. He'd changed into civilian clothes; dark jeans and dark long-sleeved tee shirt, which had the unfortunate effect of making him even more attractive than usual. One lock of dark-blond hair had fallen into his eyes again, and she had to resist the impulse to brush it away.
Focus, Baba. Focus.

“A better question,” she added, “might be “why are you here?” I was just kidding when I suggested you take up a life of crime, you know.”

“I know,” he said shortly, examining the wires he could see lining the windowsill.

“You're the sheriff,” she persisted. “You're supposed to uphold the law, not break it. You should have stayed home. Or at least back at the Airstream.”

He shrugged minutely, the barest ripple of muscles along his broad back. “I know this area and the people a lot better than you do. There's not much point in breaking in to look at information if you don't have the knowledge to make sense of what you're seeing.”

“But still—” It was bad enough that most of the folks she'd befriended in her short time here now thought she was some kind of evil witch. She didn't want to destroy Liam's career too.

Liam swiveled on his heels, turning so he could look her in the eye. For a moment, their faces were so close, she thought he might kiss her.

But instead he said, “Baba, they're going to fire me at the end of the month anyway if I can't find out who's doing this. So I don't have much to lose. Besides, finding those kids is more important than anything else. If this is the only way to accomplish that goal, then I'm in.”

Baba's heart skipped a beat. “They what?” For a moment, a red fog obscured the building in front of them, and she wanted to find Clive Matthews and beat him into a pulp for threatening the thing Liam held most dear. She took a deep breath. “They're fools, then.” Amber eyes met hazel ones. “Why didn't you tell me?”

Liam raised an eyebrow, barely visible in the diffuse light from the distant streetlamps and the moon overhead. “I didn't think you'd care.”

She bit her lip. She didn't care. Of course she didn't care. It had nothing to do with her. She was here to do a job, and then she'd be moving on
.
“Right,” she said.

“Besides,” Liam added with a mischievous grin, “if we're caught, I'm going to say I spied you sneaking in and followed you. Then I'm going to arrest you, and throw you in jail. I'll be a hero.”

Baba looked at him, startled. She thought he was kidding . . . but she really wasn't sure. Hopefully, she wouldn't find out the hard way.

*   *   *

LIAM TRIED TO
keep a straight face, but it was difficult. Baba had been throwing him off-balance since the day he'd met her; it was something of a treat to be able to return the favor for once. Sooty lashes fluttered over wide eyes as she tried to figure out whether or not to believe him. If it weren't for the serious nature of their task, he would almost say he was having fun.

“Instead of worrying about which one of us is going to jail tonight,” he said finally, “maybe we should worry about how on earth we're going to get past this alarm system. It's pretty sophisticated.”

Baba snorted through her long nose and waved a slim hand through the air as if drawing a figure eight. “What alarm system?” she asked.

Liam pointed at the windowsill, then dropped his finger in amazement at the sight of melted wires, dripping down the side of the building like tar on a hot summer's day. He was vaguely aware that his mouth hung open as he turned to Baba.

“Did you do that?” he asked, knowing as he did that there was no other explanation. “I thought you said magic and technology don't mix.”

She inclined her head in the direction of the wires as she slowly moved the window upward on silent tracks. “I'd say that's a pretty good example of not mixing.” She gave a tiny laugh, almost as noiseless as the sliding glass. “Trying to make technology work with magic is hard. Trying to make it
not work
, now that's another story.”

He tried not to stare at Baba's perfect butt as she lifted herself up and slithered in over the sill. Her attire was a match for his, with the addition of the black leather jacket she wore, since she'd ridden over on her battered BMW. He couldn't believe she wasn't sweating in the summer evening's heat, but she seemed as icily cool as ever. He, on the other hand, could feel a bead of sweat trickle down his back, sticking his shirt to his skin. Of course, that might be the company as much as the warm weather. Something about this frustrating, mysterious woman just set his blood on fire.

“Are you coming, or are you going to stand out there all night admiring the stars?” Baba hissed from inside the building, startling him out of his reverie.

“Right behind you,” Liam growled, and committed his first-ever felony by following her into the building.

They'd at least found the right room. A dim light from Baba's hand shone on a massive walnut desk covered with electronics and neat stacks of paper, and then moved across the space to briefly illuminate walls covered with maps and charts, and rows of filing cabinets. Boring beige curtains hung over off-white shades. A lone plastic plant tried in vain to bring some life to the otherwise sterile room. It failed.

“Be careful not to shine your flashlight near the windows,” Liam warned. “We catch thieves that way all the time. Just because we're at the back of the building doesn't mean some insomniac neighbor won't see something suspicious and call the police.”

Baba lifted an elegant eyebrow. “I don't have a flashlight,” she said, holding up her hand to show him the muted glow coming from the center of her palm. “This shouldn't be visible by anyone other than the two of us.”

“More magic,” he said, swallowing hard. He was
never
going to get used to this. “Handy.”

Baba snorted quietly. “Puns during a break-in. You are a constant source of amazement to me, Sheriff McClellan.”

Right back atcha, lady. Squared.
Liam eyed the computer on the desk. “Think there is any point in turning this thing on?” he asked, mostly rhetorically. “You don't have some voodoo that can get you his password, do you?”

She shook her head. “Nope, sorry.” The light lingered on a section of wall with what looked like a huge map of the county. “But come over here and look at this. I'm guessing it's important, but I'm not sure what the heck it means.”

Liam stood behind her, close enough to feel the heat from her body, like magnetic north's tug on a compass needle. The map she was looking at was covered with pushpins, maybe as many as two hundred of them, some crowded close together and others spread well apart. The pins were in four different colors: red, blue, yellow, and green.

“Huh,” he said. “That's interesting.” He pointed to a three-by-five card with notes in a precise hand, delineating the meaning of each color. The card was taped to the wall under the map. “I love organized people. This says that red stands for ‘Yes—lease signed,' blue stands for ‘Definite no,' yellow is ‘No—but persuadable,' and green means ‘No—but vulnerable.'”

“What do those mean?” Baba asked, a wrinkle creasing the skin between her brows. “I understand the lease-signed ones, and the definite no's, but what about the other two? The yellow and green pins?”

Liam took her glowing hand, not without some trepidation, and aimed the light downward toward the file cabinets underneath the map. The drawers were as neatly labeled as the chart above, and he pulled open the one with a large red dot on it first. He got a sinking feeling as he perused the names on the folders within.

“Shit,” he whispered, sliding the drawer shut again.

“What's the matter?” Baba asked, glancing around with concern. “Did you hear something?”

He shook his head, then had to push his damned hair out of his face again. “No, nothing like that,” he said. “I didn't expect to see that so many of the folks who've signed drilling leases live near me. Truth is, according to these, my property is pretty much surrounded. If the county votes down the drilling moratorium, I'm screwed.”

He was a little surprised to realize how much he cared. He never talked about it to anyone. Most days, he even managed not to think about it for whole hours at a time. The house had mostly been just a place to sleep and occasionally eat since the baby died and Melissa left. If you'd asked him yesterday, he would have said it could burn to the ground for all he cared. Apparently, that wasn't quite true. He ground his teeth together, thinking this was a damned inconvenient time for his heart to finally come back to life again.

Baba's slender hand rested gently on his shoulder for a moment. “Sorry,” she said. “Hopefully we'll find something to stop them.”

Liam nodded wordlessly and opened the next drawer. There weren't quite as many files with blue tags on them, but there were enough to be heartening. His own name was written clearly on a label that sat between Landry, Frank and Meadows, Charles and Felicia. He'd said “no” loud and clear from the first time one of Callahan's flunkies had come knocking on the door. In fact, it was distinctly possible he'd said, “HELL, no.”

The yellow-tagged drawer was next, and it was considerably more revealing. Liam cursed under his breath.

“What?” Baba asked. “More people who own property near yours?”

“Worse,” he said through clenched teeth. “These are folks who want to say no, but Callahan has found ways that he thinks they can be persuaded.” He pointed at a file labeled “Johnson, Clara.”

“See this one? Clara is a widow, whose husband died suddenly last year with no life insurance and a pile of debt. It says here that her kids are pressuring her to sell and move into a nursing home.” He flicked another file open. “This one is the Mulligans. They're in the middle of an ugly divorce. Callahan has apparently convinced the husband to sign the lease, and is helping him out with an expensive lawyer so he can get an advantage in the court battle.”

“Nasty,” Baba said, looking more disgusted than shocked. “Are they all like that, the yellow ones?”

Liam riffled through a few more. “Pretty much, although some are more sneaky than vicious. Here's one where a couple wants to retire to a warmer climate. Callahan apparently paid their real estate agent to convince them that their property will be worth more with a signed drilling lease in place.” He shoved the drawer shut, stopping it from slamming at the last minute. “But the files all look like they're full of actions that are at the very least morally repugnant, if not out-and-out illegal.”

Baba's eyes got that odd fierce glow, as if they'd been lit from within. Liam tried to tell himself that it was just a reflection from her magical light, and not a sign that she was thinking of ripping certain people apart with her bare hands. Then he tried to convince himself he thought that would be a bad thing. He wasn't notably successful in either case.

Truth be told, he was having a hard time reining in his own temper. The more deeply they delved into Callahan's dirty dealings, the harder it was to remember that he was supposed to uphold the law, no matter what his own personal feelings in the matter. And he had a sinking feeling that the remaining drawer was going to make that even more difficult. The sound of his own harsh breathing echoed in his ears like a dirge as he tugged open the green dotted drawer.

“Huh,” he said, a few minutes later. “That's curious.” He hadn't known exactly what to expect, but what he'd found hadn't even been on the list.

Baba peered over his shoulder as he knelt in front of the low drawer. “Hey,” she said with surprise, “I recognize a few of these names.” She pointed one slim finger at a file. “Look, there's Belinda. And isn't that one of the other families whose child went missing?”

Liam could feel his face set into grim lines as his heart clenched. “They're all in there, Barbara. Maybe that's a coincidence, but if so, it's a pretty big one.”

“Well, their names could have been added to the ‘vulnerable' list after the disappearances,” Baba said, voice uncertain. “There's no proof that says otherwise.”

“That's true,” Liam agreed reluctantly. “On the other hand, I've been inundated lately with calls from folks who've been experiencing weird issues and problems—sabotage of farm equipment, vanishing workers, strange plagues of mice and snakes—and every single one of those people has a file in this drawer. That can't possibly be a fluke.”

Baba slitted her eyes, and the light in her palm flickered for a moment from pale white to bloody red before she let out a hissing breath and it returned to what passed as normal for a magical glowing light. “No. No, it isn't. That's Maya's handiwork; I'm sure of it.”

“But we still don't have any way to prove it,” Liam said, frustration tensing his shoulders and clenching his jaw. “We need more time to look at these files, but I don't dare take them. The last thing we want to do is tip Maya off that we're on to her.”