Page 64 of Shield of Fire

Once I started crying, I might not be able to stop.

I took a deep, quivering breath, and pushed away the regret and inner anger. Short of asking a clairvoyant to contact his soul, any answers he might have given were now out of reach. Better to concentrate on the shield search and the answers we did have. Although in truth, half a name didn’t really help us all that much. But whoever he was, he held enough power to order a hit on the man who’d been the organization’s trusted bookkeeper for a very long time.

Hell, this Tyr might even be the man I’d heard in my visions a few times.

But if he had ordered Loudon’s death, why hadn’t he done so after Mom’s visit? Why do it now, after mine? From what Jaikyl had said, he’d already destroyed the relevant files, so even if I had been able to wrangle a way into his vault, I wouldn’t have found much.

Jaikyl... fuck.

If Ka-hal had followed me here rather than Gannon, then he very likely knew I’d been to Margaret’s.

I reclaimed his phone from my pocket, unobtrusively pressed his finger against the scanner, then went through his contacts list until I found Margaret’s number.

The call rang out. I left a message, then doubled up, copying her number onto my phone to send a text message.

I shivered, hoping for the best but fearing the worst.

I went back into Gannon’s phone and reset the pin and fingerprint scanner, then returned it to my pocket as the sharp sound of sirens drew closer.

They were too late to save Gannon.

Maybe even too late for Margaret and Jaikyl.

I hoped not. Hoped that the traffic remained bad, and that Ka-hal hadn’t gotten there yet.

An ambulance pulled to a sharp stop several yards from us, its red and blue lights washing eerily through the darkness. As the crew climbed out, I grabbed my purse and pushed back to sit on the pavement, hugging my knees and watching as they ran over and did their best to revive Gannon.

A cop car pulled up a few seconds later. A small, stout woman with short blonde hair walked toward me while her partner began putting up tape and cones.

“I take it you saw the accident?” the woman asked.

“It wasn’t an accident. It was deliberate.”

She raised her eyebrow and took out her phone. “What makes you believe that?”

I waited until she’d begun recording. “The fact the driver sped around the corner and accelerated toward Gannon. He didn’t try to stop, he didn’t try to swerve, he didn’t even blast his horn.”

“I take it you knew the victim?”

“I knew his first name and his address. I came here to talk to him.”

“About what?”

“A scroll he and his partner purchased a few days ago.” I squinted up at her. “I took a pic of the van as it drove past. I daresay it’s blurry, but you should be able to clean it up enough to get the plate number.”

She nodded. “And the driver? Did you see him?”

I nodded and gave her a description. I didn’t mention his name. I didn’t want to get bogged down with a multitude of questions about how I knew that and what my relationship was with him.

“Did anyone else witness the event?”

“There’s an old couple in the building behind me who came out when the hit-and-run happened—the gentleman placed the call—but I don’t know how much they saw.”

She took my name and contact details and asked me to send her the photo. When I had, she added they’d be in contact if they needed further information and that I could go. I pushed wearily to my feet and walked away. Once I was out of earshot, I called Sgott.

“Darling girl,” he said effusively, “how are you this fine evening?”

“My, aren’t you sounding altogether so happy this evening, given your shift has barely even started—what’s happened?”

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