Page 40 of Dead Heat

“I have a few promising leads,” Hailey said in a chipper voice. “Slavic sources aren’t that easy to find, but I’ve submitted a request to the interlibrary loan system.” She seemed to notice my attention was still on the exit. “Was that lady a friend of yours? I loved her outfit. I’ve never been a big fan of pink, but she has me reconsidering.”

I kept my focus on the automatic doors, half afraid Posy would rethink her decision to leave without a fight. Despite her soft pink exterior, there was a steeliness to her—she was a hard candy shell without the gooey center.

“She isn’t my friend, and if you ever see her again, don’t compliment her. Don’t even look at her.”

“You want me to ignore her?”

I shifted my gaze to Hailey. “I want you to run.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

I didn’t relishthe task of tracking down Alessandro’s recent sexual partners. There was the obvious ick factor, but also an uncomfortable invasion of privacy. I didn’t see a way around it though. Any one of them could be responsible for his curse.

I parked my motorcycle at a trailhead and followed the directions through Destiny Woods to the home of Raina Balodis. Despite having her full name, I couldn’t find a listing for her. It was Kane who furnished me with explicit instructions, with the added assurance that his knowledge wasn’t firsthand.

Raina’s cottage was the stuff of fairy tales. Pale ribbons hung from the tree branches that surrounded the compact house. A wild garden bordered the left side, and a small pond bordered the right.

There went my theory that you can tell a lot about someone by the home they keep. This sweet fairy tale cottage suggested Snow White or Sleeping Beauty, neither of which would’ve chosen a portable toilet for a tryst with theirprince. I didn’t even want to use a portable toilet for its intended purpose, let alone anything else.

I knocked on the arched wooden door and waited. I half expected a team of small furry friends to greet me. Instead it was a leggy blonde with smoky eyes. She wore a simple white shift dress. Bare feet. Each toenail was painted a different pastel color; her toes resembled a carton of Easter eggs.

“Hi. My name is Lorelei Clay. I’m looking for Raina Balodis.”

“You found her. How can I help you?”

I heard the faintest trace of an accent. “I love your accent. How long have you lived in the US?”

“Is it so obvious?”

“I have a good ear.”

“Would you believe I’ve lived here so long, I’ve lost count?”

“I believe it.” I decided to fast forward through the pleasantries. “Are you immortal?”

Her eyes locked on me. They looked like two storm clouds gathering strength in case they decided to unleash their fury. “No,” she answered slowly, “but I live a very long time. You?”

“Immortalish.” No need to get into the specifics of my situation. “I have a delicate matter to discuss, and I’d rather not do it outside for all the woodland critters to hear.”

Her gaze skimmed me from head to toe, whatever misgivings she had about me seemingly eased. “Would you like to come inside? You’ll have to excuse the state of the cottage. I don’t entertain visitors very often.”

“I’d like to say the same, but the entrance to my house has turned into a revolving door.”

Raina laughed. “You are somewhat of a hermit, too? Do you also live in the forest?”

“Very close to it.” I stepped inside. The interior was every bit as charming as the exterior. Flower vases adorned each surface. A variety of daisies in a ceramic vase sat on the kitchen counter. Orange and pink tulips spilled from a tall glass vase on the small dining table. A bud vase with a single pink tulip brightened the ledge of the kitchen window.

“It looks like spring in here,” I said.

“Thank you. The colors keep me going through the dreary winter. Flowers are so cheerful.”

“I have a roommate who’s threatening to turn my entire yard into flowerbeds soon.”

She angled her head toward the oven. “Would you like a slice of pie? I baked an apple and cinnamon one earlier. It’s still warm.”

What kind of guest would I be if I turned down freshly baked apple pie? “I would love a piece.”

Raina hummed to herself as she sliced the pie, and I recognized the tune of Tchaikovsky’sSwan Lake.

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