Page 93 of Deadly Lineage
Twenty-Nine
Franklin
I stared at Boone’s latest text message. Was he insane or was he just that damn dedicated? I needed to buy a shock collar and place an invisible fence around his yard. With shaking fingers, I typed back,Your client will understand. Her uncle’s long dead, another day or two won’t make a difference.I hit the send button and prayed Boone would wise up and put his own health first. I contemplated calling his mother and getting her involved but didn’t. I wasn’t sure if Boone would forgive me later or not.
Tossing my phone on my desk, I sat down heavily while scrubbing my face with my hands.Christ, this was a clusterfuck.How in the hell had we missed this? How had Captain Cicely missed this? She was a witch. Witches could read magic on others. In her defense, the captain seemed more pissed off than me. She was angry enough at herself for the both of us. Maybe I didn’t know a lot about Captain Cicely’s private life, but from what I understood, she was a capable witch and if she hadn’t been able to tell that McCallister was something other than human, then I couldn’t get my boxers in a bunch. It’s not like I’d been any more help. Most departments didn’t have any otherspecies beyond human on their payroll. We were lucky to have Captain Cicely.
While I sat there, contemplating my life choices and where’d they led me, my phone lit up with an incoming call.
“Hey, Becks,” I answered. “Did you get home okay?”
“Yeah. No issues. Did you find anything out?” I didn’t have to ask her to elaborate.
“No. He wasn’t in his office,” I answered. “Captain Cicely is looking into things as we speak.”
“Oh, I…I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. I’m worried.” Beckssoundedworried. She also sounded distracted. I didn’t have to wait long to find out why. “Listen, O’Hare. With everything that happened, it kind of slipped my mind, but while I was on my way home, I remembered something. I shouldn’t have done it, but you know I like to help out when I can and at the time I didn’t see anything wrong with it, but now I’m kind of wondering. I mean, it’s probably nothing, but—”
“Becks,” I cut off her nervous verbal meandering, “what’s on your mind?”
She blew out a breath. “Yesterday, Dr. McCallister stopped by my desk and asked me to look up the contact information for someone. He said it had to do with a notification, but there was something about the way he asked that didn’t sit right with me. I mean, he’s done it maybe a handful of times, but it’s rare, and considering what we think might be going on, I was just worried that maybe I placed someone else in danger.”
I grabbed a nearby piece of paper and pen and said, “Do you remember the name?”
“Tina Waylon,” Becks answered.
“Waylon, Waylon…” I mulled on that. The name sounded familiar but I wasn’t sure where I’d heard it. Tapping my pen on the table, I said, “Thanks, Becks. I’ll look into it. Try and relax and Captain Cicely and I will take it from here.”
“Okay.” Relief flooded that one word. “I’ll call if I happen to think of anything else.”
“Thanks, Becks,” I answered before hitting the end button.
Tina Waylon’s name repeated through my head and I desperately attempted to attach another memory to it. Failing miserably, I pulled up Boone’s last text thread to see if he’d written anything back yet. There was nothing there, but an information bubble further up caught my eye. It was Boone’s client schedule. He’d sent it to me yesterday morning and that triggered something.
My hands felt clammy as I scrolled up the message thread, highlighting the one I needed. And there it was, the name that seemed so familiar and yet I couldn’t place. Tina Waylon, Boone’s client. The very same client he was with right now. The same client that Dr. McCallister had asked Becks to look up.
Standing, my chair slid out from under me, slamming into the wall. “Son of a bitch,” I growled and immediately brought up Boone’s number and hit send. “Come on… Come on… Answer the damn phone.”
He didn’t, and my call went to voicemail. I left a curt “call me ASAP” as my message before heading to Captain Cicely’s office. We had a problem. We had a very big problem.
I’d never felt this much anxiety waiting in an airport. I couldn’t stop pacing. I felt like I might vomit any second, and it wasn’t because I was getting ready to meet Boone’s father for the first time, or that Nikodemus Holland could make my life excruciating with barely a hint of effort.
I only wished my nausea was due to those thoughts. Instead, my unease circled a singular source—Boone. He was MIA. Boonewasn’t at his house. He wasn’t with his momma, and he wasn’t with his client. Tina Waylon confirmed she’d been contacted by Boone and told that he wouldn’t be able to make their appointment, which flew in opposition to the text I’d gotten from him stating he was already there.
And then there was Boone’s car. I could only assume he’d contacted a ride share and picked his car up at the station and then driven it out to Bridger Highlands Cemetery. I’d found it tucked back along a winding road, close to Tina Waylon’s uncle’s gravesite. Boone was nowhere to be found. I’d checked the tent and surrounding area. What I had found was enough to make my heart pound and my head want to explode.
Sleeping dust.
My lips twisted in disgust. The stuff was generally illegal and only permitted for medicinal purposes. Of course, it was abused, just like any other drug out there. It seemed harmless enough, but it wasn’t. Just a bit of the magenta-colored dust knocked out nearly each and every species within a matter of seconds. The very idea of it screamed abuse.
Boone was gone. I could only assume he’d been taken. Captain Cicely and I’d repeatedly tried contacting Dr. McCallister, but to no avail. The implication was clear.
I stared down at the communication charm in my hand. It had lit up like a blaring neon sign while on my way to the airport. While I’d been frightened it was activated, at least that meant Boone was still alive. He’d told me he had to be alive to activate it. I clung to that thin thread of thought, using it to weave a barrier against the dark images threatening to consume me.
Current regulations didn’t allow me to be right at the exit for Holland’s flight, but I set up post at the next best location. I didn’t think I’d have trouble identifying him. When I saw the tall figure with broad shoulders and jet-black hair heavily painted with gray at the temples, I knew I had my warlock.
I’d sent him a text, letting him know I’d be there to pick him up. Since I wasn’t sure he knew what I looked like, I held up Boone’s glowing communication charm. Holland’s intense black eyes zeroed in on the charm and he strode through the throng of passengers on his way to me.
I wasn’t short—I was taller than the average human male. But Nikodemus Holland dwarfed me. He’d perfected the art of looming, and made me feel like an insect pinned to a board.
