Page 79 of Deadly Avarice
Captain Cicely appeared in front of me, her worried eyes boring into mine. Quietly she mouthed, “What’s going on?”
I shook my head, before quickly muting my side of the phone conversation. “Huxley says Boone’s not at home and he almost died.” I forced my brain to concentrate on that single word—almost. That meant Boone was alive. But where? “He’s supposed to be at home, but Huxley says—”
“He went to Trinity Holy Cross Cemetery to meet a client. Someone named Meeker.” The captain read from a folded-up piece of paper. “I wrote it down so I wouldn’t get the name wrong.”
“Fucking shit,” I cursed before unmuting the phone. “Is he still at the cemetery?” I asked Huxley. I had no idea how he might know but was certain he did.
“He is and in need of assistance,” Huxley answered.
I snatched up my coat again and began shoving my arms into the sleeves as I held the phone between my ear and shoulder. “How long ago?”
“Within the last few minutes.”
“Is he still in danger?” I asked while heading for the door. Captain Cicely was hot on my heels.
“The immediate threat has been…eliminated.” Satisfaction rang through Huxley’s voice.
“I’m on my way,” I answered and started to end the call, but Huxley wasn’t finished.
“I am very disturbed by what happened today, Detective. I am afraid further intervention is required as you seem incapable of protecting such a valuable resource. Good day, Detective.” Huxley ended the call, and I stood there, mouth hanging open as I stared at my darkening screen.
“O’Hare?” Captain Cicely grabbed my arm and shook when I didn’t immediately answer. “O’Hare? What’s going on?”
I didn’t know what to say. All I knew was that I’d just been threatened. No, not me, Boone. “He’s going after Boone,” I said, those words little more than an unbelievable whisper. “I don’t know what he wants, but Huxley is after Boone.” And dammit, I’d just given him a reason to justify his actions. He’d claim he was protecting Boone. I still had no idea what form that supposed protection would take. All I knew was that it wouldn’t be welcome because it wouldn’t come without strings. Huxley said it himself. He viewed Boone as avaluable resource. He didn’t love Boone like I did. He didn’t care for him like Holland or Ms. Boone.
Tugging on my arm, Captain Cicely got me moving. “Come on. Let’s find Boone. The rest can wait.”
She was right, and I quickly scrambled into the passenger’s seat, the captain behind the wheel. Lights flashing and sirens blaring, Captain Cicely’s tires tossed gravel aside as we sped out of the precinct parking lot.
“I should have texted you that he was going to meet the Meeker woman.” Captain Cicely slammed her hand on the steering wheel. I could feel her power radiating off her, making my skin itch. The captain only lost control of herself when she was very upset. The last time I’d felt this level of agitation had been when we’d figured out our own medical examiner, Dr. Morgan McCallister was the serial killer we were looking for.
Captain Cicely’s numerous rings glinted in the fading light. “He was supposed to let you know.”
I inhaled while holding onto theoh shitbar. I wasn’t about to tell the captain to slow down. “He probably didn’t want to distract me. And then when I called him earlier, he was upset that I’d gotten hurt.” That didn’t excuse Boone keeping this shit to himself. Although, to be fair, at least he’d informed Captain Cicely. Which begged the question, why did she know?
“How do you know where he is?”
“He was on the phone with Meeker after you left. I think he was trying to reschedule but she was adaptable and said she could come to him. They agreed to meet in Trinity Holy Cross Cemetery. I just happened to be walking by when he ended the call and he told me what he was going to do. I’m sorry, but I don’t know much more than that.” Captain Cicely sounded apologetic.
“Don’t apologize. At this point, you know a hell of a lot more than me.” I could only assume the soul Meeker wanted returned was from a body that had been cremated. At least I couldn’t imagine exhuming a body, renting a hearse, and driving the deceased from Louisiana to Mississippi.
“What in the hell has he gotten himself into this time?” Captain Cicely asked. “I swear, Boone has a target painted on his back that whack jobs seem to think is fun to aim at.”
I couldn’t really disagree. My heart thudded and my skin still felt cold and clammy. My arm sang with renewed pain and my left hip had gone from a gentle aching reminder that I wasn’t as young as I once was to a howl of angst.
“Here.” Captain Cicely shoved a larger charm at me. “It’s a healing potion. Can’t say much for the taste and I don’t have anything to water it down with so just drink it like a shot.” When I hesitated, Captain Cicely said, “Just drink it, O’Hare. You look like you need it.”
“Boone could be in worse shape,” I said while holding the vial in my hand.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got more.”
With that guarantee, I activated the potion, popped the top, and threw it back. It was just as nasty as Captain Cicely said it would be. I made a disgusted sound that turned into a groan of relief. I hadn’t realized just how much pain I was in. “Fuck, this is fantastic.” I stared at the empty container in wonder.
Captain Cicely snatched it back and said, “Don’t get used to it, O’Hare. These things cost a mint to make. You and Boone sure as shit better get that through your heads. I’m tired of needing to heal your trauma-prone asses.” The concern in Captain Cicely’s rebuke negated its sting.
“I’ll make sure Boone understands,” I answered.
“You better.”
