Sapphire Flames Page 8

  “The official results will be available tomorrow; however, under the circumstances, I felt urgency was in order. Is Ms. Etterson present?”

  “Yes,” Runa said.

  “Very well. I can confirm that one of the bodies is that of Sigourney Etterson.”

  As expected.

  “The other body doesn’t match any of the profiles in House Etterson. It shares no similar genetic markers.”

  Runa jerked upright in her seat.

  “Could you please repeat that?” I asked.

  “The other body isn’t Halle Etterson.”

  “Where is she then?” Runa demanded.

  “I don’t know. I know where she isn’t. She isn’t in the Forensic Institute’s morgue. I hope this was helpful. Ms. Baylor, Ms. Etterson, good day.”

  Holy shit.

  The three of us, Bern, Runa, and I, stared at each other.

  Leon strode into the kitchen. He wore his bloodstained T-shirt on his head, like a turban, and his bare chest peeked through the gap of his open jacket. He was carrying a bucket of fried chicken in one hand and a bank deposit slip in the other.

  “I closed Yarrow,” he said. “The three of you look like you’ve just been slapped by a ghost.”

  “Neither of the bodies from the Etterson fire belongs to Halle Etterson,” Bern said.

  “Wow.” Leon put the deposit slip in front of me, dropped into a chair, pulled the cardboard lid from the bucket, and fished out a drumstick.

  “So, does this mean Halle’s alive?” Runa asked.

  I glanced at Bern, sitting at the table, but he apparently decided to impersonate a statue from Easter Island, because all I got back was an enigmatic look. I was on my own.

  “No. It means that the other body in the morgue isn’t your sister.”

  “So she could be alive?”

  Runa jumped up and paced around the kitchen, circling the island. She was desperate and drowning in grief. The small chance that Halle might have survived was a lifeline and she clung to it. She was irrational before, and she would be completely unpredictable now. I had to make sure she stayed put. The last thing we needed was her running out to “investigate.”

  “She could be alive. If they killed her, why go through the trouble of planting a body? However, we aren’t sure where she is or what condition she’s in. Somebody went to great lengths to make sure she was officially dead. They didn’t want anyone to look for her. We have to tread carefully here. We may endanger her by our actions.”

  Runa stopped pacing and stared at me. “Catalina, if there is the slightest chance that my sister is alive, we have to find her. Nothing else matters; not revenge, not finding the murderer, nothing except Halle’s life.”

  “I understand. Halle is the first priority.” I turned to Bern. “Were you able to find that two million Sigourney liquidated on the day of her death?”

  Bern frowned.

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “I’ve checked all of our accounts,” Runa said. “It’s not there. It wasn’t wired in and then wired out or withdrawn. It didn’t come in as a big chunk or in smaller deposits.”

  “Ramma munnuf,” Leon said.

  “Swallow your food,” Bern told him.

  Leon gulped his iced tea. “Ransom money.”

  Thank you, Captain Obvious. Just because we hadn’t blurted it out in front of the client didn’t mean we all weren’t quietly thinking it.

  Runa froze. “Do you think Halle was kidnapped and Mom withdrew the money to pay the ransom?”

  “It’s a possibility,” I said, keeping my tone measured.

  “Catalina, stop treating me like I’m made of glass! Everything is ‘may’ and ‘possibility’ and ‘we’re not sure’! I deserve an honest answer.”

  You know what, fine.

  “Okay. Here is the truth: I don’t know. I’m trying not to get your hopes up, because you’re grieving, and it makes you prone to rash decisions.” There, that was honest.

  “Dun dun dun,” Leon intoned dramatically.

  “Rash decisions? Like what?” Runa demanded.

  “Like poisoning the man who could’ve told us who hired him to cover up this murder.”

  Runa waved her arms. “My mother’s body attacked us, I freaked out! And besides, it was your boyfriend who stabbed him.”

  “Please. Conway was a dead man walking before he left the room. You poisoned him so well that his body grew an inch of black fuzz after he was already dead. And for the last time, Alessandro isn’t my boyfriend.”

  Runa’s eyes narrowed. “When I saw you, you had your hand on his arm, as if you were walking into prom. You had that look on your face.”

  Leon and Bern looked like they were watching a great movie and had just come to the best part. Ugh.

  “What look?” I asked.

  “The I’m-touching-the-dreamiest-guy-in-the-universe look.”

  “I was flustered. I’d just watched him stab a man and then smile at me like nothing happened.”

  “Well, I was flustered too!”

  Arabella walked into the kitchen. “I smell chicken. Give.”

  “You’re gonna want to sit down for this,” Leon told her. “Catalina and Runa are having a fight. We’re about an inch from hair pulling.”

  “A fight?” Arabella’s eyes widened. “A real fight?”

  “Yes,” Bern told her.

  “Pass the popcorn,” my sister said.

  Why did I put up with all of this? Oh yeah, they were family and I loved them no matter what. But sometimes, like right now, I loved them significantly less.

  I turned to Runa. “Your sister could have been kidnapped. The ransom would explain where the money went. But this scenario has problems.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Like what?”

  “First, if someone kidnapped Halle, and your mother paid the ransom, why kill her and why plant a fake Halle? If your mother failed to pay the ransom, where is the money, and again, why the decoy? It would make much more sense to contact you and say that they killed your mother and they have your sister. You would pay whatever they asked. Also, your mother says in the video that she didn’t regret her actions and that she did what she felt was right. That suggests that the fire was an act of punishment. She expected to be in danger, but she says nothing about your sister, and she made no effort to shield Halle by sending her away, for example, which implies your mother thought she was the only one in trouble. So no, none of this makes sense.”

  Runa pondered it. The silence stretched.

  “Fair enough,” she said finally. “What about this Diatheke thing?”

  Bern cleared his throat. “On paper, they’re an investment firm ‘seeking partnership with high net worth individuals, families, and firms.’ They mainly invest in enterprises in South America. Average Web site, pictures of corporate officers, which are old white guy, younger white guy, and some people in their thirties with good dentists and above average income.”

  So far, pretty average.

  “There are no reviews or testimonials, which isn’t unusual for a private investment firm,” Bern continued. “Their Glassdoor listing is vague. Employees: one to eighty. Net worth: unknown. Revenue: unknown. Salaries: unknown. Again, not unusual. Bloomberg, which gets its info from S&P Global Market Intelligence, lists Randall Baker as a founder. He doesn’t belong to any House and he isn’t on Herald. He hasn’t been indicted. He hasn’t declared bankruptcy. The company never declared bankruptcy and has never been sued or sanctioned. They’re a private equity firm like dozens of others in Houston. The only thing notable about them is that their founder is likely a figurehead.”

  “Why do you think that?” Runa asked.

  “Because Randall Baker is ninety-two years old and his primary residence is in Naples, Florida,” Bern said. “I broke into his home network and read his email. He hasn’t been to Houston since before we became a House.”

  I rubbed my face. “Tomorrow I’ll go to Diatheke and see what I can find
out. They probably won’t tell me where they wired the money, if they wired it, but at least we can confirm that the funds were transferred.”

  Runa looked at me. “I’ll come with you.”

  “No,” the four of us all said at the same time.

  She threw her hands up. “I won’t poison anybody.”

  “If you go there with Catalina,” Bern said, “she’ll have to concentrate on keeping you safe instead of finding your sister.”

  “What he said,” Arabella said.

  “Please stay here,” I told Runa. “Besides, if Ragnar wakes up, he’ll need to see you. He’ll be in a strange place, with strange people, and waking up after my magic will be confusing enough.”

  “Okay,” Runa said. “I’ll stay here and sit on my hands. Doing nothing. While you go into danger on my behalf. Happy?”

  “Ecstatic. Arabella, will you come talk to me upstairs?”

  I marched into the hallway. As I climbed the ladder to my loft suite, I heard Bern behind me rumble, “She really wants to help you. Personal confrontations are very difficult for her.”

  Great. Look at all this respect I was getting as Head of House. So much respect.

  Arabella knocked on the ladder and climbed up. “I’m so tired. What did you need?”

  “Could you look into Halle Etterson for me?”

  Arabella grimaced. “You think she killed her mother, planted a corpse, and made off with a cool two mil?”

  “I don’t know, but I want to find out.”

  My face felt too hot. I went to the window, unlatched it, and slid it open. The night exhaled cold air, cooling my skin. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, Bern was right. I didn’t like confrontations. Especially with people I cared about.

  “Did Alessandro actually stab somebody?”

  “Yes. He did it well too.”

  Arabella exhaled. “Well, I’m shook.”

  Shook was a good way to put it.

  My window opened onto a street, behind which rose tall brick buildings. Between the buildings and the road an old oak tree spread its branches, its massive trunk encircled by a four-foot-high stone wall. A lone streetlamp fought a valiant battle against the night, illuminating some of the street and the tips of the branches.

  I sighed. It was a long, long day, and I had so much work to do tomorrow . . .

  Arabella said something.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I said you should have some chicken. Don’t be pulling a Nevada on me.”

  “I will. I just didn’t want to ask you in front of Runa.”

  Movement troubled the oak. I focused on it.

  Alessandro sat on the thick branch directly across from my window. He wore charcoal grey, and his hair was brushed back from his face.

  He raised his hand and waved at me.

  I caught my hand rising to wave back and spun to my sister. “He’s here!”

  “Who?”

  “Alessandro! He’s sitting in the oak.”

  Arabella dashed to the window. “Where?”

  The tree was empty.

  I pointed to where he had been a moment before. “Right there. He waved at me.”

  I grabbed my phone and dialed the emergency contact for Abarca.

  “Chicken,” my sister said. “Lots and lots of chicken. Helps with hunger-induced hallucinations.”

  “I saw him.” The phone rang and rang.

  “I believe that you think you saw him. The heart wants what the heart wants, Catalina.”

  “My heart doesn’t want anything. I saw him stab a man in the chest and now he’s in the oak, bypassing our security like it’s not even there.”

  “Chicken and then a nap. How about a nice long nap?”

  “I’ll put you into a nice long nap.”

  She snorted. “You and what army?”

  “Abarca!” the phone said.

  “There is an intruder on the premises.”

  “Are you sure?” Abarca asked.

  “Yes, I’m sure. He was in the tree by my window. If he was a sniper, I would be dead, or Arabella would be dead.”

  “I find it highly unlikely,” Abarca said. “We’ve got the place locked down tight. Are you sure . . .”

  “My sister said she saw an intruder,” Arabella yelled. “Do something!”

  “We’re on it.” Abarca hung up.

  I dialed Bug.

  “If you’re calling about that ass clown, I don’t have him yet. He got away from me this afternoon, but I’ll find him . . .”

  Ass clown. What did that even mean . . . “He was in the oak by my window twenty seconds ago.”

  “Dickfucker!”

  Bug hung up.

  “Food. Now,” Arabella ordered.

  “Okay, okay.” I headed for the door. “I did see him.”

  “Maybe you’ll see him in your dreams. By the way, I called our insurance company to give them a heads-up about the Yarrow case.”

  “Why?”

  “We rammed a house with Brick.”

  I made a one-eighty. “You what?”

  “It was a hostage situation,” she said. “The damages aren’t that bad.”

  “How bad?”

  “We took out a wall and a panic room door.”

  I opened my mouth. Too many words tried to come out at once, and I just stood there, trying to sort them out.

  “Anyway, our insurance is canceled as of last month.”

  “What? Are they claiming we didn’t pay the bill? Because I had them on direct deposit!”

  My sister sighed. “No, they canceled because our grace period expires tomorrow, and we’re ‘high risk.’”

  “Nice. Do they expect us to immediately die in horrible ways?”

  Arabella nodded. “Pretty much. Let’s go get some dinner.”

  Chapter 6

  I woke up because my alarm went off and it was my turn to cook breakfast.

  Cooking was basically my and Mom’s job. When Nevada lived with us, she was too busy keeping us afloat financially. Bern and Leon had kitchen duty once a week and usually made meat, preferably steak, and they served it charred on top and raw in the middle. Grandma Frida came from the generation when things weren’t cooked unless they were mushy or slightly burned, and my younger sister, who was actually a decent cook when she had to be, couldn’t be trusted to stay in the kitchen for the duration of the cooking process. She’d start frying and then end up outside texting to her friends or in the media room laughing at some show, until the smoke detectors went off and we had to race to save the food and put out the fire.

  I set about making things. Since it was a weekday, I decided on a simple menu. I put two packs of bacon into two baking pans and popped them in the oven. Then I mixed the batter for the blueberry pancakes.

  The best part about cooking, besides making delicious things, was that it gave you time to think while your hands were busy.

  I had spent a few more hours last night going through Sigourney’s case files. Most of the people she testified against were still incarcerated. Two had died and one was released and had moved out of the country. The revenge angle was looking unlikely.

  Every minute we wasted chasing down dead ends made recovering Halle that much less probable. The first seventy-two hours in a missing person case were crucial. The fire happened early Monday morning. Today was Thursday. The seventy-two hours had come and gone, and we hadn’t even realized she was missing for most of it.

  I imagined Runa finding her sister’s body after thinking Halle was alive, and shuddered. How much loss could Runa and her brother take? To have that hope and then have it crushed was almost worse than not having it at all. And where was Halle? If I was right, someone dragged her out of her house in the middle of the night while her mother burned to death. It made me angry. Violently angry.

  We had to make some progress today. Bug hadn’t reported in, so right now Diatheke was the most obvious choice. They opened their doors at nine and I would be there exactly one minute afte
r that. I had the legal backing and my magic. They would tell me what I wanted to know whether they liked it or not.

  I called Nevada while chopping mushrooms for the egg, mushroom, and cheese scramble.

  My sister answered on the second ring. “Yes?”

  “How’s Spain?”

  “Sunny and beautiful. How’s Houston?”

  “Cold. My toes are cold. Anyway, do you remember Runa Etterson?”

  “Yes.”

  “Her family was murdered.” I summarized things for her.

  “In the heart, huh?”

  “Yes. It was smooth, Nevada. Practiced.”

  “Well, that’s a hell of a thing. Do you need me?”

  “No. If we do, I’ll call you, I promise. I don’t want you to worry.”

  Nevada snorted. “You sound like Mom. Speaking of Mom, how are things with Abarca?”

  Yep, she’d heard about Augustine waltzing into our house at two o’clock in the morning. I knew Rogan left someone to watch us. The man couldn’t help himself. Served us right for not spotting the observer. If our security was better, they wouldn’t have gotten so close. If I told Abarca about it, he wouldn’t believe me. According to our valiant security chief, there was “no way” for anyone to penetrate our perimeter, climb an oak, and then wave at me. His exact words were “not even a squirrel.” In fact, he heavily implied that I hallucinated the entire thing.

  “We may have to let him go,” I said. “Mom is beating herself up over the whole thing.”

  “They were friends and Abarca looked good on paper.”

  “That’s what I told her.”

  “Catalina, if you really get in trouble, call Heart. I’ll text you the number. He’s in the States and between wars right now.”

  He headed Rogan’s elite unit, fighting in conflicts all over the world for astronomical prices. We couldn’t afford Heart, even with Rogan’s discount.

  “I will,” I told her. “Does he take installment payments?”

  “Seriously,” Nevada said. “Call him. I don’t want to come back home to burned bodies.”

  “You worry too much,” I told her.

  “I worry just enough. I would worry less if you promise to call Heart.”

  “If things get bad, I promise I’ll call Heart. Love you.”