Frost Line Read online

  “Cookie?”

  “No.”

  “They’re really good,” he said, lifting the box so it was a bit closer to her.

  His brown eyes looked hopeful, as if it was somehow important to him that she take the cookie he’d offered. She reached inside the box and took one, examining it with a bit of curiosity. It was brown, with pieces of something darker inside. Tentatively she took a bite, a bit uncertain about eating something brown. There were no drab foods on Aeonia. Hmm, not bad. The texture was crumbly, and the taste very sweet. It wasn’t as delicious as the small lemon sweet cakes her cook made for special occasions, but she could see the appeal.

  Elijah sighed and put the box on the table. He seemed to have lost his appetite. Finally he looked up at her and asked, “Is she still in there?”

  Lenna shook her head. “No.”

  Elijah’s eyes lit up. “Maybe she wasn’t really dead! Maybe she’s at the hospital!” He slipped off the chair and turned to take the same path Lenna had taken earlier, but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, Elijah. You were right. Your mother is gone.”

  He didn’t turn to face her. “Where is she, then?”

  “I don’t know.”

  His thin shoulders shook as he began crying again. She wanted to comfort him, but didn’t know how. How did one go about soothing a child who had lost his mother? She understood emotion, but after so many years of living distant from the worlds which were like Seven—uncertain, dangerous, and populated with humans who were short-lived—she found she couldn’t truly empathize. She had never lost someone she loved, much less a mother. The beings of the Major Arcana had been created, not born. She could, however, see where the mother/child bond would be strong.

  As helpless and inexperienced as she felt, she wanted to comfort this child. She wanted to take away the pain, but that was something she could never do. He would carry this pain for the rest of his life, because she couldn’t undo the past.

  She was saved from uttering words that might or might not help. A man opened the kitchen door and stepped inside without invitation. Lenna was startled, but she wondered if that was a custom here, if the man was a friend or a neighbor. The large man looked at Elijah and then at Lenna.

  Abruptly she stood straight and faced him. The same senses that allowed Lenna to feel pain and death in this house whispered to her … Beware.

  Chapter 5

  Derek Wilson had one rule: get the job done. He wasn’t picky about the jobs he took—understatement—because money was money, but some jobs he should have charged twice his already hefty fee just for the idiot factor. This was one of them. He’d taken care of some problems for State Senator Robert Markham before, but nothing on this level. It wasn’t anything he balked at, but he was aware of the high risk level.

  The stupid fuck had killed a woman last night. It was bad enough that the asshole couldn’t keep his dick in his pants; he had to lose his shit and kill his sidepiece—with her kid in the house. Now the kid was a witness, one that Markham wanted eliminated.

  High risk aside, this was also an opportunity. He shouldn’t complain. The ordinary jobs Derek took as a legitimate private investigator made him a living, but that was about it. Retirement, or even modest luxuries? Forget about it. On the other hand, cleaning up the messes of the rich and famous so they didn’t have to get their own hands dirty? That was pure gold. That was where the high fees came in.

  He was fifty-three, looking at retirement in the next few years. He needed every dime he could get. He didn’t want to spend his so-called golden years still taking shitty jobs and worrying about maybe having to eat cat food.

  Find the kid, Markham said. Did he have a picture of the kid? That was a big no. How old was the kid? School age, Markham said, but little. Seven, eight, nine; how the hell did he know? Color of hair and eyes? Dark hair, yeah, but Markham had blanked on the eyes. State Senator Robert Markham was, without doubt, the least observant client Derek had. All of his attention was focused on himself and his precious career.

  Derek needed a picture of the kid, because he sure as hell didn’t want to kill the wrong one. That would be all kinds of messy. Markham said there were a bunch of pictures in the house where the woman and kid lived—drop by and get one. Like that was easy, and without risk.

  But here he was, parked as discreetly as possible, because what choice did he have? None. He’d taken the precaution of smearing mud over his license plate in case people were up early instead of sleeping late while they could.

  He sat a minute to scope things out, and damn his luck, here came a woman and a kid walking down the street. He scooted down in his seat, so his head was below the headrest, so maybe they wouldn’t notice anyone in the car. In his experience, people were generally unobservant, anyway. Derek cautiously watched them, ready to duck completely out of sight if they looked his way. What were they doing out walking this early on such a cold morning? Who were they visiting? Who else was up this early?

  To his alarm, they went up to the front door of the house he was watching. What the hell was going on? Was this maybe the kid, Elijah, and someone he’d gone to for help? That didn’t make sense. Too many hours had passed for someone to just now be showing up.

  The woman and kid didn’t ring the doorbell, or knock. The woman tried the knob, but the door was obviously locked. Then the two headed around the house to the back door. He was parked at an angle, so he was able to see the kid bending down and coming up with what was obviously a key, because the woman took it from him.

  The likelihood that the kid was Elijah shot way up, though if the kid was Elijah, who was the woman? Not his mother, obviously, because she’d have known her own house was locked, and where the hidden key was, not to mention that she was dead, which was the reason why he was here in the first place. But if the kid had gone for help, why hadn’t the woman called the cops? This place should be swarming with them, but instead it was as quiet as a church on a Monday night. Something didn’t add up.

  But he wasn’t being paid to do math; he was being paid to clean up Markham’s mess.

  After waiting several minutes to see if anything happened, Derek got out of the car, turned up the collar of his overcoat against the icy wind, and walked toward the house. He kept a sharp eye out as he went, but as far as he could tell no one else on the street was stirring yet. That would change soon, and he needed to be gone before then.

  The element of surprise was a good thing. He walked up to the kitchen door, opened it, and went in as if he belonged.

  The two of them—the woman and the kid—were there in the kitchen. That kind of surprised him; he hadn’t exactly expected that, but they had to be more surprised and he could use that to his advantage. He had to make sure he had the right kid. He also wanted to make sure this Elijah could actually cause a problem for Markham. Derek loved a big payday, but he had never hurt a child before. He didn’t want to do it now, if there was any other choice.

  They both turned toward him, expressions a little shocked at his intrusion. The kid had big brown eyes. The woman was a looker, on the smallish side, with long blond hair and big blue eyes that seemed to see right through him.

  He shoved away the chill those blue eyes gave him, and pulled the fake badge from his jacket pocket, flashed it at them. “Detective George Benton,” he said as he slipped the badge back in his pocket. The kid would be fooled, but it would be best if the woman didn’t look too closely. Judging by the set of her mouth and the spark in her eyes she was suspicious enough.

  The boy looked up at the woman and whispered, “9–1–1.”

  The blonde narrowed her eyes at him, not the reaction he’d expected. “You are a police officer?”

  Derek nodded. “One of Lawrenceville’s finest.”

  The kid took a deep breath. His eyes went wide and his hands started to kind of flail. “Uncle Bobby killed Mom! I saw him, and then I ran, but I couldn’t find a phone and Zack wasn’t home, and …