The meeting was in the conference room of an insurance company downtown, owned by an ally of the Graves faction. The window looked across the street at another office building. Helena Snowe was there, along with a younger woman. She was blond, slender, in her 20s, in a trim blue pantsuit, with an open briefcase on the table in front of her. Helena wore a gray sweater and slacks, her necklace catching the light from the fluorescents overhead.
The other side was represented by Micah Graves, older than me—I’m in my 40s—who wore a gray blazer and jeans, as if he didn’t have to rely on Brooks Brothers to intimidate anyone. He was accompanied by two men, both in suits that might have come off the rack from Sears.
We sat on opposite sides of a long table. Micah immediately zeroed in on me. “And you are?”
“This is Tom Jurgen.” Helena spoke before I could. “He’s a private detective I hired to pick Ross up from O’Hare last night. When someone tried to kidnap my nephew.”
The other Graves men looked at each other. Micah just shrugged. “You stopped them? Good.”
“Ross did most of it,” I said. “I just drove fast.”
The young woman leaned in. “How much do you know about Christine’s disappearance? Anyone?”
Micah looked to his men. One cleared his throat. “It was me and Robby.” He looked at me. “We came out with Mr. Graves. But we’re not private detectives.”
“I trust both of them,” said Micah, “or I wouldn’t have brought them here. Or sent them to the airport.”
“Anyway,” the guy said, “she came to the baggage claim, and she said she had to use the bathroom. She didn’t come out.”
The other man—Robby—cut in. “We waited 10 minutes. When she didn’t come out, Seth asked a woman to go in and check on her, but she wasn’t there. We went in, and we got yelled at, but Christine wasn’t there. We found her backpack in the garbage, after we called her phone. It was ringing in the backpack.”
“Do you have it?” I asked.
Micah shot him a look. “Go get it.”
“Why did she miss her flight last night?” I asked as Robby left.
Micah looked at Helena, irritated. “Is he in charge of your family now?”
“It’s a valid question.” Her tone was chilly. “Why?”
“She said she wasn’t feeling well.” He spoke to her, not me. “A stomach problem.”
“But she was better this morning?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Apparently.”
I turned to Helena. “Who knew what flight Ross was coming in on last night?”
“Me. Chad.” She turned. “Cecilia. That’s my attorney, Cecilia Spearing—” The young woman nodded. “Chad arranged the flight.”
I looked at Micah. “And your side had no idea when he was coming in?”
He shook his head. “We knew it was O’Hare. The day or night before the meeting.”
The door opened, and Robby came back with the backpack.
“Can I look at it? Did you search it?” I stood up.
Seth said, “Just the side pocket. For the phone.”
Robby set it on the desk. I unzipped the side pocket and found her phone. It was locked, so I couldn’t check her recent calls or contacts. I looked at Helena. “We’ll have to check Ross’ phone. He said he’s talked to her before this.”
She nodded. “As soon as we’re done here.”
I untied the cords on top of the backpack. “What was she wearing?”
Robby and Seth looked at each other. “Jeans,” Robby said. “A black jacket, with yellow stripes, like a tiger.”
“And a black scarf over her hair,” Seth said.
I reached into the backpack and pulled out a black jacket. The jagged yellow stripes did look tigerish. Underneath was a pair of jeans, and tangled in them was a black scarf.
I spread the clothes across the table. “At least we know she didn’t teleport out of there.”
Robby and Seth looked at each other, then at Micah. “No,” Robby said. “We were watching for her! There’s no way—"
“You were looking for one girl in a black jacket and a scarf on her head. She could have changed clothes, made friends with someone in the bathroom, and walked out with them. Or had a friend meet her—does she have any friends in Chicago?”
Micah glared at me. “We’ll check. We’re keeping that backpack, along with the phone. Gentlemen?”
Robby and Seth started packing up Christine’s clothes. Micah stood up, hands on the table. “We’ll be conducting our own search for Christine. I’ll let you know when we’ve found her, and we can go ahead with the meeting. We’re done here.” He turned with a gesture, and Robby and Seth followed him out of the conference room with the backpack.
I looked at the door. “Or maybe she did teleport, and left these as a ruse.”
Helena gave a faint smile. “What now, Tom?”
Good question. I hadn’t really expected to end up in charge. I just like to ask questions. “The clothes and backpack make it look like she wasn’t kidnapped, just went off on her own, but how this is connected to Ross last night, I don’t know.” Maybe she had been snatched, somehow, and they’d left her clothes behind to throw everyone off. That seemed overly complicated, though. Snatching a young woman in a public restroom would be tricky. “I’d like to talk to Ross. Alone.”
“He’s back at the hotel. Chad’s with him.” She stood up. “Let’s go, Cecilia.”
“Are you part of the family?” I asked her as she packed up her briefcase.
Cecilia looked at me, smiled, and lifted a finger.
A small flame began burning in the center of the conference room table.
She closed her briefcase. “What do you think, Tom?”
“That’s enough, Cecilia.” Helena lifted her own finger, and the flame disappeared without leaving a mark. “Let’s go.”
Ross was watching TV and fidgeting with his phone in a bedroom. Chad brought me a cup of coffee, then left us alone. Helena and Cecilia were in the main suite, discussing—whatever.
Ross looked up at me. He was on the bed, legs crossed. “Sup.”
“How you doing today?” I pulled a chair next to the bed.
He shrugged. “Fine. Bored. I mean, I know they have to watch out for me after last night. And this whole thing about Christine—I agreed to it, but now it’s like there’s a conspiracy or something. You know?”
“You know she’s disappeared.”
“Yeah.” He turned the TV off. “Is it the guys from last night?” He looked worried.
“I don’t think so. She may have just slipped away from her people at the airport, but we don’t really know.” I looked him over. “You’ve talked to her, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, we’ve Facetimed a few times. We text.”
“Have you heard from her lately?”
He scrolled through his phone. “Last week. She had a chem test she was nervous about.”
“That’s it? Nothing about coming out here to meet?”
He squirmed. “She was nervous. But she didn’t want to talk about it. So I guess she stopped texting me.”
“Do you like her?”
He looked away from me. “Yeah. She’s okay. Funny. I like her fine. I don’t know if I want to, you know, date her or whatever, but . . .” His voice trailed away, embarrassed.
“Do you have a picture?”
He scrolled again, then held out his phone. “That’s her.”
Christine was blond, with a streak of blue in her hair that matched her eyes. Two earrings in one ear, three in the other. Pretty, for a teenager. “Is that it? Any more?”
“I don’t have any pictures of her naked, or in her underwear, if that’s what you mean.” Ross rolled his eyes. “A few. Just regular selfies.”
“Send me a few. I may need them. What’s Christine’s last name, by the way?”
“Novis.” He spelled it.
I looked at her pictures came through on my phone, and then I asked, “Did she know when you were coming in?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Do you know any of her friends? People we could call?” I assumed Graves was already in contact with her parents, as well as trying to get into her phone. But that might take some time.
He shrugged. “Not really. I don’t know their names or numbers, I mean.”
“Does she have any friends here in Chicago?”
Ross looked at his phone, away from me. After a minute, he looked up. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. But everyone’s so serious. And after last night . . . Shit, she’s going to be mad at me.”
“We have to be sure she’s safe,” I said gently.
“Yeah.” He leaned back on the bed and looked at the ceiling. “There’s this girl named Jackie. Jackie Vega. I only know that because when they told us about Chicago last month that was the first or second thing she said. Then she told me not to tell anyone. I think she wants to get together with her, but she didn’t say for sure.”
“Do you know any more about her?” I started typing the name into my phone.
He grimaced. “No. I mean, it was just—wait, her folks are divorced, and her mother moved here. She lives with her mother, and it’s somewhere near the zoo. I remember that. That doesn’t help at all, does it?”
Not really. But I’d already found some social media for the name. “You don’t know what she looks like, do you?”
“No. I mean, she’s Christine’s age, but that’s all I know.” He looked upset. “Sorry.”
“That’s fine. She’s a teenager, so she may have an Instagram or something. Do kids use Facebook anymore?”
He snorted. “Hardly. Snapchat and WhatsApp are more like it.”
“I’ve heard of those.” I grinned. “Okay, let me see what I can find out. Thanks, Ross.” I stood up. “Please call me if you think of anything else.” I gave him one of my cards.
He stared at it, as if no one had ever given him a business card before. “Okay, thanks. You’ve got my number?” He held out his phone.
I made sure I had it. Ross picked up the remote, then hesitated before turning the TV on. “I hope you find her,” he said.
“I’ll do my best.” I left him alone.
Helena was talking with Cecilia when I came out. “Did you find anything?”
“One lead. I—” I remembered Ross’s nervousness. “I should keep it private right now. It may turn out to be nothing.”
She frowned, but before she could argue Cecilia stood up, looking at her phone. “Graves got into her phone. They found a picture taken at the zoo in Lincoln Park at 10 this morning, from a sender named, uh, Jack. He sent those two guys but they haven’t found her.”
Jack. I didn’t want to get Ross in trouble for breaking his promise to Christine, unless I really had to. I kept my face in neutral. “I’m going to check my lead out. I’ll be in touch.”
Helena looked annoyed, but said nothing. Cecilia was scowling at her phone. I headed to the door. My plan was to search for Jackie Vega online, try to locate her, contact her and then—
The door opened unexpectedly.
It was the three men from the airport.
I jumped back. The tall guy had his handgun. The short guy was unarmed, but the third, still in his corduroy jacket, held a Starbucks cup in his hand, as if ready to hurl hot coffee in my face.
I stumbled backward, shouting. Chad stepped out from the kitchenette, then quickly ducked back. Helena rose to her feet, gesturing to Cecilia. “Call the—”
“No calls!” The tall man pointed his weapon. “Where are they?”
Helena lifted an arm, palm up. “Tom, get down,” she said as the tall man took a step toward her.
I crouched, wondering what that meant but mostly hoping I wouldn’t soil my boxers if tall guy fired his pistol. Before I could worry about anything else, though, a loud CRACK! punched my ears.
The room shook. Lamps rocked on tables. The shockwave pushed me over, and I rolled to one side, suddenly gasping for breath.
Tall guy dropped his gun and fell to his knees. Short guy slumped forward, clutching his ears. The third guy fell backwards, spilling his Starbucks on the carpet.
Chad emerged again from the kitchenette, this time holding his own handgun, one that would have intimidated Dirty Harry. I saw Ross in the doorway to his room, eyes wide. He raised one hand, as if to do his push, but Helena waved him to stay back.
Cecilia fled the room, phone in hand. Talking urgently. 911? Wizard Police? I didn’t know.
Then the Starbucks guy sat up, his face red. He swung an arm toward Chad and flicked his finger, and Chad staggered back, grunting. His big Magnum or whatever it was slipped from his hand. I ducked and covered my head in case it went off.
Helena raised her arm again, and then the Starbucks guy closed his fist and opened it, spreading his fingers wide like an explosion—
And then I couldn’t see anything.
Panic swirled in my brain. A month ago I’d been struck blind by a curse. Okay, I was cured pretty quickly and I could see fine now, but it made me aware of how vulnerable I really was, whether it was guns, magic, or just a bad fall. I didn’t want Rachel to be stuck taking care of me. She wouldn’t even be mad, but I’d resent the hell out of it.
I blinked frantically, and after a moment I realized my eyes were fine. A dense smoke had suddenly enveloped the room, swirling like a black sandstorm that smelled like burning leaves and bitter tea. I sat up, waving my hand in front of my face, which didn’t help at all. I saw a shadow run in front of me, and I stuck out a leg. Someone grunted and cursed but kept going.
Helena shouted, “Chad! Get Ross!”
I struggled to my feet. I heard and felt bodies nearby. Someone pushed me. I reached out and grabbed at something—an arm, but it twisted and slipped away. I stepped back, my hands out, searching in the darkness for someone or something to hold onto and hoping nobody fired off a gun into the darkness. Helena yelled for Ross again.
Then suddenly the black shroud faded, and I could see once more. I groaned with relief as I looked around.
The short guy sat on the ground, clutching a bloody knee and groaning. Helena was half-sprawled on the sofa, rubbing her eyes, with Cecilia leaning over her, murmuring quietly.
Chad was in the middle of the room, looking around. No gun in his hand—I spotted it on the floor near the window. The other two intruders were gone. The Starbucks cup lay on the carpet in a puddle of coffee.
Chad spun in a circle, his eyes wide. “Ross? Ross, you there?”
Helena lurched up. “Check on Ross.”
Chad and me trotted toward Ross’ bedroom. Empty, the TV still on. No phone. No Ross.
Ross was gone.
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