“I–I meant in the basement of y–your aunt’s house,” he stammered.
She did not respond. When she turned back around on her heel she saw that Zack had the door open. Amusement and sincere admiration gleamed in his eyes.
“You’re good, too,” he said in a low voice as she swept past him. “Damn. I don’t think I’m going to be able to resist a woman who can level a guy with one look.”
Nine
She held the umbrella high enough to shelter both of them from the steady rain. The damp, cold night air stimulated all her senses. She felt gloriously alive, energized and hungry in ways she could not explain. She knew the cause of the exhilarating sensation was the man walking beside her. It was as though he had somehow drawn her into an invisible force field.
By unspoken agreement they turned toward the neon-lit windows of a nearby restaurant. A pickup truck and an SUV went past on the narrow, two-lane street that was the town’s main thoroughfare.
Shelbyville was an old lumber town, typical of the many that were scattered around the heavily forested Cascades. The mill had closed years before, destroying the economic base of the community. In a desperate attempt to survive, the residents had attempted a makeover, hoping to attract tourists, skiers and city folk looking for a quiet weekend getaway. The effort had been only partially successful. There was a sprinkling of shops and galleries along the three-block walk that separated the B and B and the restaurant. But underneath the thin veneer of updated storefronts you could still see the worn-out bones of the doomed logging town.
“How did you know that I like red wine?” she asked after a moment.
“The J&J analysts pulled up your credit card purchases for the past few months when they put the file together.”
“I hesitate to point this out, but isn’t that sort of illegal?”
“Probably. I leave that to Fallon Jones. I’m a strong believer in delegating when it comes to stuff like that.”
“Who’s Fallon Jones?”
“The head of the West Coast office of Jones & Jones.”
“He’s your boss, then?”
“He likes to think so.”
“Is everyone in a position of authority within the Arcane Society named Jones?” she asked, not bothering to conceal her disapproval.
“Heck, no.” He managed to sound amazed by the question. “Where’d you get that idea?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Let me take a little stab in the dark here. What’s the name of the current Master of the Society?”
To her surprise, he hesitated a fraction of a second before answering.
“Bancroft Jones,” he said neutrally.
“Has anyone with a last name other than Jones ever been Master?”
“You’re really trying to put me on the defensive here, aren’t you?”
“I think that answers my question.” She glanced at the envelope he had tucked under one arm. “What else does the file say about me?”
“Let’s see. You own a costume design and rental shop in Oriana and you have one full-time employee. You like to shop at Nordstrom and you go through a ton of peanut butter.”
“At breakfast,” she clarified. “I eat peanut butter on whole grain toast for breakfast almost every day.”
“Okay, that explains the peanut butter.”
“And if you live anywhere near Seattle, you shop at Nordstrom. It’s sort of a rule.”
“I’ll be sure to annotate the file.”
She shoved her free hand deeper into the pocket of her raincoat. “Is everything you know about me contained in that file?”
“Yes. There wasn’t a lot of background data available on you and only twenty-four hours to collect it. Most of what was in the J&J files pertained to your father, not you and your aunt.”
There was no apology in the words. Just a statement of fact.
“I realize,” she said coldly, “that these days there is no such thing as a guarantee of privacy. Nevertheless, I have to tell you that knowing that J&J had the utter gall to create that file makes me furious.”
“Figured it would. That’s why I told you about it up front. I wanted to get it out of the way so we could talk about other things.”
“Like this investigation you say you want my help with?”
“Right.”
He pushed open the glass door to the restaurant and held it for her. She swept past him, long coat swirling.
Fifteen minutes later, with dinner ordered and a glass of red wine sitting on the table in front of her, she felt better equipped to deal with the man from J&J.
“Do you ever take off that jacket?” she asked.
“Sometimes.”
She decided to let that go. There were, after all, more pressing issues.
“Tell me about this investigation you say involves my family history.” She kept her tone as brisk and businesslike as possible.
He did a quick survey of the restaurant. She realized that he was double-checking to make sure there was no one seated nearby who could overhear their conversation. They had been lucky to get a booth at the back because the restaurant was crowded. Raine was pretty sure that most of the tables were filled with members of the media and maybe a couple of out-of-town cops, not local residents. Cell phones rang constantly. There was a lot of loud conversation involving the subjects of airtime and how to get interviews with Chief Langdon. The background din provided ample cover for a private conversation.
She heard Doug Spicer’s name mentioned a couple of times but no one looked twice at her. Evidently Langdon had kept his word at the press conference. By now the entire town of Shelbyville undoubtedly knew that she had been with Doug Spicer when the girl was found but the out-of-town media was happily unaware of that bit of trivia.
Zack looked at her across the table. “Truth is, all I’ve got to work with is one hell of a coincidence.”
“What’s your coincidence?”
“Last month a researcher named Dr. Lawrence Quinn disappeared. Quinn was employed at an Arcane Society lab located in Los Angeles.”
Her fingers clenched around the stem of the wineglass. “Like my father?”
“Yes. In fact, Quinn worked at the same lab where your father worked and he was in the same field. He’s a biochemist who specializes in researching psychotropic pharmaceuticals.” Zack drank some of his wine and lowered the glass with an expression of mild surprise. “This stuff isn’t very good, is it?”