“Yes, sir,” she said.
“Can you give me a description of the singer?”
“No, sir, I’m very sorry about that. When she came running out of 604 I realized that in addition to wearing a wig and the big glasses, she also had on a lot of heavy makeup. I think she’s probably in her mid-thirties, and I can tell you that she was tall and slender and she seemed to have a lot of upper-body strength but that’s about it.”
“Slender? I thought opera singers were supposed to be built like SUVs.”
“That’s a generalization, sir. It’s true that there are some very large singers. Many of the women who sing Wagner probably shop in the plus-size department. But there are actually lots of body shapes on the stage. Some of the most famous sopranos are downright tiny.”
“You’re sure this one was a soprano?”
She thought about the shattered glassware. “Definitely. The kind referred to as a coloratura soprano. Those are the ones who can sing the highest ranges. I’m no expert but even I could tell that she had exquisite control on some incredibly high notes. At least she did until her rage got the better of her.”
“You saw her aura. I want a full profile.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get one to you as soon as possible. But if you don’t mind, I’d like some time to think about it. I also want to do some more research in the genealogy files. We’re talking about a very rare talent.”
“We don’t have any time to waste here.” Impatience crackled in Fallon’s voice.
“I understand, sir. But I want to be accurate. I’m not at my best at the moment.”
“All right. Get some sleep and then get back to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell Malone that the last of our surveillance people just arrived on the island. They’ll take over the job of watching the five Nightshade operatives. The two of you might as well pack.”
Grace felt a rush of disappointment. Her grand adventure as a J&J agent was ending.
“What happens now, sir?” she asked.
“In addition to shadowing the Nightshade people, I’m going to contact Harry Sweetwater.”
“Why?”
“The Siren you encountered must be a pro.”
“A professional opera singer? Yes, I think so.”
“No, a professional hit woman,” Fallon corrected impatiently. “Someone hired her to take out a Nightshade operative. That means she must be a private contractor available for hire. Sweetwater knows his competition. With luck he’ll be able to give me a line on her. Can’t be that many Siren talent contractors running around. Hell, you’d think I would have heard of her myself, by now.”
“I’m not so sure, sir. I think of professional hit people as being, well, cold-blooded, at least when they’re working.” She could hardly say that in her former job she had actually met a few killers thanks to Martin’s venture into the arms trade. “The Siren was a true diva. I told you, she went ballistic when her performance was interrupted. I wouldn’t have thought that a volatile temperament and a lack of emotional control would be an asset in a contract killer.”
“Guess you get all kinds in any profession,” Fallon said. “Let me talk to Malone.”
Obediently she held the phone out to Luther. He snapped it out of her fingers, looking like a man preparing to go into battle.
“What?” he said brusquely. He listened for a minute. “No, she is not going back to Eclipse Bay. Not yet, at any rate. I’m taking her home with me.”
Grace felt her spirits start to rise.
“Why?” Luther said. “Because that damn Siren is a nutcase. She became enraged with Grace today. Who’s to say she might not develop some sort of obsession? No, I’m not saying I think she’ll come after Grace, but I’m not going to take any chances, either. Grace stays with me until you find the singer and neutralize her.”
Grace’s soaring spirits immediately stalled out. Luther was going to keep her with him but only because he was worried about her safety. Still, she was not about to get picky here. She would take any excuse to prolong their association.
“Call me as soon as you know anything,” Luther said. He ended the connection and looked at Grace.
“I know you need sleep,” he said. “But you’ll have to hang on for a while. I want to get you off this island.”
“Okay, I’ll go pack.” She pushed herself up off the sofa. “I could use some coffee, though.”
“I’ll order some to go from room service. You can drink it in the car on the way to the airport.”
“All right.”
“And while you’re drinking your coffee, you can tell me what happened a year ago,” he added, his voice dangerously soft.
She froze in the doorway to the bedroom. “I beg your pardon?”
“You were sensitized for an entire year. I’m betting that the incident that triggered it was a little more dramatic than what happened today. You seemed to think that it would only take a few weeks to recover from that event. So, doing some quick math, I have to assume that whatever happened last year was worse than what happened today.”
She took a shaky breath. “You’re acting like a cop.”
“Yeah, I do that sometimes. Look, I’ve got no problem with you lying to Fallon. But I need the truth. Your life may be in danger. You’re going to have to trust me.”
TWENTY-FOUR
By the time they were in the car and headed toward the airport, she had recovered enough from the initial shock to succumb to a sense of resignation. Maybe she was just too exhausted to resist. No, she decided, the truth was that she simply didn’t want to lie to Luther any longer. She wasn’t sure what was going on between them. She was afraid to use the word “love” to describe the bond. It was too soon and she’d had too little experience with that particular feeling to be able to recognize it on sight. But whatever it was, she wanted desperately to trust him.
She peeled the lid off the coffee cup. “Do you think Mr. Jones knows that I didn’t tell him the full truth about what I did with my aura today?”
“Who knows?” Luther did not take his attention off the road. “He’s damn good at connecting dots, though, so you’d better assume he suspects more than he let on.”
“Why didn’t he say anything?”
“Probably because it didn’t suit him to say anything. Fallon is not what you would call the communicative type.”