"We're still waiting for him to come out of the woodwork," Max assured her. "Don't worry, if and when he shows up, we'll grab him."
"Surely you have a list of possible suspects," she said.
"We do," Max said. "We're checking it, trust me."
"For heaven's sake, how many collectors would be interested in old weapons infused with paranormal properties?"
Max and Fallon looked at each other. Fallon shrugged. So did Max.
Isabella sighed. "Okay, more than a handful, I take it."
"You'd be surprised," Max said.
"We've got two problems," Fallon said. "We need to find both the client and whoever was supplying Phillips and Garrett with the para-weapons." He looked at Max. "I take it that you didn't come up with anything helpful on Sloan's computer?"
"My people are still digging but so far nothing," Max said. "Sloan was a very careful man. Which makes me wonder who got to him."
"Given the timing of his death, I'm thinking whoever was supplying him with the para-guns was the one who shot him," Fallon said.
"Really?" Isabella asked, fascinated.
Max frowned. "Hadn't thought about that possibility."
"But why would the person who was obtaining the weapons want to ice the broker?" Isabella asked. "And why kill him before the mirror sale was completed. Seems to me the supplier needed Sloan just as much as Caitlin and Julian did."
"That may have changed," Fallon said. "Arms dealing is a dangerous line of work. Lot of tough competition. We can assume that the supplier concluded that he no longer needed Sloan and that the broker had become a liability."
"Sloan was the one person with a direct connection to the supplier," Max said. "With the broker out of the picture, there is no one who can identify the person who provided the weapons to him. I agree with you, Fallon. Sloan's death was no coincidence. The supplier was severing all connections in preparation for firing up a new business arrangement."
"But what about the mirror?" Isabella said. "It was worth a lot of money and it was good as lost in the Vantara mansion."
"Looks like in the grand scheme of things, the mirror was no longer important," Fallon said. "The loss of the artifact was minor collateral damage."
Max leaned back in his chair. "Which makes you wonder what the supplier's new business arrangements look like."
"Yes," Fallon said. "It does. It also makes you wonder what he plans to sell next."
Isabella shivered. "Whoever it is must think he can make a lot more money with his new partners than he could with Caitlin and Julian."
Fallon contemplated Max. "Keeping an eye on Garrett and identifying the client who commissioned him to acquire the mirror is your problem. You know the paranormal black market better than anyone, including me. The supplier, however, is a J&J problem."
"I agree," Max said. "The Quicksilver Mirror came out of an Arcane museum. It probably wasn't the first artifact that Phillips and Garrett got from that source."
"Got a hunch someone has been cleaning out the museum basements for a while," Fallon said. "Easy to see how it could happen. The Society has been collecting for more than four hundred years. Like most museums, most of the collection is in storage. Who would notice if occasionally a couple of items went missing?"
"I'll leave the problem of identifying the supplier to you, Jones." Max sat forward. "Been meaning to ask you, where did you get the black eye? You look like you fell off a cliff."
Fallon touched his ribs and winced. "Feels like it, too."
Max opened the bottom drawer of his desk and took out a bottle of whiskey. "Try some of this stuff. Good for what ails you."
"Thanks." Fallon eyed the bottle. "I believe I will."
"Hold it right there." Isabella held up a hand. "Is this some kind of male bonding ritual?"
"It's what colleagues in the investigation business do occasionally when they are working a case together," Max said.
"Got it." Isabella smiled. "Pour me a glass as long as you're at it. I'm in the investigation business, too, remember?"
Fallon smiled his rare smile. "Not likely to forget."
FALLON'S PHONE RANG just as they walked out the front door of the office tower. Isabella waited while he took the call.
"Dargan. What have you got for me? Right. No surprise. I thought that might be it. You're done. Send us the bill. What do you mean, who is us? I've got a new full-time assistant and investigator. I'm not the only one in the office anymore."
He closed the phone.
"Dargan ID'd the Messenger's client?" Isabella asked.
"Carolyn Austin. Jenny's mother."
30
Walker finished a circuit around the gas station and garage. All was well. He walked past Stokes's Grocery, turned right and started to work his way back through town, following the usual pattern of his rounds.
It was three in the morning. Every window was dark, even the one on the second floor of Jones & Jones.
Fallon Jones and Isabella Valdez were still out of town. Walker was worried about them. The pressure in his head told him that they were in danger but there was nothing he could do except guard the office and Isabella's apartment. Jones would take good care of Isabella, he told himself. Jones was strong.
He walked past the inn and then went around behind Seaweed Harvest. Methodically he checked out the backyards, parking areas and garbage cans behind the shops. You never knew what you were going to find in the trash.
The pressure in his head rose suddenly when he went past the back of the Sunshine. He walked faster, letting the pressure guide him. He was on the road that led to the highway now. He rarely walked this far beyond the town limits. He searched the shadows on either side of the pavement with his special vision.
He spotted the dark, hulking outline of the SUV parked in the trees alongside the road. The headlights were off. As he watched, a man and a woman opened the doors and got out. They started walking through the trees, heading toward town. The man led the way, moving with an easy confidence that indicated he, too, possessed a special kind of vision. The woman, however, stumbled and came to a halt.
"Not so fast," she said. "I know you can see where you're going, but I can't."
"I'll guide you." The man moved back to take her hand.
Outsiders, Walker thought. They did not belong in the Cove.
He started toward the vehicle, walking very fast now.