Mist on the Meadow (27 page)

“Would you believe it was a lucky guess?”

“No. Do you mind if I come in for a
while?”

Marissa stepped aside, but Don waved her
through. She locked the door behind him and flipped on the lights
in the kitchen. “We can talk while I bake. Do you want to sit
down?”

He shook his head and adjusted the volume on
the squawkbox at his shoulder. “Are you really a psychic?” he asked
again.

Marissa hesitated. They didn’t burn witches
at the stake anymore, did they? “My uncle seemed to think so. Did
you find the ring?”

Don nodded.

“And?”

He cracked a smile. “Did everything just like
you told me. She said yes.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“We’ve worked with psychics at the department
before, and I don’t necessarily believe in all that, but we could
help each other out, you know?”

Marissa booted up the computer in her small
office and navigated to the catering page. As expected, several
orders had been placed online overnight. She scanned them before
she clicked to print them and lined up her ingredients. “I’m not
sure I understand. Didn’t I already help you out?”

Don nodded. “Yep. So you can help me to help
you.”

Marissa narrowed her eyes. “I don’t get
it.”

“The guy who broke into the café. We can’t
find him. If you’re psychic, you could figure out where he went.
And if I was the one to bring him in, it would be a feather in my
cap, plus it would solve your case, hopefully, and then your
boyfriend wouldn’t have to worry about you opening the place alone
every morning.”

Marissa set her hands on the work table and
met Don’s eyes, smiling gray eyes. “My boyfriend?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to
elaborate.

“Wolf Harper, ma’am.”

She knew who he meant, of course, but she
didn’t realize Wolf had requested reinforcements.

“I appreciate what you did for me,” he said.
“I’d be happy to return the favor, if I could.”

Don’s ring was another validation of her
legacy, at least for now. Could she
know
who’d broken into
the café? More importantly, did she want to? “Don’t you have rounds
to make or something? I don’t want to keep you from your
duties.”

“I’m following up on a lead with a breaking
and entering case,” he replied with a stupid smile on his face.
“Solving the case might help me get promoted.”

She pushed him toward the door. “Maybe later?
I have work to do.”

“How long are you working today?”

Marissa scanned the orders one more time. “A
few hours.”

“I could give you a lift home when you’re
done?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

Don left through the back door and Marissa
returned to her baking. She couldn’t resist a glance at the parking
lot, watching the police cruiser leave.

What if the guy that tried to blow up the
café didn’t want to be found?

Marissa closed her eyes and put a hand to her
stomach. The odds were against pregnancy, and yet the cells
continued to grow. A tumor could account for the physiological as
well as the psychological changes.
But she knew
. Marissa
shook her head. She must have been insane to seduce a man she
barely knew.

Until she could make sense of what was
happening, she couldn’t expect Wolf to.

Love isn’t supposed to make sense
.

She glanced out the front window once more at
the now empty parking lot. Marissa was baking a chocolate cake, but
she smelled cinnamon.

Even if Marissa knew his uncle had broken
into her apartment, she couldn’t blame Wolf for that, could she?
Christmas had given her a first-hand look into the family
dynamics.

This was exactly the type of relationship
he’d been trying to avoid. Marissa had not only gotten inside his
head, she’d taken up residence in his heart. Wolf Harper, the guy
who’d laughed at people when they said stupid things like, “when
you know, you know,” about finding the ‘right’ woman.

The expressway into Cooper Village was
deserted at this hour of the morning on New Year’s Day. The drive
provided Wolf with time to think.

He could go to the café. Ask her how she was
doing.
And by the way, do you know it was my uncle who broke
into your apartment?
The café would be closed for the holiday,
and he wasn’t about to go to her parents’ house. Her father
probably already thought Wolf was a crazed stalker.

What good was running an electronics company
if you couldn’t occasionally use the toys you made? Chuck had
Elliot’s cell phone number. If Elliot had GPS activated on his
phone, wouldn’t the police be able to track that? Elliot didn’t
appear to be too terribly bright if he’d allowed himself to be
caught on camera not only at Harper Electronics but also attempting
to blow up the café, assuming it was Elliot at the café.

You know I can’t comment on an ongoing
investigation
, Don had told him.

Wolf walked into Harper Manor and found Chuck
planted in front of the television, a beer in one hand, the game
controller in the other. He looked like he hadn’t been to bed
yet.

“What?” Chuck continued to stare at the video
game.

Wolf held out his hand. “Cell phone.”

“Why?”

Wolf raised an eyebrow. Chuck didn’t ask
again. He handed over the phone.

Wolf scrolled through his recent calls until
he found Elliot’s name and then hit redial. The number went
straight to voicemail. That answered one question. The police
couldn’t find him if the phone was turned off. Wolf fought the urge
to throw Chuck’s cell phone at the wall and, instead, returned it
to his cousin.

Control.

Chuck checked the display on his phone before
he turned off the television. “Rudy wanted to go to the police the
night it happened, you know. Elliot swore us to secrecy.”

“I get that.” Wolf gritted his teeth. “Rudy
stopped by to see me at the office.”

“There’s a rumor that the Bears are going to
cut him.”

“They were probably going to do that anyway,”
Wolf said. “Tell me how we find Elliot.”

Chuck grinned. The fat bastard looked like a
Buddha sitting cross-legged on the floor. “The game.”

“The game?”

“He plays an online grand theft game. I play,
too, but I don’t think he knows it’s me.” Chuck reached for his
electronic tablet and swiped his way to a scoreboard.

Wolf’s pulse rate quickened. They might be
able to trace an IP address. “Did you tell the police?”

“I only just remembered,” Chuck said.

Wolf dialed his own cell phone. “Don? How
good is your crime lab? Do you have computer geeks who can trace an
IP address? My cousin says Elliot Bederman is a regular on an
internet game.”

“We have to use the county offices for that
stuff,” he replied. “I could get the ball rolling.”

Chuck looked up from his tablet. “He’s not
logged on right now, but I can trace him when he does.”

“I’ll call you back,” Wolf told Don.

“He might not log on for days.” Chuck grunted
as he rose to his feet.

“How often does he play?”

“Well, every day, usually, but if he’s on the
run—”

“He’s going to play more because he’s got
nothing else to do. Isn’t that what gamers do?”

Chuck waved Wolf up the stairs, to the
bedroom he’d commandeered, where he had a desktop computer set up
to two monitors. He sat down at the desk and brought the game up on
one while the second showed code.

“I don’t think he knows who I am in the
game.” Chuck concentrated on the code. “The only reason I know it’s
him is because I found a back way in.”

Wolf crossed his arms. “Are you telling me
you’re a hacker?”

Chuck shrugged. “Had to learn something in
college.”

Wolf watched over Chuck’s shoulder while he
wrote the capture code. “You do realize what you’re doing might be
considered illegal?”

“I’m sending him a message in the game. If he
clicks on the link, it’ll tell us where he is. That’s not
illegal.”

“What’s his user name?”

“DockGhost.” Chuck scanned both screens.
“He’s not logged in right now.”

Wolf smiled. Chuck knew what he was doing. He
slapped Chuck on the shoulder. “Nice job.” He pointed to the
screen. “That right there. That’s the link that’ll track him down,
right?”

Chuck beamed. “Yep. And then we can trace his
IP address. Of course then we have to hope we’re at least close. It
might not give us any more than the provider.”

“And all this time I thought you only knew
how to play the games. You could have been helping me write code
and earning your paycheck.”

Chuck toggled screens. “I developed a game,
you know. Maybe I can help bring Harper Electronics back to
life.”

Damn. Chuck might not be so worthless after
all.

Marissa locked the café and checked the
parking lot one more time. Officer Don never came back. Wolf hadn’t
put in an appearance, either. Not that he should have.

She sloshed through the streets to the
extended stay hotel. If she had the ability to find things and/or
people, she might as well try.

She unlocked the hotel room and wished she
could go home to her apartment, but she didn’t dare. What if
someone tried to break in while she was there?

Hex raced across the floor and jumped onto
the back of the loveseat in the living area, purring loudly.

She shed her coat and set down her purse
before she rubbed his ears. Darn cat made her think of Wolf—and
miss him. Hex nudged her hand with his head and chirped his half
purr, half meow.

“All right, all right,” she said. Marissa
picked Hex up. She settled him into her lap and stroked his
fur.

Hex hunkered down in her lap, his ears back
while a low growl came from his throat. A door slammed nearby,
likely one of her neighbors returning home.

There is danger here. Go to your
apartment,
a voice whispered from an unseen corner in the room.
Protect the child.

The hairs on Marissa’s arms stood up. Where
was Officer Don now? Or Wolf, for that matter. Would she be safer
in her apartment? The maintenance man had installed a new lock,
after all.

Hex resumed purring, a quiet rumble instead
of his usual loud vibrato. “I’ll go home,” she told Hex, “but I
need to figure this out.” She continued to stroke his fur and the
purring intensified. Whatever had frightened him seemed to have
subsided.

Don Walker had asked her to help find the man
who’d broken into the café. Could she do it? Marissa took a deep
breath and closed her eyes. She envisioned the café. The rear door.
The oven that had been tampered with.

A man in a dark room holding a game
controller, staring at a dimmed computer monitor, his features
indistinguishable.

The room had a bed, a smaller version of the
room Marissa was in. “I don’t need any more trouble,” the man said
to another shadow.

Light glinted off silver hair. The second
man wore a suit. “You’ve already got trouble,” he said. “Finish the
job.”

“
They’re looking for me. I won’t get
within five feet of her.”

The man in the suit turned off the monitor.
“Who says you have to?”

Marissa gasped for breath, both hands wrapped
around Hex, who continued to purr.

* * *

Staring at the computer screen, waiting,
wasn’t going to make Elliot sign on any faster. Wolf pushed away
from the desk. There had to be something else he could do. As much
as he hated to admit it, Chuck had done good. Elliot might not sign
on, but with the trace set, they’d know when he did.

Wolf had decisions to make, starting with
Harper Manor. Ralph had raised a good point. Should he sell? Or
should he sell his condo in the city? Wolf looked at the crown
molding circling the ceiling, at the oak baseboards around the
floor. Harper Manor. The house represented family, every bit as
much as Harper Electronics.

His place in the city was cold, austere.
A
place to assert his independence
. From what? He didn’t have any
family left.

I can help
, Ralph had said. Do what?
Wolf shook his head. It didn’t matter. Over the past fourteen
months, Ralph had been more like family than his blood relatives.
Wolf cradled his head in his hands and squeezed his eyes
closed.

I can help
.

Wolf needed help. He stared at his cell phone
and thumbed through his contact list until he found Ralph’s name. A
minute later, Ralph answered.

“Help what?” Wolf asked.

“Excuse me?”

“You said you could help.”

Ralph chuckled. “Didn’t think you were paying
attention.”

“Help what?” he repeated.

“Sell your place. My niece is a real estate
agent. I can get you the family rate.”

Wolf rubbed his forehead. So many details to
iron out first, but even if the legalities prevented him from
inheriting Harper Manor, or buying it—whichever—he didn’t need his
hideout in the city any more. “Okay,” he said.

“What’s going on, Wolf? You don’t sound like
yourself.”

Wolf shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“And the
Kundigerin
thing? Is that
going to help? Or was that your grandmother wandering?”

Marissa had demystified the accident. How
much Uncle Pete knew was yet to be discovered, but Wolf figured he
could use the information he had as leverage in asserting his claim
to Harper Manor. “That remains to be seen, but if nothing else, her
information provides a clearer picture.”

“Her. Marissa is your
Kundigerin
?”

She’d been reluctant to acknowledge it. Was
it meant to be kept secret? He considered what she’d told him, that
she was an “expert.” Ralph wouldn’t know anything beyond that,
would he? “Yes,” he said.