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Authors: Shannon Mayer

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Maria

s eyes were still closed tight, her hands clasped in front of her, her lips moved soundlessly. Praying
,
most likely
. Most
parents, even the non-believers
,
prayed for their missing children to be returned
.
I could still see my parents praying for Berget
,
though they

d never stepped foot in a church.
The couch creaked as I stood.

Anything else I should know about India before I go? Even the insignificant could be important.

I wanted them to tell me what I

d already guessed. Wanted for them to come clean. But already they were withdrawing, the guilt of hiding what might help showing,
they were
too afraid to say out loud
what
was written all over their drawn and haggard faces. I pressed my lips together and started out of the room toward the front entrance, my boots clacking on the cheap linoleum.


Wait.

Maria

s voice and the shuffling of papers called me back. I paused and glanced over my shoulder. Maria stood
, her clothes hanging off her petite frame
, her hands clenching a stack of paper.


Don

t! She doesn

t need to see those.

Don appeared in the doorway and reached for the rumpled stack.


And if we don

t, and she can

t find India, what then? Do you really think she

ll come back a second time when we

ve withheld information?

Her voice was sharp
,
and Don shrank back from her sudden outburst. Perhaps she wasn

t the vapid twink I

d originally pegged her for.

Maria held the papers out to me again. I reached for them, felt the static charge race up my arm at the first touch of skin to paper.
These were more than simple paper
;
they held the weight of a child

s burgeoning abilities.

The drawing on top was simple and reflected the pictures of India in my pocket
:
A stick girl with dark red hair
and
a circle drawn beside her head, a child

s rendition of the orb in the pictures. The girl in the drawing was smiling. That was a good sign. As I flipped through the remainder of the stack, I quickly realized India wasn

t only in trouble because she was missing; her powers were coming into their own earlier than they should have been
,
and they were beginning to drown her out. Each subsequent picture had an additional circle
,
and by the last picture
,
the little stick girl was covered by them, her face no longer smiling.


She started drawing these the moment she could hold a crayon. Circles, always circles.

Maria wrung her hands, and then fluttered them toward me.

We didn

t know what to do. Do you really think you can find her?

I held her gaze, knowing if she saw me look away at that moment
,
she would never completely believe me, she wouldn

t trust me to find India. Without that trust, I would have the cops on my ass the whole way through this case and that was the last thing I needed. They

d just get in the way. Again.


Yes, I can find her. There hasn

t been a case yet where I haven

t.

Liar liar pants on fire
,
Rylee
, my inner voice mocked me
,
hard
.

Handing the drawings back to Maria, I asked,

Is there anything else I need to know?

Maria shook her head and clutched the pictures to her chest.


She likes tigers. Cats, a
ll
kind
s
of cats.

Don came up behind his wife and placed his hands on her shoulders.

And she loves to braid things, hair, thread, yarn. Even paper.

I let him talk; let him think he was helping. Maria caught my eye and I shook my head

no need to cut him off at the knees. She gave the briefest of nods
,
and for a moment I felt a mild connect
ion with the woman
,
but
I immediately pushed
it
away.
I didn

t like getting attached to the parents
.
I was here for the kid, not them. Besides, the lack of attachment made it easier to be the bearer of bad news, which did happen more often than I liked.


You have the account number to deposit the down payment?

I already
knew
the answer.

Maria nodded.

Half now, half when you bring her home.

Yup, that was me, taking money to find people

s kids
;
but at least I did that, I was no charlatan taking money for hope and never delivering.

I left them holding onto each other, watching me

their only hope to regain their daughter

walk down the carpeted hallway and step into the stairwell. I didn

t wave
,
and neither did they.

 

2

 

Besides the cool
, constantly blowing wind that was North Dakota
waiting for me to step outside, there were also two FBI agents. My usual stalker, O

Shea
,
and what appeared to be another new partner. Imagine that. Considering O

Shea

s lack of people skills
,
it was no surprise. He went through partners like a woman changes her clothes.


Adamson.

O

Shea barked at me.

I flinched at the use of my surname, a name I didn

t use anymore. Not since I

d started searching for kids nearly ten years ago.

His partner, a shorter version of O

Shea, I barely noticed. No angry vibes coming off that one. With O

Shea as his partner, I suspected he was taking a regular dose of Adavan just to get through the day. I would be, if I were in his shoes.


What?

M
y distant teenage persona
came
to the surface
with the snap back
. He
really
brought out the best in me. He didn

t look like your typical Irishman, with his dark eyes and hair. But his temper fit.
Standing at least 6

3, he was one of very few men able to intimidate me. And it wasn

t just his height, or the size of his muscled body, it was the history between us. For ten years he

d been trying to pin murder charges on me, and for ten years I

d stayed free. It rub
bed
him the wrong way for some reason.

Milly
, my closest friend and confidant,
long ago suggested I try flirting with him, to freak him out and throw him off his game. Lately I

d been considering it. I

d tried just about everything else and I really just wanted him off my case. Milly insisted it would work
,
and since s
h
e was the sex goddess in our duo, I could probably take her word for it. Problem was I wasn

t sure I could pull it off.


I know what you

re doing. Stay the hell out of FBI business or I

ll have you up on charges so fast even your ditzy little head will spin
,

O

Shea said,
using his height to loom over me, like
a
bully on a playground trying to intimidate the little kids. Wrong chick to pull that move on, you’d think he would have learned that by now.


Tell me something
,

I said,
acting
totally unimpressed
, hiding my nerves
.

If this is just a regular case, just a kid gone missing, why is the illustrious FBI on it?

I strolled to my Jeep, the two men following a few feet behind me.

Could it be that unlike most people whose children go missing, this family has money and can buy the really good help?

I looked over my shoulder to see their reactions to my words.

Both agents flushed at the implication. Mini-Me stepped into the ring next
, ready for his shot at me
.

The FBI can

t be bought
,
Ms. Adamson.


Really?

I smiled at him sweetly, turning to face the men, my hand on the Jeep

s handle.

That

s not what I heard. In fact, I heard when you

ve got lots of money or fame, that

s when the FBI steps in.

I paused
, took my hand off the door and shook my head
.

Glory hounds seeking the spoils of others

sorrow.

So much for flirting.

O

Shea stepped close and held my door closed, once more looming over me. I didn

t often feel small, but this close to him I felt like a child. The same child he

d met nearly ten years ago.

Adamson, one of these days I

m going to find out how you did it, how you made your little sister disappear. And when I do, all this vigilante shit of yours will stop because I

ll make sure you

re in jail for a very,
very
long time. You

re not fooling me. I know who

s to blame for your sister

s death. We may not have a body, but one day soon, you

re going to slip up.

My jaw tightened and tears threatened
to show themselves
. I would
not
let him see me cry
,
damn it
. After all these years, he was the only one who could bring me this close to tears
.

And when I do, you

ll be there, right? You

ll be there to slip the noose over my neck and watch me swing?

He growled an obscenity and suddenly
,
we were nose to nose
;
Mini-Me was in the background muttering about people starting to stare.


You

d think the FBI would like a little help finding kids and returning them to their families
,

I said
, holding my ground
.


Not when they

re dead!

He hissed at me, hot minty breath flooding my nose. That had been the last kid. I

d found him, but it had been too late. The family was grateful to have closure. The FBI and local police, not so much. It

s a little difficult to explain a werewolf attack to people who have no idea the monsters are real.
Of course, there had been other kids that hadn

t made it home alive, but I didn

t tell O

Shea.
N
o need to
point
out
that detail
.

BOOK: Priceless
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ads

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