Eternal (12 page)

 

Chapter Thirteen

Five minutes—down to the second. That's how long Burnett paced Holiday's office. She knew because she and Chase were facing the wall clock, and instead of getting dizzy watching him, she watched the clock hands tick away. It was almost nine in the morning, and she hadn't been to bed yet.

“Why?” Burnett finally spoke, walking from one side of the room to the other. Good thing he'd brought them to Holiday's office—his office offered no room to pace.

“Why what?” Della asked, trying not to sound like a smartass, but the question rolled off her tongue with sass.

He growled. “Why do I give orders if you guys don't listen? And why would I allow you to work with the FRU if you can't follow orders?”

“Because the death angels and some unnamed ghost have made it their job to make sure we do this.” Della inhaled.

A second later, and in a calmer voice, she explained about seeing the names on the back of the picture, and how when Chase showed up it seemed like the ghost wanted her to go with him.

“You don't work for the ghost! You work for the FRU, and I tell you what to do!”

“I don't work for the FRU,” Chase countered.

Della inwardly flinched, wishing he wouldn't push Burnett.

“So, you don't want to work with Della on this case?” Burnett snapped. “Because you can walk right out of here and I'll make sure you don't see her again.”

“Say what?” Della let out a low, hot puff of air. “Since when—”

Chase barged ahead. “I'm just saying that as of right now, I'm not required to follow your orders.”

Burnett countered. “I told you she had enough on her plate, to leave her alone. How difficult would it have been to do that?”

Chase's chin rose. “Difficult. We're bonded, and if she's in pain, I have to make sure she's okay. Would you not do it for Holiday?”

Say what?
Della glared at the guy. “Just because you gave me blood doesn't mean I need you to babysit me!”

“I didn't say you needed me,” Chase spit out. “I explained why I disobeyed the order—an order that I wasn't officially required to obey.” He looked back at Burnett as if bringing home his point one more time.

Della let out a hiss of air. “Well, you made it sound as if—”

“Like what?” Chase faced her. “We're bonded, when are you going to accept that?”

“Maybe never! I didn't ask to be bonded with you.”

“Stop!” Burnett fumed. “I'm the one who's mad here.”

“No,” Della snapped. “I'm mad, too. I don't like being used as leverage.” She glared at Burnett then at Chase. “And I don't like our being lumped in the same category as Burnett and Holiday. We're working a case. That's all!”

“Show me the picture,” Burnett snapped.

When Della and Chase sat there glaring at each other, Burnett repeated, “Show me the damn picture!”

Della drew in a deep, sobering breath and pulled the picture from the back of her jeans.

Burnett turned it over, looking for the names. Okay, so she'd neglected to mention the part about them disappearing.

“About that…” Della said. “The names, they … they sort of disappeared.”

Burnett looked at her with puzzled eyes. “How did they disappear?”

“I'm assuming the ghost did it.”

Burnett blinked. “You're telling me the ghost wrote the names on here and then erased them?”

“See?” Chase said. “I'm not the only one who found it hard to believe.”

Della so wanted to give Chase a serious sharp jab with her elbow. She settled for a kick in his shin.

He muttered an ugly word, and feeling slightly vindicated, she ignored him and kept her focus on Burnett.

“I don't know how she did it,” Della said. “But don't tell me it's impossible. You saw the box shaking, and how the lid flew off and the picture came out.”

Burnett leaned his butt back on Holiday's desk and wiped a hand over his face.

Della plunged ahead. “I think we should visit both sets of Natasha's parents and find out which one is our Natasha. The ghost gave me this picture as a clue, I have to follow it.”

Burnett glanced back at the picture. “Who is the older lady in the image?”

Della tensed. “My aunt.”

“Couldn't you just ask—?”

“No,” Della snapped.

Burnett studied her. “Why?”

“No.” She met his eyes and begged him to concede.

He exhaled. “Problem is, both these sets of parents think their daughters are dead. Showing up and asking questions is wrong.”

“We wouldn't ask questions. Just see if one of the parents is Asian. Since we know our Natasha is mixed.”

Burnett didn't appear convinced. “The parents could have divorced, or one of them died.”

“I know,” Della said. “But the photo was a clue and I think…” She hated saying it, but it had to be said. “It's what the ghost expects us to do.”

“What do you mean?” Burnett asked.

“I don't know. I just feel as if that's what she wants.” And she did.

Burnett muttered, “Shit.” He paused and then said, “I'll call and see if I can't get the case cleared immediately.” He squeezed the back of his neck. “I've already called to see if either a Natasha Owen or Natasha Brian had a driver's license. Neither did.”

Burnett looked at Della. “You go rest until I get clearance. You've been up since before three this morning and I doubt you even went to bed last night. You,” he looked at Chase, “go … wherever it is you go, and be prepared to hear from me. Meanwhile, I'll see if Derek can find anything about either of these girls on the computer. The ghost might want you to go around asking questions, but I for one don't love the idea.”

Della and Chase started out.

“One more thing,” Burnett said, and they turned around. “We think we know who Liam is.”

“How?” Chase asked. “There wasn't a file on him.”

“I know,” Burnett seethed, sounding as if he remembered Chase's breaking-and-entering oops. “But there was a missing person's report on file with the HPD—a Liam Jones went missing three weeks ago. The report says he'd come down with a serious flu then disappeared. He lived a few blocks from the Anthonys' funeral home.”

“So he was turned and somehow one of Anthony's goons got ahold of him,” Della said.

“That's the way it looks. I'd get another agent to look into it, but there were some problems in Dallas and several of our men are still cleaning up the mess there.”

“I want to work the case,” Della insisted. “The ghost wants me to work it.”

“Wants both of us to,” Chase said.

Burnett nodded. “I'll get Liam's information and pass it to you before you start.”

They turned again, and almost got out the door, when Burnett spoke out again. “Della? Can I have a second?”

Chase looked back, and frowned as if he didn't like being left out of the loop.

“Go!” Burnett informed him.

Chase shot her a glance good-bye before leaving. Della, suddenly uneasy, stepped back into Holiday's office.

Burnett listened to Chase leave before talking.

“Two things. First, is there an issue about your aunt that I should be aware of?”

Della frowned. “No. If I go to her and start asking questions, she'll tell my dad and it … it could cause problems.” Amazing how simple that sounded, and yet how badly it hurt. “My dad already has zero trust in me, so any suspicious behavior would only make me look like more of a drugged-out problem child.”

Burnett nodded, not really happy, but apparently satisfied. “The other thing.” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully.

“What?” she insisted, the pause killing her.

“When I called you earlier to inform you about the information we'd gotten on Liam and you didn't answer, I assumed you were with Steve. I called him and told him you had mentioned going to see him. I also told him that we had buried your cousin. He seemed upset that you hadn't told him. You might want to call him.”

She nodded. Her stomach rolled over. How she was going to explain this to Steve?
Oh, I was coming to see you, but Chase showed up, so I went to his cabin instead.

Oh, damn. It wouldn't matter that nothing had happened. She'd be hurting Steve again. What was her other option? Lie?

No, if he found out, it would only hurt him more. And he'd think she was hiding it because … because she was guilty. She wasn't guilty, so why was she drowning in the emotion right now?

Was it fair to keep doing this to him? The thought made breathing uncomfortable. But wasn't he doing it to her, too? He spent Monday through Thursday in the vet's office, working side by side with Jessie. Jessie, who wasn't bonded to Steve, but definitely had the hots for him.

Realizing Burnett stood staring at her while she indulged in her mini pity party, she took a backward step toward the door. “Thanks … I'll call him.”

She took off, her last words repeating in her head.
I'll call him. I'll call him.
And she would, just as soon as she figured out how the heck to explain why she hadn't gone to see him.

*   *   *

Della got halfway to her cabin then shifted off the trail and hid behind a clump of trees. She pulled out her phone. She had to make this right. Staring at her cell, she suddenly found it odd that he hadn't called her. If he knew she'd buried Chan, he'd have called to check on her. Not calling wasn't like Steve.

Was he already mad? Mad because she hadn't called him and told him she was burying her cousin? Or did he guess she'd been with Chase?
I didn't do anything!
She started preparing her not-guilty speech.

Dread built up in her chest when she realized that even if she hadn't done anything, the simple fact that she'd relied on Chase instead of Steve was still going to hurt him.

Her head told her what she needed to do—to let him go—but her heart refused to accept it.

She swallowed a knot of pain and it fell like a lump of dough in her stomach.

Taking a deep breath, her mind still dithering, she dialed his number.

It rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then it went to voice mail.

“Hey … I'm at Shadow Falls … Burnett said he called you and … Call me, okay?”

She shut her phone and closed her eyes for a second. Steve always answered her calls.

Maybe he was busy with a client. An emergency of some sort. A dog who'd swallowed a sock, a werewolf with a thorn in his paw. That's what she wanted to believe. What she would believe until … until she knew differently. She simply had too many real issues to start imagining one.

*   *   *

“Crappers! What did Burnett say?” Kylie asked.

“What did he say before or after he gave us royal hell?” Della asked, appreciating that her two roomies and best friends had skipped lunch to chat with her. Their sympathy and understanding was the only thing keeping her together sometimes.

“Yikes,” Miranda said. “Burnett's hell reminds me of my mother's pot roast, tough and hard to swallow.”

Della picked up her empty Diet Coke can and squeezed it into a little ball. She'd tried to sleep as Burnett ordered but had failed. In spite of feeling like an emotional wreck, she'd told them almost everything—about the werewolves at the graveyard, the vibrating box, the picture incident. She'd told them about Chase showing up, against Burnett's orders, and about her going to see the files at his cabin.

The thing she hadn't mentioned yet was all the Reborn stuff—that would have to wait for another day—too much spilling at one time could cripple a vampire.

She saw her phone sitting on the table and remembered she hadn't told them about Steve, either. But that was because there was nothing to tell. And yet the fact that several hours had passed and he hadn't called now pressed hard and heavy on her heart.

“So the names just completely disappeared?” Kylie asked, stuck on that, and with good reason—ghosts were Kylie's thing.

“Yeah,” Della said.

Kylie contemplated it. “I don't think they were ever really there.”

“I saw them,” Della insisted, thinking Kylie would be the last person to question this.

“I'm not saying you're lying, just that the ghost made you think you saw them. Like a vision of sorts. Were you feeling the ghost when you saw the names?”

Della remembered feeling the cold off and on while at the graveyard.

“Yeah.” She chewed on that a moment. “Does that make what I saw … less true?”

“Nah,” Kylie said. “Ghosts don't normally lie. Is Burnett going to let you go visit the parents?”

“As soon as he gets the okay from the FRU for us to work the case. He was supposed to call, but that was hours ago.” She glanced at her phone again and her mind went to the other call she waited on. The one from Steve.

Feeling her own heartache reminded her of hearing Miranda crying in the predawn hours.

Glancing at the witch, she asked, “Did you rescind your promise so you could tell us what's up?”

“Rescind what promise?” Kylie asked.

Della, all too willing to get the topic off of her issues and onto someone else's, focused on Kylie. “Our little witch is holding back.”

With them zeroing in on her, Miranda slunk down in her chair guiltily.

Della pointed at the witch. “She was up crying at three this morning, but said she couldn't spill what was wrong because she promised someone she wouldn't tell.”

“What's wrong, Miranda?” Concern laced Kylie's three words.

“I still can't talk about it. Not until…”

“Until what?” Della asked.

“Until someone else says something.” Miranda cut her eyes to Della.