Wildfire (28 page)

“And so we have Henry.” Triumph burst through like fireworks
painting the night sky, then faded. “Wait, if Henry could almost control me,
why isn’t he having better luck getting people in Paradise Valley to sell to
him?”

Her mother leaned her head back on the couch and stared at
the ceiling. “Henry’s hold on you broke when Jack interrupted, right?”

“Yes.” Lynn wondered where her mother was leading. Her pulse
ratcheted up. Had Dr. Mom
guessed about her
and Jack’s weird mental connection?

“Again, hypothetically speaking,” Ayako said. “Maybe sharing
the same genes, or at least some of the genes, makes one family member immune
to another.”

“So Jack can resist Henry.”

Placing her hand on her knees, Ayako struggled off the
couch. “Given what you’ve told me, maybe anybody with Callaghan blood would be
resistant, or at least have some level of resistance.”

Now if she could just call up an army of legitimate and
illegitimate Callaghans. Henry would so not be a threat. Lynn gave a weary
shake of her head.

The shrill tones of her cell phone cut the air. Lynn leapt
up and ran for her backpack. Fumbling, she pulled out the phone and brought it
to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hi Lynn, it’s me.” Jen’s voice quavered like a bird
shivering in the cold.

“What’s wrong?”

“Henry’s got Timmy and me.” The words almost got swallowed
by a sob.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Whispers in the background.

Lynn’s dragon clawed at flesh and skin, wanting out.

“He— he wants you to return to Paradise Valley.” Jen
hiccupped. “Now.”

“Okay. How am I going to contact him once I get there?”

More whispers filled a long, terrible moment.

“Hi Lynn.” A smoother, more dangerous voice filed down the
line, turning her blood cold. “Don’t make the mistake of calling the police.
Come alone. I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

Anger hissed in her breath. “Don’t you dare hurt them.”

A smug laugh. “Are you really in any position to make
threats?”

She drew in a deep breath. Let it out. “What do you want?”

“I’ll contact you.” A quick click, and the phone went dead.

Lynn ran back to the main house to grab her car keys. Her
mother fluttered behind, caught up in her old panic. She wanted to stop and
comfort her mom, she wanted to say goodbye to her dad, but adrenaline whipped her
on. She needed to be in Paradise Valley.

“Why can’t you just call the police and tell them to take
care of it?”

“He said not to call the police.” Lynn pushed through front
door.

“You don’t have to listen to him.” Her mother sounded near
tears. “Is this that mind control thing?”

Lynn stopped and searched the small shelf in the hall. Where
had she put her keys? “No, but I don’t want to rile Henry up even more.”

“He sounds dangerous,” her mother wailed, following her into
the kitchen.

The keys lay on the kitchen table. Lynn snagged them and
turned to face her mother. “Don’t worry, I’ll take a Callaghan with me.”

“But he told you to come alone.”

“You just told me not to listen to him.”

Mother and daughter stared at each other.

Lynn smiled, not a happy smile but an understanding one.
“And you told me that my surviving the fire was a good thing because I was
helping Jen and others,” she said. “I have to do this.”

Ayako sighed, then leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
“Be careful.”

Chapter
30

Flyers with Timmy and Jen’s smiling faces greeted Lynn from
light posts and shop fronts as Lynn drove into Paradise Valley. The word
“MISSING” printed in bold block letters. Lynn stopped at the
San Angelo
Herald.

She paused by the mail slots and absorbed the hum of
activity— the cheerful chatter of several conversations going at once, the
constant but discordant clicks of the keyboards and rings of telephones, the
rush of people in pursuit of stories. The noise and energy washed over her in a
warm welcome.

The knots inside her loosened a bit. Lynn emptied her overstuffed
mail slot into her backpack and made a beeline for Missy’s blonde head.

As she approached, the cop reporter looked up, then jumped
out of her chair to hug her. “You’re back! How’s your dad?”

“Fine, thanks. What do you know about Jen and Timmy?”

Sadness shaded Missy’s face. “I’m so sorry, first your dad
and now your best friend.” She sighed. “They went missing sometime yesterday.
No one got worried, until they failed to return to have dinner with the Jarvis
family at six. They tried calling Jen, but no answer. Some kids later found her
cell phone in a ditch by the Lone Wolf Bridge and turned it in to the Sheriff.”

Lynn tugged at her lower lip. “Any suspects?”

Missy turned and messed around with some papers on her desk.
“Just Jen.”

“What?”

Missy lifted her chin and shrugged. “Well, the cops haven’t
found any evidence of foul play. She could have lost the phone, or chucked it.
The car’s gone too. And Timmy was last seen with her.”

“Crap.” Feeling lightheaded, Lynn sat down in Missy’s chair.
“What’s being done?”

“The Sheriff’s put out a BOLO.”

Lynn craned her neck. “A what?”

“Be On the Look Out notice,” Missy explained. “The volunteer
fire department, San Angelo police and fire, DPS and community volunteers are
all searching.”

“What about Jack?”

Missy scrounged up her face in thought. “Can’t say I’ve
noticed him, but I’ve also been mega busy.” She shrugged. “He’s bound to be in
the thick of things. He always is.”

That’s exactly what she was worried about. Henry was a Callaghan.
Did he want revenge on the family? If so, was Jack in danger? Or had the two
been playing her and the rest of Paradise Valley? Doubts picked at her mind.

Lynn thanked Missy and said goodbye.

Despite the dread curling her intestines, she headed for
Jen’s place. The cottage looked orphaned without her colorful friend. Lynn
parked the car and found her cell phone. Turning it silent, she pressed 9-1-1
and kept her finger poised over the send button. Then she slid out of the car
and approached the porch with measured steps. She didn’t want to be surprised.

The smell of dragon musk and old cigarettes stained the air,
making the hair along her arms bristle. She stopped and glanced around. Nothing
out of the ordinary caught her attention. Finally, she stepped onto porch and
marched to the door.

The sense of danger thickened, but she pushed through it and
stared at Jen’s doormat.

Henry had left her a message.

The word “welcome” spelled out in cigarette butts.

Lynn stumbled backwards and almost ran off the porch. At the
last moment, her anger kicked in and held her steady. She would beat Henry.
She’d get Jen and Timmy back. Somehow, some way. She snapped a picture of the
message with her cell phone and emailed it to her newspaper account. Nothing
wrong with extra precautions.

Still holding her phone at the ready, she glanced around
again at the late afternoon shadows. Nothing. Sighing, she shrugged her
backpack off and found tissues and plastic bags. Then she squatted and
collected evidence.
Déjà vu
hit her, reminding her of a similar moment
at Jack’s house. Had Henry been skulking there too? Or had he been on a smoke break
in between scheming with Jack?

Hurriedly, she stuffed everything in her pack, zipped it
closed and shouldered it. Then, lurching to her feet, she stared at the door.
Did more surprises wait for her inside?

After a deep breath, she unlocked the door and pushed it
open. The familiar sitting room with Jen’s comfy couch and chair, colorful cushions
and scatter of magazines seemed tinged with menace. Leaving the door open, she
tiptoed through the house.

She searched through every room, under every piece of
furniture. Nothing had been disturbed until she’d arrived on the scene. No
surprises, no clues, no more messages. Disappointed, she locked the front door,
slipped her phone into the backpack and headed to the kitchen. A cup of tea
would help her think as she considered her options.

Turning on the faucet, she leaned against the sink and
watched the rush of water spiral down the drain. Tension sucked her energy just
as fast and left her depleted. She washed her hands and put the kettle on the
stove.

Might as well do something useful while she waited for the
water to boil. She slumped into the kitchen chair and pulled out the unread
mail from her backpack. The first few turned out to be advertisements, and
those landed in the trash. The press releases went into a To Be Read pile. Her
fingers stopped sorting when she came across a thick manila envelope from the
county clerk’s office. The cell phone records. She’d have to compliment
Martha’s fast turnaround next time they met.

Her pulse zipped as she tore open the envelope and pulled
out the sheaf of papers. She flipped through them, scanning the entries for Mike
Ward’s call. She found several calls made to a San Antonio number. While Hope
Development didn’t pop up, it could be someone’s private line.
Finally, she found the date she’d jotted down and
the number the commissioner had called at 7:05 p.m. Lynn grabbed a pen from her
backpack and circled the entry.

She lugged out the heavy cross directory of the area Jen
kept by the phone and searched the listings in Paradise Valley. Her finger
stopped as she found the match. The directory listed Katherine Harrington as
the owner of the number. The queen of Paradise Valley.

Adrenaline arrowed through her, similar to the quivering
excitement her dragon felt on the hunt, but different. A more intellectual
thrill triggered by the name. Recognition that she’d found a crucial link,
another piece of the puzzle. But how was Kate linked to Henry and the
developers? Lynn slipped the papers back into the envelope and replaced it in
the safety of her backpack. Her treasure chest.

Lynn’s fingers brushed against something cool and soft.
Curious, she grabbed the thing and tugged it out.
Obaa-chan’s
journal
from the apartment.

She stared at the sky blue silk cover and hesitated, not
wanting to read her grandmother’s private thoughts. What if she discovered
something awful —like she’d disappointed
Obaa-chan
by her slowness to
embrace her inner dragon, her clumsiness in the
dojo
or air, or in a
myriad of other little ways. Or worse, she might have to face all her
grandmother’s love and dreams for her and know, in the end, she’d failed.

The kettle whistled, granting her reprieve from her
thoughts. She fixed herself some soothing green tea and headed back to the
table. She opened the journal and flipped through until she found the entries
from the month of
Obaa-chan’s
death. She would start with the most
recent and work her way backwards. Maybe she’d find some clue to her
grandmother’s state of mind, some explanation about what she’d been doing at
that warehouse located in Houston’s port area. Not the usual hangout for little
old ladies. Even dragon ones.

Inhaling the fragrant steam, Lynn began reading. Instead of
a depressed mind or a delusional one, she found one charged with excitement.
Her grandmother had found a young dragon. A misguided dragon needing direction.

A twinge of jealousy and regret pierced through her. Had her
grandmother replaced her? Around that time, she’d been so focused on work and
climbing the corporate ladder, she’d cut down on her visits. Could she blame
Obaa-chan
for finding a substitute? She wrapped her hands around the warm cup. No, even
if she’d lived right next door still,
Obaa-chan
would have taken the
stray under her wings. That would be just like her.

Lynn sipped her tea and pictured her grandmother’s most
protective mother hen instincts taking over. She continued reading, keeping an
eye for a name to pop up. Why didn’t she call him by his name?

The diary revealed her grandmother’s ideas about dragon
obligations and duties, the dangers of power without understanding, the
importance of sharing wisdom and support through mentorship. Of course, she’d
heard these ideas before, been lectured on them time and time again. She smiled
and bet this other young dragon got lectured too. Soon the journal proved her
right.

Obaa-chan
seemed happy that Henry—

Her heart slammed up from her chest and into her throat, and
a wave of nausea followed right behind. Lynn blinked and read the name again.
Henry. Shit, shit, shit. She forced herself to read on. Henry, at the start
wary and disbelieving, seemed to be thawing, listening and responding. She had
hopes for this one, including introducing him one day to Lynn. Apparently
besides being a mentor, she’d been considering a matchmaking role too.

A shudder of dread passed through her as she remembered being
stuck with Henry in his truck. She pushed on. The text switched to a darker,
tenser tone. Shorter sentences. Agitated words pressed deep into paper.

Her grandmother had been worried. She’d sensed fire and
sensed the young dragon at the center of it. He’d promised her he wouldn’t
prostitute his talents and dragon powers anymore. He’d been so eager to start
learning from her, though the first meditation session had seemed to
disappoint. Yet, she felt it in her blood that he’d regressed. The last time
they had spoken his words had smelled of lies. After sleeping on it, she knew
she had to confront him.

That was the last entry.

Oh God, could her grandmother’s Henry be the very same Henry
Callaghan Chase?
Lynn slammed the book shut
and leapt from the chair, tipping over the half empty cup in the process. Cold
tea soaked through her t-shirt turning her skin as cool as her insides. Henry
was a young dragon, a misguided one, and from Houston.

She cleaned up the mess, then rushed to her room and changed
shirts. Grabbing her car keys, she headed out the door. Time to find Jack.