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He stared at me for several heartbeats. “Detective Gillian, you are insane,” he declared at last. “I came back this morning to apologize for being an absolute ass last night. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.”
I smiled crookedly. “Really?”
He laughed. “Yes, really. Then I heard you screaming and busted my way in.”
I looked past him at my front door and could feel my jaw drop. The door hung twisted and broken, barely held by one hinge, and the frame was shattered, with wood fragments scattered throughout my foyer. “Holy shit, did you drive your car through the front door?”
He had the grace to look embarrassed. “I really did think something awful was happening to you.”
I laughed weakly. “Okay, that’s kinda sweet, in its own weird way. Even worth a destroyed door.” I stood, tugging my sweatshirt into place, then walked over to the remnants of the door. “But how did you do this?”
“I’m stronger than I look, okay?” he said, exasperation showing in his tone. “Kara?”
“Yes?”
He looked at me, head slightly tilted, eyes serious. “Did you summon last night after I left?”
“Not … exactly,” I said, after a brief consideration of how much to share with him. “But I did get some information about the runes. Come on, I need coffee, and I’ll explain.” I headed to the kitchen, trusting him to follow.
“Hold on, I’ll be right back,” he said instead, and exited out the ruined front door. He returned in a moment, carrying a white box, which he placed on the kitchen table. He gave a small shrug. “When you didn’t show up for the meeting this morning, I figured you were totally pissed at me, so I decided to bring by a peace offering.” He flipped open the lid to show a box full of chocolate doughnuts.
“How did you know?” I breathed, stomach growling in response as I picked one up.
His lips twitched. “I have ways.”
I gri
“So what’s the deal with the runes?”
I sat down, dabbing at spilled crumbs. “They’re runes of binding and control. I think that my suspicions are right—this guy is pla
Ryan sat across from me, his expression dark and brooding. “You mean it’s some kind of death magic?”
“In a ma
“No need to go into details. It would probably take too long for me to understand it, and I don’t really need to. So,” he said, looking at me levelly again, “how did you get this information?”
“That’s incredibly complicated. I just need you to trust me that I’m pretty sure my information is accurate.”
“Pretty sure?” His brow creased.
“Um, well, this is going to sound weird, but I kinda got the information in a dream.”
He blinked, then fell silent for a moment. Finally he shrugged. “Well, I figure there’s a whole lot here that I don’t understand, so I’m just going to have to trust you on this one.”
“Thanks. Like I said, I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I’m about ninety-eight percent, at least.”
“So, are you going to try again tonight to summon?”
“Well, it’s not as urgent now that I have the information about the runes.” I fought the desire to wince at the sudden realization that I was deliberately finding a reason to avoid summoning. That won’t do at all. But there wasn’t time right now to deal with this new neurosis of mine.
He looked at me for several heartbeats, then stood. “All right. Well, I need to be getting back to the office. We’re going to try to meet up again this afternoon at three.”
I nodded. “I’ll be there.”
He hesitated, as if wanting to say something else. Then he shook his head, gave me a smile, and departed through the gaping hole in the front of my house.
CHAPTER 15
After Ryan left, I swept up the shattered wood in my foyer, then wrestled what was left of the door back into position—or at least close enough to drive a few nails into some of the longer pieces of its shattered frame as rudimentary braces.
I stepped back and looked at the door, totally baffled. A flying side kick? Up the stairs and across the porch? How the fuck had he done this much damage? But at least he’d woken me from that nightmare. Still, I’d have to scrounge some plywood later to do a better job of securing it. Hurricane season wasn’t for another month yet, so I could probably borrow one of the sheets of plywood that Tessa used to protect her store during storms.
My cell phone rang with a number I didn’t recognize just as I was putting my tools away in a kitchen drawer.
“Detective Gillian,” I answered.
“Detective? This is Greg Cerise.”
I straightened unconsciously. “Hello, Mr. Cerise. What can I do for you?”
He laughed, with a trace of what might have been uncertainty. “You can call me Greg. Look, I don’t know how this is going to sound, but, uh … I … I was just wondering if you’d had a chance to read the comic. I mean, if you wanted to, I have extra copies.” He sounded eager now, the ingenuous puppy.
“Actually, my aunt loaned me a copy of the series. I definitely want to read them, as soon as I get a chance.”
“Cool. That’s cool.” He was silent for a few seconds. “So, um, I saw an article in the paper about these murders. The Symbol Man stuff.”
“Uh-huh?”
“And … I saw that you’re the detective on the case. Right?”
“Yes, I am. Do you have some information for me?”
“Um, no. I–I was just wondering if you’d come to talk to me the other day because of something to do with those murders. I even came by the station, just in case, but you weren’t there.”
“Nope. I was just curious about the picture of Rhyzkahl.” I glanced at the clock. Shit. I’m go
“No! Oh, no … nothing like that. I was just wondering, y’know, and then wanted to see what you thought of the comic.”
“Well, I’ve been a bit busy, but I promise I’ll give you a call as soon as I get the chance to read them,” I said, frowning as I tried to unearth my notebook from all of the crap on the table.
“Oh. Okay. All right. Well … thanks.” With that he hung up. I stared at my phone for a second, frown deepening. What was that all about? Was he trying to tell me something? Or was that his way of trying to hit on me?
“I can see why you’re a single man, Greg,” I muttered as I headed to my bedroom to change clothes.
I came to the office laden with stuff—all the case notes and photos and clippings that I had at the house, which was quite a bit. I’d just tossed everything into a box when I realized that I was going to be late. Bad enough that I’d missed the morning meeting. I’d look like a complete flake if I missed another.
To my relief, the conference room was empty. I grabbed a seat, then started going through my notes, looking for anything new that could possibly leap out at me. A short while later, the door opened and the agents trooped in, followed by the sour-faced Detective Harris. I took a few minutes and showed them my notes and photos, then we each briefed the others on our progress—which wasn’t much. After the briefings, we took turns going over different sections of the case, occasionally making observations or comments.
After about an hour, Agent Garner stood, groaning and stretching his arms over his head, his back popping audibly. “My eyes feel like they’re about to fall out of my head.” His gaze fell on the box. “Hey, what’s this?” he said, pulling out the stack of comics. “Is this part of the case?”