“Yeah,” Eli said, concern lacing his tone. “NAS JRB is six nautical miles from downtown New Orleans. It’s home to the 159th Fighter Wing, USCG Air Station New Orleans, a Marine Corps Reserve unit, navy and army units.”
I felt as if I were being given a military readiness lecture. And maybe I was.
“Layman’s terms: The base supports both the 159th FW’s NORAD for air defense and Homeland Security, and the Coast Guard Air Station New Orleans search and rescue/maritime law enforcement missions. It contains a military airport known as Alvin Callender Field. I’ve already notified your ex. Or your maybe sometime. Or your—”
“Rick will do,” I said, sounding more prim than I intended.
“The info was confirmed by a vamp-feeding and Vulcan mind meld,” the Kid added. “There were vamps at the military party. One had red hair. Wrassler said to call him after four p.m.”
I snorted into my breakfast as I ate. Vulcan mind meld. It fit. “Hmmph,” I said. “Now wayward vamps want a piece of Uncle Sam? Leo will be ticked. Cajun eggs are the best. More?”
“Good G—gravy, woman. You just ate a dozen eggs,” Eli said. I shrugged. He got up and opened the fridge for more eggs and milk. I was nearly done when he flipped a pan of steaming eggs onto my plate and I dug in again. When I was satisfied, I pushed back the plate, swallowed the last bite down with a slurp of cold tea, and met Evan’s eyes.
He was tired and fighting anger, tiny hot flames in his blue eyes. I said, “The Kid will update you on Molly, but we don’t have a lot to go on. Yet. When is the last time you did a finding spell on her?”
“This morning,” he said. “And I got nothing. But more like it’s blocked, not like she’s . . . gone.” He meant dead. “Which is a relief of some sorts.”
“Can you tell who’s blocking her?” I asked. “Like, is she blocking all targeting and finding spells herself, or is someone else blocking her from others?”
The corners of Big Evan’s eyes pulled down with his frown. I could tell he hadn’t thought about her blocking him out. But now that I’d planted the worm in his skull, it was burrowing deep.
Go, me. With a little luck, I might make cruelest skinwalker of the year. “Can you tell if she’s still nearby?”
“She’s within fifty miles,” he said.
“Mommy’s okay,” Angelina said. “But she’s scared.”
My mouth came open, but I stopped on whatever I was going to say, when Evan said, very gently, “You can tell she’s okay?”
Angie nodded. “All the time. Can I have more syrup?”
“You’ve had enough sugar, sweetheart,” Evan said, his eyes unfocused. “Can you tell where Mommy is?”
Angie scrunched up her face and thought, chewing her breakfast. “No. She’s okay. But she’s scared. You hafta find her soon. Can I please be excused? Me and EJ’s gonna play in the backyard.”
“Sure,” Evan said. “Don’t try to leave the yard.”
“Biscause the alarms will go off,” Angie said, nodding. “From your wards.”
“Right.” But it was obvious that he wasn’t really hearing her. EJ crawled out of his high chair and he and Angie scampered out the side door, their footsteps hollow on the wood porch into the backyard. Evan looked down, fighting disappointment and fear and despondency so strong it crossed the table in dark waves.
My cell buzzed and I didn’t recognize the number. “Yellowrock Securities,” I said.
“Ms. Yellowrock, this is the concierge at the Hilton on St. Charles Avenue. Ms. Bedelia Everhart has trusted me with a missive for you. Would you prefer to have me mail it to you or would you like to pick it up?”
It took a moment to put the name with Molly, and when I did I stepped away so no one could read the expression on my face. “I can be there in a few minutes.”
“It will be waiting for you at my desk, ma’am.”
I clicked the cell shut. Eli and the Kid and I shared glances. As if covering for me, Eli said, “Windows for the back of the house come today. We’ll have them installed by one.”
“Well,” I said with fake-sounding cheer, “I’ll make a trip back to the hotel to see if anything new has happened, and then I’ll be researching at NOPD.” Mostly talking to Jodi at police department central. Asking if she knew anything about Molly or vamps out of Texas, or people in vamp society who wore gold earrings.
“Woo-woo room?” Eli asked.
“Yeah. No cell signal. If you need me, call Jodi.”
“Will do.”
I pulled on a pair of green Lucchese boots and left my house, hopped on the back of Bitsa, and took off to research—the tedious part of being in the security business.
? ? ?
When I got to Molly’s hotel, I stopped at the concierge desk. “My name’s Jane Yellowrock,” I said to the slender, white-haired guy behind the desk. “I understand that Molly—Bedelia Everhart left me a message.”
“Ms. Yellowrock, yes,” he said, his smile professionally courteous. He extended a legal envelope. “She left it this morning.”