“The energy that kicked your ass.”
“That’s my guess.” Zach paused, recalling her words. “She was scared and angry. At me. For interfering. She said I’d get us both killed.”
Parker said nothing, so Zach went on. “She called me a Half Light. Said it as if it were a slur. A Half Light,” he repeated. “What did she mean by that?”
Parker’s brow furrowed. “Something about your gifts maybe?”
“You haven’t heard that term before?”
He shook his head again. “No.”
He sounded sincere. Absolutely convincing. Yet how could that be? Parker hadn’t been surprised by Zach’s lack of response to Knight, or the description of the unusually strong energy, but he’d never heard the expression Half Light?
Convincing or not, Zach didn’t buy it. “She also said light is fleeting.”
“Life is fleeting?”
“No, light. And that the darkness is greedy.”
“She sounds like a new age whack-job. Which isn’t surprising. The gifted often lose their way. Besides, you’re focusing on the wrong thing. It’s the energy source we’re after, not a delusional fortune-teller.”
“What about the number seven?”
“It obviously has special significance for the UNSUB. What that is, we don’t know yet. We need more information.”
Again, Zach wasn’t quite buying Parker’s response. But why would Parker lie to him about this? They were on the same team, after all.
Zach held his hand up, fingers splayed. “You feeling strong this morning, P?”
Parker eyed him. “You can control the transfer?”
“I don’t know. It was big and badass.”
“Then I’ll pass.”
“Scared, Parker?”
“Cautious.”
“Bullshit. Who’re we after? You know.”
“I don’t. If I did, I wouldn’t need you, now would I?”
“Why don’t I believe you’re being straight with me?”
“Your problem, man. We’re on the same team.”
“Are we?”
Parker indicated Zach’s phone. “Your partner’s calling.”
A split second later, his cell went off. The sun wasn’t even up yet. “H’lo,” he answered, making his voice thick and sleepy sounding.
“Wake up, Prince Charming. Another girl’s missing.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Saturday, July 13
5:25 A.M.
The missing girl had connections, Micki learned when she reached the scene. Patricia Putnam’s dad was Senator Roland Putnam, head of the powerful Foreign Relations Committee.
She signed the scene log and glanced at Zach, standing quietly next to her, gaze fixed on the front door of the small duplex. “Hollywood, it’s about to rain Federal agents. We need to do our thing before they take over.”
He nodded, expression tight. Preparing himself, she thought. In a way no one else here had to. And unlike the Miller scene, they didn’t have this one to themselves.
“Detective Dare?”
She turned. An officer, vaguely familiar. Perkins, his badge said. He had a young man with him. Putnam’s neighbor, she thought.
In the next moment, Perkins confirmed it. “Jeff Spears. He called it in.”
“Hi, Jeff,” Micki said. I’m Detective Dare, this is my partner Detective Harris. I need to ask you a few questions.”
The young man was tall and skinny with a mop of dark, curly hair. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his khaki shorts, looking uneasy. “Sure.”
“Could you tell me what happened?”
“I don’t know what happened. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
Somebody doesn’t like cops so much. “I mean, what prompted you to call us?”
“Oh.” He let out a long breath. “I heard noises coming from her place.”
“What kind of noises?”
“Like banging and stomping. It was really loud.”
“Where were you?”
“In bed. Trying to sleep. I’m a barista at PJs. I was supposed to open today.”
“What time?”
“Five.” He sighed. “I hope I don’t get fired.”
“I’ll have Officer Perkins talk to your boss.”
“Thanks.”
She went on. “Okay, so you heard banging and stomping, what did you do next?”
“Pounded on the wall. Figured she was having a party, it being her birthday and all.”
Micki looked up from her notebook. “Did you say it was her birthday?”
“Yeah. Twenty-first.”
She glanced at Zach, saw that he had also connected the dots. This made three.
“What happened next?”
“It got worse. Like things really being slammed around, broken.”
“No music?”
His brow furrowed slightly, as if he hadn’t considered that before—like how could it have been a party without tunes?
“No,” he said.
“Laughter?”
“No.”
“Screaming?”
“No, God. No.”
“Then what?”
“I was really pissed off, so I called her.”
“You’re friends?”
“No. But we’re friendly.”
“Gotcha.” Micki made a note. “Go on.”
“She didn’t answer. But the noise stopped.”