Cantrell spat out a curse. “If Containment isn’t responsible, then who is? Who else got us in this situation, hurt my daughter?”
“I’m not sure,” Liam said. “And that’s what I’m trying to find out. But there’s no reason to believe it was your own family.”
Gunnar looked as grateful as I felt for the words.
Emme stirred. “Gunn . . . ,” she said, voice hoarse, and Gunnar turned back to her.
“I’m here, Emme. You all right?”
“The monsters.”
“They’re gone. Zach took care of them, and he took care of you. You’re in the house, and safe now.”
Her eyes were still closed, but her lips curved upward. “Zach did good.”
“Yeah,” Gunnar said, smiling at Zach. His body shifted, relaxed with Emme’s forgiveness. “He did real good.” He’d done what he could, and gotten Emme to safety.
Now if we could just keep her there.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Gunnar, Liam, and I walked outside to take a look around. The air was thick and still and nearly silent, fog softening the house’s hard edges, hiding what remained of the landscaping. The Containment vehicles were gone. Either they hadn’t found anything or they hadn’t bothered to check very hard. But as Liam had said, if Containment thought wraiths were animals, why bother?
“Remind me what we’re looking for,” Gunnar said as we took the sidewalk toward the street.
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure how much Liam wanted Gunnar to know about his suspicions, and figured it was better for him to make that decision for himself.
“Indications of intelligence, complex thinking.”
Gunnar stopped. “What?”
“Does Containment track wraith attacks?” Liam asked.
Gunnar stopped in the junction between the sidewalks, where the Landreaus had planted smaller palms in giant terracotta urns, faced Liam, then looked at me, gaze thoughtful. I’d asked Gunnar almost the exact same question, and he’d have realized there was something bigger going on.
“Why?”
“Because I do track them,” Liam said, letting the cat out of that particular bag. “Attacks have been increasing, and wraiths’ behavior seems to be becoming more developed.”
Gunnar’s eyebrows lifted. “Elaborate.”
Liam didn’t answer, but checked the street for traffic (there wasn’t any) and jogged across to the neutral ground. We followed him, watching as he pulled a small flashlight from his pocket, began checking the ground.
“Recent patterns suggest they pick their victims, track them, and possibly coordinate their attacks.”
“We haven’t seen any evidence of higher-level thinking.”
Liam glanced at him, his face bland. “Haven’t seen it? Or weren’t looking for it?”
“I wasn’t aware there was anything to look for.”
“There could be evidence they camped out, waited for her.” His beam flashed back and forth across the ground, but didn’t settle. After a moment, he flipped off the flashlight—all the better to save the batteries—and glanced at Gunnar. “Are you good at your job?”
Gunnar’s look could have iced over Lake Pontchartrain. “Not at all. You just have to walk in and smile to be the Commandant’s chief adviser.”
I bit back a grin. It was fun to watch Liam Quinn get the business for a change—and nice not to be on the receiving end of it.
“I wasn’t implying. I was asking. Wraith behavior is changing. There are more of them, and they’re acting more intentionally.”
Gunnar frowned, crossed his arms. “You’re talking about evolution?”
“I don’t know,” Liam said. “But I’d bet you’ve got more access to information than nearly anyone else in New Orleans, including me. It would be worth your time to check it out. It would be worth Containment’s time.”
Gunnar slanted me a glance before looking back at Liam. “Because you’re apparently friends with Claire, I’ll spare you the lecture about bounty hunters telling me how to do my job. Instead, I’ll just say I appreciate the heads-up.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I don’t see anything here.”
“Check around the house?” Gunnar suggested, and Liam nodded. He swung the flashlight back and forth across the road; then we moved into the front yard.
“I’ll check the side yard,” I said to them.
“Be careful,” Liam said. “Yell if you need us.”
I promised I would.
There was a stone patio on the side of the house beneath a pergola still covered in leafy vines. Once upon a time, the patio would have been decked with flowers, surrounded by blossoming shrubs. And on a warm night like this, probably fancy people in fancy clothes holding even fancier drinks. But that was all gone now.