Wiretaps & Whiskers (The Faerie Files Book 1) Page 8

  I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

  “I’m impressed. Good observation skills, Rivera. Did I get anything right about you?”

  She pursed her full lips and nodded her head.

  “Yeah. I smoked behind the art building,” she confessed. “You were right about that. But if you played football, didn’t that make you popular, too? I thought guys like you were supposed to be kings in high school.”

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose in quiet exasperation.

  “There you go again with the sweeping generalizations. What the hell does guy like me mean?”

  “You know exactly what it means.”

  “No, I really don’t,” I insisted. “So why don’t you tell me?”

  “It means you’ve been handed everything,” she said, getting flustered. “I bet you’ve never really worked that hard for anything, have you? I know you’re only in the FBI because your dad and grandpa and a bunch of uncles were in it.”

  Was Rivera for real? It was like she was doing everything she could to make me abandon our assignment. I took a deep breath, not willing to let her reclaim that point she’d lost earlier.

  “If anything, that family legacy meant I had to work harder to prove myself. And why do you give a shit what sport I played in high school? I was too busy studying to bother with dumb shit like being the most popular kid in my grade. I’m guessing this tough girl act of yours stems from you not getting enough attention from your parents.”

  She tensed up, her face turning pale again.

  “Oh, am I on the right track again? I bet you were a mean girl in high school. Bet you threw little temper tantrums when you got cut off from your credit card. I bet you were mom and daddy’s special little snowflake and you always got what you wanted.”

  I could see the anger rise within her like a boiling kettle. I imagined steam coming out her ears as she finally blew her lid. I wondered what insult she’d hurl at me next. Quietly, she seethed with rage as though she was going to erupt at any second.

  Aww shit . . . I’ve driven her crazy, I laughed internally.

  But just when I thought she was finally going to go apeshit crazy bananas, a single fat tear ran down her cheek. It caught me so completely off guard that I was instantly filled with regret. I didn’t even think it was possible for her to cry.

  On the other hand, she might be completely manipulating me. She seemed the type. I decided even if she was, I could still be the better person.

  “Look, I clearly crossed a line,” I said, raising my hands. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just—”

  “My parents are dead.”

  Thick, heavy silence filled the space between us. Even the frogs and crickets chirping outside seemed to quiet down. I could just imagine them judging me.

  Ohhhhh fuck . . .

  “Rivera, I’m so sorry . . . ” I said. “Honestly, I really am. I never would’ve said those things if I’d known.”

  “It’s okay,” she replied. “It’s not like you had a clue.”

  The silence returned for a long moment as the tension built between us. She’d even stopped chomping on those Skittles. I could see her morph before my eyes as she reminisced about her parents. Her entire demeanor shifted before my eyes. Somehow, someway, she managed to appear smaller and younger as she withdrew into herself.

  Eventually, she raised her face to look at me. Her eyes had dried up, but I could still see the raw emotion in them.

  “They were murdered when I was a kid.”

  For a second, I looked into her eyes for any sign that she was joking, but of course there wasn’t one.

  “That’s so fucked up,” I whispered. “Oh, man, Rivera . . . that’s awful!”

  I meant everything I’d just said, but my words sounded far from comforting. They sounded hollow. What do you say to someone who’s lost someone so violently? In my job, you meet tons of people who’ve lost a loved one, and there was never anything wise or profound to say that made them feel better. Even in our sensitivity training class at Quantico, you just had to let people feel their feelings and empathize with them.

  “I’m really sorry that happened to you,” I said to her. “I mean it.”

  “Thanks . . . ” she said, looking down at her lap. “I’m sorry for being such a bitch. I’m not really that good with . . . people.”

  I shrugged and took the opportunity to dig into that paper bag for a blueberry muffin.

  “I kinda figured that when you kept calling me Brad.”

  She lifted her head, then realized I was joking.

  Shuffling further up the bed, I approached her the way I would a feral cat. Laying a hand on her shoulder, I prepared myself for her to pull away, but to my surprise, she didn’t.

  “I lost my mom too,” I told her before taking a big bite. Man, it was good.

  Rivera looked at me with wide, inquisitive eyes.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. Cancer. I was fourteen.”

  “Oh, that’s so sad,” she replied. “That must have been awful for you.”

  “It was, but . . . ” I swallowed the bite and took a swig of bottled water to wash it down. “I like to think she’s still with me somewhere, somehow.”

  “I’m sure she is,” she said and gave me a soft smile.

  “You said that like you know.”

  “I do know.”

  “How?”

  She didn’t reply. Just looked back down at her lap.

  “What about your parents?” I asked. “Do you think they’re watching over you?”

  “In their own way.” She smiled bigger, her eyes shining like they were filled with the sun.

  Holy crap, I thought as I looked over at her. She’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before. It’s like she’s not even from this planet.

  “So,” she said, snapping herself back to her usual tone with a shake of her head. “Our case notes.”

  “Yeah, right . . . our case notes.” I finished the muffin and tidied up my papers, eager to return to professional adult mode.

  “We’ve got a lot to go through. Where do you wanna start?”

  “I think we should go back to Haley’s testimony,” she said. “She’s given us the most insight into possible locations of the children.”

  I scrunched my face in confusion at her.

  “What do you mean, possible locations? As in underworld faerie kingdom with crystal thrones and giant mushrooms?”

  “You sound so skeptical.”

  “I am so skeptical.”

  “You shouldn’t be.”

  I set down my pencil and put on my most practical, sensible face.

  “Show me the proof. Show me the facts. The whole faerie world doesn’t make sense. It’s nuts, right? It’s more likely that something else happened to Haley and she’s simply interpreting the event like any creative child would. Then you factor in the whole folklore of the area seems to be centered around faeries, moonshine, and bingo, of course the locals are going to say their kids are being abducted by little green men. It’s probably some child trafficking ring that lures kids by dressing like Disney princesses or something. What if they’re being kept in a basement? That would explain the mushrooms.”

  A smirk twitched at the corners of Rivera’s mouth. With her head cocked to the side, she regarded me in the same way I’d seen old ladies look down at their yappy chihuahuas. She was simply waiting for me to stop flapping my jaws.

  “What?” I asked. “What is it now?”

  “Nothing. You just have so much to learn,” she said and ate another few pieces of candy. “So fucking much.”

  8

  Elena

  I woke up expecting to see the roof of my bedroom, not expecting to see the low beams of the slanted treehouse roof above my head. As I rolled over, intense orange sunlight stung my eyes.

  What the hell? Was it dawn? Was I really up at dawn?

  Ugh.

  With a grumble, I sat up and felt something cold and damp stuck to my ch
eek with drool. Slapping a hand to my face, I realized I’d fallen asleep on top of my notes sprawled out across the top of the covers.

  Peeling the page from my face—and a Skittles wrapper from under my boob—I looked around for Logan but there was no sign of him. His bag was still on the built-in bench, although his sleeping bag and sheet had been rolled up and folded in a neat little pile. Huh. Even when he was sleeping on the floor, he still made the bed.

  Weirdo.

  “Good morning!” came McKinney’s friendly voice from the ground below me. With a yawn, I sauntered over to the window and looked down. Mist had gathered in the night and was now pooled just a few feet above the ground. The sheriff stood there in a plaid bathrobe with his hair stuck up on end. He was holding two steaming mugs, with a thermos in the pocket of his robe.

  Clever. I’d have to try that trick sometime. First I’d need a robe.

  “I remember you don’t like coffee, so Martha made you some hot chocolate,” he said. “Hope you ain’t one of them lactose-intolerants.”

  “Aw, Sheriff, you’re a lifesaver!”

  Reaching for my over-sized sweatshirt and joggers, I quickly slipped into them before shimmying down the ladder.

  “Have you seen Agent Hawthorne?” I asked McKinney, taking the cup from his hand.

  “Nope. Must’ve given us both the slip.”

  I held the cup of cocoa beneath my face and hoped the steam would wake me up.

  “I, um, heard you and him arguing last night,” he said, taking a sip from his thermos. “y’all are like a cat and dog.”

  “Sorry,” I replied, embarrassed. “We’re just really, really different. And like I said yesterday, he’s the new guy.”

  McKinney snorted. “Oh yeah. Breaking in the ol’ FNG. Been there before. Lots of times. Well, I sure hope you work things out.”

  “Yeah . . . me too. Logan’s heart is in the right place. He wants to find those kids as much as anyone.”

  The sound of footsteps approaching quickly stopped me from going on any more about my partner. After opening up to each other about losing our parents, I felt like the least I could do was not talk shit about him to the local law enforcement.

  McKinney and I both turned around to see Logan jogging across the yard and out towards us. Soft white mist swirled behind his wake, parting gently as he slowed down to a steady walk. His shirt was tucked into the back of his running shorts, making them hang low on his hips. It also called attention to the heavy equipment he was packing inside his shorts. I could tell it was grade A beef. The only thing he wore from the waist up was a watch and a thin sheen of sweat. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t.

  Those arms. And those abs.

  God damn!

  I could grate cheese on those abs.

  “Is there a yellow lab that lives nearby?” he asked, pointing his thumb back towards the driveway. “One ran with me for about two miles before she saw a squirrel and took off. Weirdest thing.”

  “Yeah, that’s Tempie,” laughed McKinney. “She’s a sweet pup. Great bird dog, too. Hope she behaved herself.”

  “Oh yeah,” Logan said, having just about caught his breath. “I love dogs. Can’t really have one in this line of work, though. It wouldn’t be fair to the dog.”

  Was he pulling out the shirt from his shorts to wipe himself off with it? Oh fuck . . . he sure was. A whiff of his clean sweat floated through the air, mingled with just a touch of woodsy body wash or soap. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of that fresh fragrance.

  “What about a cat?” McKinney suggested. No sooner had the words come out of his mouth than Logan was groaning like he’d just realized the milk in his cereal was chunky.

  “No way. I hate cats. I’ll never be a cat person. My fiancée—I mean, my ex, she was always begging for us to get a couple of five-thousand-dollar Persians. I’m not spending ten grand on cats when shelters can’t even give them away.”

  McKinney handed him the mug of coffee, and I just stood there like a fly on the wall as the two of them blabbed about fools and their money. I wasn’t listening to a single word they said. I was too busy unpacking the two huge nuggets of info that Logan had unwittingly volunteered. One, he hated cats. Interesting.

  But the offhand comment about his fiancée—I mean, his ex, was way more interesting. It must’ve been a fairly recent break up if he was still accidentally calling her his fiancée. Maybe that explained his “I’m not taking any shit from a woman” attitude? I didn’t agree with it, but at least he had an understandable excuse for treating his new partner like shit. I didn’t have a good excuse for why I treated him the way I did.

  Sometimes I was just a bitch.

  As I finished off my hot chocolate, I took another long look at Logan’s body. It was unnerving how casual and relaxed he was, standing there half-naked as he swapped stories with McKinney about the dumbest shit people wasted their money on. He just grinned and drank his coffee, probably enjoying the feel of the soft morning air on his bare body. Who would’ve guessed that beneath the boring suit he was hiding all of this?

  And I found myself hating him for it. Even in this day and age, I’d never have that experience . . . to stand outside topless and chat with someone over drinks like it was no big deal. I even hated myself a little bit for being so weak and practically drooling over this human. They looked a lot like Logan, but humans sure as hell didn’t smell as good as he did. Now here I was, bug-eyed with my brain in my panties over the sight of Logan’s hunky, ripped, shirtless glistening body.

  “I should get dressed!” I suddenly blurted out, desperate for a reason to leave the conversation. Before they could respond, I was already racing back up the ladder. Once at the top, I realized just how fast my heart was beating.

  What the hell was all that about? I scolded myself. Why did I just act like it was the first time I’d seen a shirtless dude? Maybe cuz it’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone that fine?

  You’re just sleep-deprived, I reasoned as I walked over to my duffel bag and searched for my makeup bag. You just need to wake up and get your head on straight. That’s all.

  “What do you think?” asked McKinney.

  But I couldn’t think of a single word to say. I was speechless . . . which didn’t happen too often. But now I was completely overwhelmed at what had been set out in front of me.

  The incident room at the station had been set up long before we’d arrived in town, complete with the missing children’s photographs placed along each wall. Their faces stared back at me with chubby cheeks and innocent faces. Seeing numbers on a spreadsheet was one thing, but this . . . this was heartbreaking.

  “There’s just so many,” I said scanning the photos on the walls. “Too many.”

  “It’s almost too much to process,” said Logan from behind me. “It doesn’t seem real.”

  “No. It doesn’t,” I agreed. “How can so many kids go missing from this area alone?”

  “And how can only one come back?”

  The three of us stood in the center of the room taking it all in. Hundreds of eyes stared out at us, begging for us to find them. I felt crippled by the weight of all their hopeful gazes. Paralyzed by the realization of how many children we needed to find.

  “This is a fucking epidemic,” I said to the room. “Something like this hasn’t happened on this scale before.”

  “Actually it has,” said McKinney.

  “It has?” I asked him. “Here?”

  “No. In Europe.” He scratched his chin and perched on the edge of the nearest desk. “Ever heard of the Pied Piper of Hamelin?”

  “Obviously,” replied Logan. “Some guy with a flute got a bunch of kids to follow him out of town. But that’s just a fairy tale.”

  “I don’t think you realize the irony of what you just said,” snorted McKinney. “You’re right. It was a fairy tale. A real one.”

  Logan blinked at him in response.

  “Right then . . . listen up,” continued McKin
ney, pulling out a chair and making himself comfortable. “It was the medieval times and there are rats everywhere, right? So they get this exterminator called the Pied Piper to play the flute and lure the rats out of town. And he did, but the townsfolk refused to pay the bill, so he came back and took all the town’s kids with him as payment. Fucking hundreds of them.”

  “But . . . that didn’t really happen,” Logan said with a frown. “It’s just a story like Sleeping Beauty or Hansel and Gretl.”

  “Will you cut your shit and open your mind a little?” I told him. “Don’t you know that all these so-called fairy tales came from someplace real?”

  Logan’s frown deepened as McKinney gave me a nod of alliance.

  “Exactly,” he said to my partner. “These stories didn’t just spring up out of nowhere. And believe me, I’ve read everything there is to know about fairy tales and folklore.”

  “I know. I saw the book collection in your office.”

  “Then you’ll know that I’m not an idiot in this field. I consider myself quite the amateur historian actually.” He drew himself up as though he were getting ready to launch into a litany of examples.

  “Anyway, the Pied Piper,” I interjected, wanting him to get back on topic.

  “Yeah . . . the Pied Piper. He lured the kids out of town, but do you know where he took them all?”

  Logan shook his head.

  “Into a hole in a hill.”

  The frown across Logan’s head deepened ever further until it looked as though his head was about to implode.

  “A hole in a hill? Would we maybe call that a cave?”

  “Or compare it to a hole in a tree?” I mused.

  “Exactly,” said McKinney.

  Logan, looking as though he was being afflicted by a tremendous migraine, raised a hand to his head and stared into space.

  “Let me get this straight. Are you suggesting all these kids in this area were lured away by . . . the Pied Piper?”

  “Something like that,” said McKinney. “He’s got the same MO. Just look at the similarities. Hundreds of missing kids from one area. An entrance into the ground like a hole in a hill or a tree. An otherworldly little fella luring them away. Seems uncanny, don’t it? What do you think, Rivera?”