The District. Carol Ericson
place as you.”
“Great.” Her lips stretched into a polite, professional smile. Damn. Someone up there wanted to torture her. “You can follow me over in your car. It’s not far.”
“Well, I would if I had a car.”
She pinched her finger with the latch of her briefcase and then sucked it into her mouth. Someone really wanted to torture her.
“I took a taxi from the airport, left my suitcase in the squad room. I’ll just hitch a ride with you.”
“Sounds...good.” She wheeled back her chair and grabbed her purse from the credenza. She plucked her cell phone from the side pocket and checked the display, cupping her hand around it. She’d have to swap out the wallpaper photo of Kendall unless she wanted Eric to start asking uncomfortable questions.
The guilt washed over her in such a strong wave, her knees wobbled and she plopped back into the chair. She glanced quickly at Eric, but he was busy packing up his own stuff and didn’t notice her sudden collapse.
How could she keep Eric in the dark any longer? All the reasons she’d used to put off telling him about her pregnancy, including the fact that she didn’t know where he’d gone on his leave of absence, came tumbling down around her. She had no excuses left.
He probably still didn’t want kids and his last kidnapping case with the Bureau had pretty much reinforced that for him, but he should still know about his daughter’s existence.
And Kendall? She deserved to know her father even if he didn’t remain a constant fixture in her life—not that an absentee father ever did her any good.
As a child she’d even wished her father had already died some noble death instead of constantly confronting the hurt and pain that he just didn’t want her in his life if she wasn’t going to conform to his lifestyle.
But Eric was nothing like her father.
“Why are you still sitting there? You ready to go?”
“Just waiting for you.” She gripped the handle of her briefcase and slung her purse over her shoulder. She scooted from behind the desk, waving Eric through the door first.
She didn’t need to squeeze past him, brushing body parts, feeling the warmth of his flesh. It was bad enough they’d be sharing a car and a hotel.
They shuffled into the squad room to a few nods and a big smile from Officer Griego.
“Any breaks in the case?”
“Not yet. Have a good night.” Eric retrieved his suitcase from the corner and they stopped by the lieutenant’s office on their way out. His blinds were drawn and they could hear voices from inside.
Eric sliced a finger across his throat and pointed to the exit.
“Are you in the parking garage?”
“Too crowded. I’m in the lot across the street.”
They emerged into the sunlight and Christina took a deep breath of fresh air as she fished for her sunglasses in her purse. “You don’t realize you’ve been cooped up all day until you get outside.”
“It’s always a good idea to take a breather.” Eric slipped his own sunglasses out of his front pocket. “Now we just have a few hours left of daylight.”
“I’m over here.” She held her arm out and clicked the remote. “Do you even plan to get your own rental car?”
“With all the budget cuts in place? I’m lucky I got my own room in the hotel.”
She sent him a sidelong glance but sealed her lips. She wouldn’t go there. “At least the hotel is halfway decent.”
They approached the rental from the rear, and Christina popped the trunk.
Eric stepped beside her, nudging her shoulder with his and took the briefcase from her hand.
“Here, I’ll get that.”
“Thanks.” Would she ever get to the point where she could stand next to this man without going all gooey inside? She skirted the bumper and headed to the front of the car.
“What the heck is this on my windshield?”
Eric slammed the trunk and the little car bounced. “Parking ticket? I’m sure Rita Griego would be more than happy to take care of that for you.”
“It’s not paper.” She bent forward to get a closer look at the white mark in the corner of her windshield. Her belly flip-flopped.
Eric circled around the front of the car to the driver’s side. “What is it?”
She straightened up and turned to face him. “It’s our sign. It’s the sign from Liz Fielding’s necklace.”
Chapter Four
Eric’s jaw tightened and he ducked around Christina to get a better look. The symbol mocked him, and he felt like smashing his fist through the glass.
Why had he never remembered the necklace and that symbol before now? He may have told the police about it after the kidnapping, had probably even described it to them, but he must’ve erased it from his memory after that.
Christina stiffened beside him and grabbed his arm. “Who put it there?”
Turning, he scanned the parking lot, his gaze traveling across the lampposts. “There aren’t any cameras here, so we’re out of luck.”
“It must be someone connected to Liz’s murder.” Her fingernails clawed at his flesh through his suit jacket.
“Or maybe just someone connected to Liz.” He smacked the roof of the car. “We need to find out what that symbol means, and we’re going to start by going to Nora’s bookstore.”
“Nora’s bookstore?” She snapped a couple of pictures of the symbol with her phone’s camera.
“The Kindred Spirit. Think about it. Sounds like one of those fantasy, sci-fi places.” He leaned forward and scraped the edge of the white markings with his thumbnail. “White shoe polish.”
“Do you want to head over there right now?”
“It can wait. I need to get out of this suit. I’ll make sure the store is open later.” He pulled out his phone and slid into the car. He tapped in a search for the bookstore and checked the location and hours. “They’re open until midnight—the witching hour.”
“Technically, midnight is not the witching hour. That would be 3:00 a.m., sort of the opposite of the time Christ was born at 3:00 p.m.”
“And you would know.”
“Did you just call me a witch?”
He glanced at Christina’s profile. Her smile was bright but brittle. He’d have to tread lightly. Too much unfinished business and animosity lay between them. “Isn’t your half sister into some of this stuff?”
She loosened her grip on the steering wheel. “Yep. She inherited some of my father’s particular gifts just like I did, and she ran with them.”
“How close are you to her? Maybe she could help us with this sign.”
“Not that close. I haven’t spoken to her in over a month, and I’m not comfortable discussing these things with her.”
“Okay. Forget that.”
She wheeled the car into the circular driveway of the hotel. “Do you want me to drop you off in the front?”
“Just park. I can wheel my suitcase in.”
She made the turn and slid a card into the slot for the parking arm, which creaked open. “Do you think I’m being followed?”
“Someone