"Why L.A.?"
Kelly shrugged. “Why not? It's kind of like Texas, right?"
"Not really."
"Well, but, I mean it's sunny and everything, and everyone knows people are pretty laid back out there, so she figured it'd be easier to, you know, get a job, get a place."
"Did Jamie go with her?"
"Nah, they had a big fight about it. He wanted her to stay here, but Liz was totally set on getting out of Texas. I mean this is the state that gave her to Jabril in the first place, so why would she trust ‘em now?"
"Why didn't Jamie want to go with her?"
"His mom. He checks in on her once in awhile, and he's got a little sister who lives with his aunt. I think he feels responsible."
"So Liz is alone out there. Can you get in touch with her?"
"She checks this web site we use, but...” Her voice trailed off and her gaze skittered away uneasily.
"But?"
"I haven't heard from her. I mean it's only been a few days so far, but she left a message the first day and I haven't heard anything since then."
"Perfect. Good planning.” Cyn rubbed tired eyes, trying not to snap at Kelli, trying not to imagine all the things that could happen to a seventeen-year-old girl on her own in L.A. “All right, listen—” She stopped as her phone rang, then frowned at the display. It was a local number, and not one she knew. On the other hand, it definitely wasn't the vampires calling. She flipped the phone open. “Leighton."
"Ms. Leighton, Ramona Hewitt here. Can we meet?"
Cyn's eyes widened in surprise. That didn't take long. “Sure,” she said to Hewitt. “Name the time and place, preferably before dark."
Hewitt made a wordless sound of agreement. “Where are you staying?"
"Four Seasons."
"Well, well. Fine. They've got a lobby bar. You can buy a public servant a well-earned drink."
"What time?"
"Let's make it four-thirty. The sun sets early this time of year."
"I'll be there,” Cyn agreed. Hewitt hung up without saying good-bye, so Cyn snapped the phone shut and turned back to Kelli. “Where was I?"
"You were about to compliment me and Liz on our incredible planning."
"Something like that, but done is done. If you hear from Liz, you call me right away, got it? I'll give you my cell number.” She dug in the backpack and pulled out one of her own business cards, writing on the back before handing it over. “If anyone asks, you tell them I gave it to you when I was out at the estate. In case you thought of anything that could help me, right? You tell Liz to call me, or give me a number where I can call her. Will she believe you if you tell her it's okay, that she can trust me?"
"Probably. Yeah, I think so."
"All right, but if not, give her that address.” She indicated the address of Jessica's House she'd written on the back. “The phone number's there, too. It's a shelter for teenagers on the west side of L.A., run by someone I trust, someone reliable. If Liz needs a ride to get there, they'll take care of it."
"What're you gonna do now?"
"That phone call was from Liz's caseworker. Everyone seems to agree that Liz trusted her, so I'm hoping she'll know something that can help me. After that, I need to figure out a way to get Mirabelle on a plane with me back to California, and then I'm going to find your friend Liz."
Kelli's eyes were big as saucers. “He'll never let her go. Not Mirabelle. Even if Liz gets away, he's already got Mirabelle and her money. You don't know what he's like, what he'll do to her."
"Actually, I have a pretty good idea, but I'll figure something out. I can't abandon her there."
Kelli was looking at her as if she'd grown another head. “Why'd he call you? I mean, you sure don't seem to like vampires much, so why you?"
Cyn stood again, her mind already working the problem of Mirabelle. “Like I said before,” she said distractedly. “He thought he could use me to get back at someone else. Unfortunately, that someone doesn't give a shit, so it won't work out the way he hoped."
"A boyfriend, huh?"
"No!” Cyn focused on the girl, surprised. “Why would you say that?"
"Yeah, I can tell,” she said smugly. “It's a boyfriend thing."
"Whatever. Listen, you've got a cell phone, right?"
"Sure."
"Give me your number.” She pushed the pen over and dug out another card, watching as the girl wrote her name and number in a childish hand, then took it back and looked it over. “Good. I've got to go. You'll be okay?"
"No problem. I'm meeting some friends later."
"And you'll call me if you hear anything? Anything at all."
"Yep."
"Okay. I don't know how much longer I'll be in Houston, but you can reach me on my cell phone wherever I am.” She slung the backpack over her shoulder and gave Kelli one last look. “Thanks for this, Kelli. It's a good thing."
Kelli blushed and ducked her head. “Yeah, well. Liz is all right."
"So are you. You make a mom proud.” She grinned. “Talk to you later."
She hurried out of the museum, figuring she had just enough time to get back to the hotel and her meeting with Ramona Hewitt.
Chapter Eleven
Ramona Hewitt was already at a table when Cyn arrived. It had taken her longer than she'd expected to get across town because, contrary to the wide open image most people had of Texas, Houston was a big city, with lots of traffic.
Hewitt looked worn out. Her neat-as-a-pin blue suit was wilted and the tidy hairdo had a halo of wisps that had escaped their rigid confinement. A glass of Scotch sat on the table in front of her.
"I hope you put that on a tab,” Cyn said, pulling out a chair to sit.
"I did."
"Good.” Cyn signaled to the waiter who hurried over after leaving a trayful of drinks at the next table.
"What can I get you ladies?"
Cyn usually didn't drink, but today she'd make an exception. “I'll have an Absolut on the rocks, with a couple of olives and...” She looked at Hewitt, but the caseworker shook her head. Cyn pointed at the Scotch. “Can you put that on my tab and keep it open. Oh, and something to eat, maybe...” She grabbed the bar menu and perused it quickly, making a little face at the choices. “Far Eastern Bites, I guess, whatever that is.” The waiter nodded and took off, stopping at another table on the way.
"Busy in here,” Cyn commented.
"It's Friday,” Hewitt said. “People like to start their weekend early.” She took a sip of her Scotch and Cyn noticed she was drinking it neat. A real Scotch drinker then, which Cyn hadn't expected. Hewitt seemed more like the sherry type to her.
"So why didn't you tell me you cofounded Jessica's House?” Hewitt said.
Cyn shrugged. “Because I didn't. That's Luci's baby, not mine. She does all the work. All I did was write a check."
"Quite a big check."
"No more than Luci's. She had this dream when we were in college to create a place where runaway kids could feel safe. More like an obsession, really. It was the only thing she ever talked about. I wasn't that dedicated, but I believed in Luci and in what she was doing. I'm not that much of a people person, so I took the easy way out and wrote a check."
"And became a private investigator."
"Well,” Cyn smiled slightly. “I became a cop first. Luci probably told you. Mostly to irritate my father, but I enjoyed it for a while."
"But not forever."
"No. Not forever. Like I said, I'm not much of a people person. I work better alone."
The waiter arrived with her drink and the promise of food to come. Cyn waited until he'd left, then took a long sip of her vodka, feeling it smooth away the snarls of the day, a nice warm slide all the way down. “So. You called."
"I did,” Hewitt said. “How much do you know about Jabril Karim and his outfit?"
"More than most, less than some, I suppose. I know about vampires and how they work in general, their hierarchy and such. Jabril's got real power within their society, both personal and political. I wouldn't underestimate him. But as far as the two sisters go, Mirabelle and Elizabeth? I only know what I've been told, which isn't much. I can tell you without question Mirabelle is a virtual prisoner out there, and Jabril wants her money and nothing else. As for the Hawthorn Trust, it's a matter of public record, and I assume there are private assets as well. What I don't know is how he got ahold of her in the first place. He claims to be Liz's legal guardian too, is that right?"
"Yes, it is.” Hewitt's jaw tightened in anger. “You may not believe this, but I tried to stop that from happening. I was the original caseworker assigned to the CPS evaluation, and I recommended strongly against granting that ungodly creature custody over those two girls. Just babies, they were. Fifteen and ten years old. What kind of a system would turn those children over to a monster like that? I didn't understand it then, and I don't understand it now. Even after what he did to Mirabelle, plain as day, no one said a peep.” She leaned across the table, one fingertip pressed into the lacquered wood for emphasis. “It's money, is what it is. The whole system's bought and paid for. A smart guy like Jabril—I may not like him, but he's wily as a snake—a man like that knows where to put his money to do the most good. Those girls never had a chance."
"They didn't have any other family? No one with a better claim?"
"A half sister up in Maine somewhere, from their father's first marriage. There was a lot of bitterness in the divorce and she was quite a bit older than the girls. I contacted her, but she wasn't really interested. You would have thought the money alone would bring her, but no. She had enough of her own, I guess. Or maybe she's one of the ten people left on Earth who don't care about money, I don't know. I recommended foster care. For all its problems, it would have been better. But I don't think the judge even saw my report. My former supervisor took the case over and the hearing was held in private, to protect the children's privacy, they said.” She snorted. “To keep the whole damn thing a secret, more likely. They handed those girls over and never looked back. Judge retired a year later, a nice fat pension and a vacation house in the Bahamas. My supervisor? She got a shiny new job over in the mayor's office. Bought and paid for, I say."