Maria is coming with us.”
“Don’t tell me she’s a real nun.”
Roz smirked. “I bet you never had one of them in your car before, did you, Ryan?”
“That’s the goddamned truth.”
Roz tugged open the back passenger door, ushered Maria inside, and climbed in beside Ryan. Leaning back in the seat, she closed her eyes only to open them when the car didn’t immediately move. Ryan was half turned in his seat, staring at her.
Christ, had he never seen a nun before?
He looked his usual scruffy self; his thick dark hair mussed from running his hands through it—something he claimed aided his thought processes. His long, lanky frame was dressed in jeans and a battered leather jacket. He had a lean, handsome face and a slightly crooked smile that gave him an endearing quality. He was a good-looking guy, but she’d never allowed herself to think about Ryan that way. They used each other, and in doing so Roz had exposed more of herself to Ryan than she had to anyone else in five centuries. She couldn’t allow him even closer.
“Are we waiting for something?” she asked pointedly.
“I need to talk to you.”
“So I gathered from the twenty messages on my cell.”
“You could have answered one of them.”
She shrugged. “I was a little indisposed.”
He peered over his shoulder at the nun in the back. “I’ll bet.”
“Just get us away from here, and you can talk.” She sighed inwardly. So much for her nice relaxing night. Ryan only came to her with the nasty cases. The ones where he had no clue.
Her unique talents enabled her to find things, including people. The first time that had happened, it had been by accident. She’d been watching a newsflash about a kidnapped girl, and all of a sudden, she’d had a vision, seen where the girl was being held, and known she was about to die. Roz had phoned the police but was met with disbelief, so she’d gone to the station and eventually managed to get an interview with Ryan, the lead officer on the case.
He hadn’t wanted to believe her either, but something must have made him take the chance.
After that first time, she’d promised to help with other cases, but only if he agreed to keep her input a secret, and only in life and death situations. Because if certain people became aware of what she was, her own life would be forfeit. Asmodai had told her that much.
She understood it was her way of payback. You didn’t become indebted to a demon and expect to live a decent, honest life. She’d done some bad things in her time. Nothing she couldn’t live with; Asmodai had always seemed to know what lines she wouldn’t cross, and if she didn’t always ask why he wanted the things she “found” for him, then she thought she could be excused a little self-deception.
The truth was, five hundred years ago, she hadn’t wanted to die, certainly not on top of some peasant villagers’ bonfire, and she didn’t want to die now. What she did crave was her freedom.
Ryan drove out onto the road and opened his mouth, but she butted in first.
“Not here. You can come to my place and tell me.” He knew where she lived—he’d dropped her off before —but he’d never been inside. Her home was private, but tonight she would share it with Sister Maria. Besides, she reckoned she was nearly done with this life; it was almost time to move on and set up a new identity for herself. It would have to be away from London, at least for a while.
After fifteen minutes, Ryan pulled up in the underground parking beneath her building.
“You’re really letting me in?” he asked as he grabbed a file from the side-pocket of the vehicle and climbed out.
She shrugged. “Well, we do have a chaperone.” She waved at Sister Maria, who half-clambered, half-fell out of the back of the SUV.
“You are going to tell me what this is all about, aren’t you?”
“Nope.”
They were silent as she led them to the elevator and pressed the button to the top floor. When the doors slid open, she fished her keys out of her bag and let them in.
Ryan whistled. “Nice.”
She strolled across the floor toward the sofa, tugging the headdress off then tossing it in the nearest bin.
“Jesus, that’s a relief.” She fluffed up her short hair with her fingers. “If I’d had to wear that thing one more day, I swear I might have gone seriously insane.” She glanced back to see the shock on Maria’s face. “Feel free to do the same,” she said. “Plenty of room in the bin.” Maria didn’t respond, just sidled around the edge of the room and watched her as though Roz had suddenly morphed into the antichrist.
“Make yourselves at home,” Roz said. “I’ll be right back.”
She strolled into the bedroom, slamming the door closed behind her. Not bothering to unfasten the tiny buttons, she ripped the hated robe open to the waist and dragged it down over her hips.
Her shoes went next, then the scratchy cotton underwear followed them onto the growing pile, until finally, she stood naked in the middle of the room. She scowled as she glared at the sigil circling her right arm. The mark of her bondage. And here for the foreseeable future—who knew when she would be rid of it now her supposedly last job had gone so badly wrong.
After pulling some clothes out of the wardrobe—panties, jeans, a black T-shirt—she dressed quickly, ran a hand through her hair, and headed back into the living room. She didn’t feel comfortable leaving the nun and the detective alone together.
She needn’t have worried. Ryan was at the bookcase scanning the titles, no doubt trying to fill in the gaps he didn’t know about her, as though her reading material would do that. Maria was still standing exactly where she’d been, just inside the door. Her eyes widened as she took in Roz’s changed appearance.
“Sister Rosa?”
Roz shrugged. “No one by that name here. I’m Roz. Why don’t you sit down and make yourself at home.” She waved toward the cream sofa, and Maria hesitantly shuffled across and collapsed, hands clenched on her lap. The woman was so uptight.
“And you, Ryan. Stop nosing about—you won’t find anything.”
He picked up a book. “
“It is. Feel free to borrow it. Now sit down—you’re making the place look messy.”
Ryan glanced at the sofa but obviously thought better of seating himself too close to Maria and sank down onto the chair opposite, the file clutched in his hand.
Roz got a bottle of scotch from the cabinet and three glasses then sat beside Maria. She poured drinks, pushed one across the coffee table toward Ryan and handed a second to Maria, who peered at the amber liquid as though it were poison.
“Go on,” Roz said. “I won’t tell, and it will make you feel better.”
She swallowed her own in a single gulp and poured another. Sister Maria watched her then copied her, swallowed the drink in one go, and held out her glass for more.
Roz raised an eyebrow but topped up the drink and turned to Ryan. “Okay, what do you want?”
He glanced toward Sister Maria. “Is she okay to hear this?”
“She’s fine.” Besides, she didn’t think Sister Maria was taking much in. Even before the scotch, she’d been developing a glazed expression in her eyes. Now she was resting back against the sofa, her eyes closed.
Ryan placed the file on the coffee table and slid it toward her. “We have a missing girl, Jessica Thomas. Fifteen years old, disappeared about twenty-four hours ago as far as we can tell.”
Dread filled her. So many times, Ryan came to her too late, and the victim was found dead. She hoped that wasn’t the case this time, but twenty-four hours was quick for him to involve Roz, and she knew there must be something else. No doubt, Ryan would tell her when he was ready.
The file was light and when she opened it, she found a single photograph and a sheet of paper. She scanned it quickly; just bare details. The photo showed a pretty girl, slightly plump with dark hair and a sweet smile.
