Isabella turned on Fallon, outraged all over again.
“He’s a rat, but rodents have their place in the feeding chain.” Fallon crossed the room to close the sliding glass door. “Occasionally he’s my rat. Besides, I know how to find him.”
“You’ve actually used that dreadful little man to deliver messages to people?”
“Lockett is a professional, and he has connections at all levels of our world.”
“You mean the world of private investigators?”
“No, the community of people with talent. Sensitives inhabit the entire ecosphere of society. We’ve got our thieves, scam artists and drug runners, just like we’ve got our CEOs, academics and politicians. There are good guys and bad guys in our world just as there are in the rest of society. Lockett is one of the few people I know who can move from the streets to the boardroom to government circles and back again. In his own way, he’s trustworthy. I’ve used him before and I’ll probably use him again.”
“I see.” She sniffed. “Well, I suppose professional investigators like us have to be practical about this sort of thing.”
“I’m afraid so. Talent is talent and in my experience, really good, reliable talent is hard to come by.”
“He’s a little weasel of a man, though.”
“I’ll give you that,” Fallon said. “But if it’s any comfort, he won’t ever bother you again.”
She thought about the panic in the Messenger’s voice when, for a brief moment, he thought he was facing death at Fallon’s hands. “I think you’re right about that. What about the money?”
“Hang on a second.” He took his phone out of his pocket and punched in a code. “Dargan, it’s Jones.” There was a short pause. “What do you mean which Jones? Fallon Jones . . . You’re right, I’m the only Jones who would be calling you at three o’clock in the morning. Unfortunately for both of us, you happen to be the best tracking hunter on my list in the Sedona area. I want you to keep tabs on a man named Kit Lockett. He’ll be using some other name, but I’m going to e-mail you a photo and profile, which includes his home address, make and model of his car, credit card info and favorite bars. He just left the Cloud Resort here in Sedona. He’ll be staying somewhere nearby. Find him and keep an eye on him.”
Isabella folded her arms and listened while Fallon issued instructions with surgical precision.
“No, I don’t want you to grab him,” Fallon said. “I gave him a message to deliver to one of his clients twenty-four hours from now. He always does that part of his job in person so that there is no electronic trail; otherwise I’d have one of the cryptos handle this. He’ll be making contact with someone soon. I want the name.”
And suddenly Isabella understood.
Fallon closed the phone and dropped it into his pocket. He paused, brows slightly elevated, when he saw Isabella looking at him.
“Of course,” she said, satisfied. “You want to find out who tried to bribe me.”
“That’s the idea,” Fallon said.
“Ha. I should have thought of that right away. Can’t wait to see which dumbass in the Society thinks I can be bribed for a lousy hundred thou.”
Fallon grinned briefly. “A
“Okay, so I’ve never seen that much money in one place at one time in my life. That’s hardly the point.”
“What is the point?”
“I am deeply offended. Pissed off, actually. My honor has been impugned or something.”
“I’m a little irritated myself.” He picked up the slip of paper that was on the console.
“Wonder what the client will do when he realizes I’m not going to take the money,” Isabella said.
“I don’t think the client cares whether or not you accept the bribe.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The idea is to make sure that there’s a trail from this account that leads straight back to you,” Fallon explained. “Trust me, whoever goes looking will soon find out that it is in the name of Isabella Valdez. Word of the bribe will be all over Arcane within hours after the discovery is made.”
“In other words, it’s all about making me look guilty.”
“Yes.” Fallon opened the slider again and made a move onto the patio.
“Wait.” She hurried to the door. “Where are you going?”
“Back to my room. I need to go online.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Close that bank account and make sure there is no link to you.”
“But what about the money?”
He kissed her lightly. “I’ve got a plan for that.”
“What plan?”
“No reason it shouldn’t go to a good cause. I’m going to transfer it into the Society’s Foundation Trust.”
She smiled. “Someone just made a generous donation to further paranormal research?”
“At the moment it’s an anonymous donor,” Fallon said. “But I hope to be in a position to personally thank the individual very soon.”
26
The aging trailer sat on the last concrete slab in the last row of the Desert Palms Trailer Court. Fallon brought the rental car to a halt.
“This is it?” he asked.
“Yes.” Isabella contemplated the trailer, afraid to open her other vision. There was a forlorn air of neglect about the place. The inside shades were pulled shut. “What if I’m wrong, Fallon? What if she really is dead?”
“We’ll deal with that when we have more data.”
She half smiled at his bracing, no-nonsense statement. “I love it when you do that, you know.”
“When I do what?”
“Insist on collecting the facts before leaping to a conclusion.”
He opened the door. “I’ve been told that it drives most people nuts.”
“That’s because they don’t understand. I really can’t imagine why so many people think you’re prone to finding conspiracies around every corner.”
She got out and waited while he came around the car to join her.
“See anything?” he asked.
She knew what he meant.
“I’m afraid to look,” she admitted.
“But you’ll do it because you’re an intrepid J&J investigator.”
“There is that.” She braced herself and raised her talent.
Energy enveloped the trailer. She drew a sharp breath.
Fallon watched her. “Something needs finding?”
“Yes.” Jolted, she started forward. “Whatever it is, it’s very hot. That means it’s important. Oh, Fallon, I should have come here sooner.”
“Take it easy.” He caught up with her. “You handled things the way your grandmother wanted them handled. If there’s something in that trailer to be found, we’ll find it. In fact, she probably meant for you to find it with me, not on your own.”
“Maybe.” She dug the key out of her purse and went up the three steps.
The door of the neighboring trailer swung open. A woman with tightly permed blue hair peered out. “About time you showed up, Elly.”
Isabella exchanged a quick glance with Fallon. She could tell that he understood that when she came here to visit her grandmother she used yet another ID.
“Hello, Mrs. Ragsdale,” Isabella said politely. “Nice to see you again.”
