Page 40 of Heir of Ashes

Logan stepped out and stopped outside the bathroom door. Regret and something else—pity?—flickered in his eyes. He stood there, dressed in the bathrobe with the Hilton logo, his hair dripping, his face freshly shaven. His stance was easy, relaxed—almost placating. He looked like he was waiting for me to make the first move or say something. Anything. Was he afraid I’d bolt or scream for help if he came closer? We had more important things to consider, more pressing matters at hand.

Like the fact if we didn’t find my mother at any of the addresses, I should conclude our bargain and let him go rescue his friend. I had a vivid image of what the PSS was doing to him. There was no reason I couldn’t search for my mother on my own. I’d give Logan the information he needed, take whatever payment he gave me, part ways, and keep trying to survive. Alone. I was annoyed at my regret for messing up what couldhave been something nice if we hadn’t misunderstood each other. Nothing to do about it now.

“It’s late. Do you think we can still go?” I asked.

“I guess we can. Give me a couple of minutes to get dressed.”

***

We went to the Midtown address first, a townhouse in Washington Park Village. We passed straight by it without slowing down, and per Logan’s instructions, I didn’t turn to study the house.

We were searching for a stakeout, a nondescript car with someone inside, or anything out of place. It was cold, but the weather didn’t deter people from going out—teenagers hanging around in groups, couples strolling hand-in-hand, a guy walking his dog.

Logan had gotten us both disguises to prevent instant recognition—a blonde wig and round, clear glasses for me, and mustache, blond wig, and green contact lenses for him. We passed the house in question, and I tried looking for something inconspicuous or out of place, but Midtown was not a place where oddities stood out easily. There was a white sedan parked in the slot belonging to the house, and a light in the second-floor window was on. We didn’t find any PSS vans in the neighborhood, but it didn’t mean they weren’t there. We circled around for almost an hour with the same result. We would be returning in the morning.

We went to Hollywood Park after that. My old neighborhood looked familiar. I devoured the scene with hungry eyes. We passed the local school where I had played many times as a kid. When we passed Tommy’s parents’ house, all the lights were on, and it seemed somehow smaller than I remembered it. The Santanas could certainly afford a better home in a wealthier area, but they’d lived in that house forever, passing it downfrom generation to generation. A couple of houses down, we passed Vicky’s home and, in contrast to Tommy’s glowing house, Vicky’s was cast in shadows. When we passed the house I had lived in, the lights were on and there were toys on the porch. The single swing was still there, red instead of yellow. I looked away.

A couple of houses down was the second address on our list. Right before we passed, the door opened, and a man and a woman stepped out, the man holding the woman’s hand. She was short, African-American, and the man was tall and just as dark.

“Not this one.”

We had just narrowed our choices to two. But Tommy’s words had hinted as much. If my mother was still around, Tommy would have told me.

Sierra Oaks Vista was one of the finest parts of Sacramento. The houses were fancy, big estate-like, and far apart. The house we were looking for sat on a corner lot, surrounded by a ten-foot wall. I bet it was one of the most coveted lots in the area. Big ancient-looking oak and sycamore trees stood tall and proud like sentinels, providing lots of shadows and privacy. Through the thick iron-barred gate, I could see that the driveway wound around the two-story house and to the back. The street was narrow with no sidewalks and empty of cars, making it pretty obvious the PSS wasn’t around. Still, there were plenty of trees and dark, shadowy spots surrounded by thick tree trunks where a guard or three could hide and keep watch.

It was autumn, and some of the trees were almost completely bare, but others still had enough leaves to hide a determined person, especially the trees near the evergreens. Besides, the PSS had enough clout in the government to get permission to invade one of the neighboring houses and set up an operation room. Although, the ten-foot wall surrounding theproperty, combined with the trees, would make spying from the neighboring house almost impossible. They needed to be closer. If they couldn’t just park on the street and watch, where would they be? Assuming, of course, they were actually there.

This was probably a big waste of time. I should have been focusing my energy on disappearing. Mother probably knew nothing about my other nature and wrote me off the moment I was taken. Or she knew and was glad I was gone. In which case, I needed to know what she knew. I sagged in my seat and closed my eyes, fighting off the weariness. God, I was tired.

We drove past the property and, every few yards, I could feel Logan’s heavy gaze weighing on me. I touched the letter opener in my pocket, the one I had taken from the hotel after the incident.A full circle, Roxy. Just another full circle.

I clenched the plastic letter opener once, hard enough for it to dig into the palm of my hand.

“We’ll find a way,” he assured me sometime later.

“Sure.” My skepticism came through loud and clear. I didn’t think we’d be able to tell which house belonged to my mother unless we triggered the PSS’s radar. She could even be living in another state for all we knew. And maybe the PSS wasn’t even there.

I should be focusing on getting away.

We pulled into a McDonald’s drive-thru. While we waited, I felt Logan’s eyes on me. Again, I ignored him.

“I’ve been thinking …” he said, and I felt a sarcastic retort bubbling inside me, but I held it back. It wasn’t his fault I was in a bad mood.

I shifted, looking directly at him for the first time in a long while. His green-gray eyes and blond mustache didn’t do him justice. The toupee was a little long and looked weird on him, but maybe I felt this way because I liked the previous look better.

“There’s this thing nagging at me. I recollect events I’ve seen in the past and compare them to what happened today, and no matter how I look at it, I keep hitting the same wall.” He paused, and I raised an eyebrow, indicating he go on.

He kept both his hands on the steering wheel, a gesture that felt deliberate. He scanned my face before continuing. “I have never in my whole life frightened a woman to the point of terror. Hell, I don’t remember ever frightening a woman. Period.” He took a long breath and exhaled noisily. I didn’t like where this was going. He was too observant, too intuitive for my liking. “In the shower, I thought about what I could have possibly done to give you such a wrong impression, but no matter how I looked at it, I couldn’t find the trigger—”

“I can refresh your memory for you if you’re having trouble,” I interrupted. My sarcasm bounced right off him.

“I kissed you to prove a point—”

“That you’re stronger, superior, faster—”

“Let me speak!” he snapped, and I could hear the tiny vibrations of a growl.

I shut up.