Shadow Duel (Prof Croft Book 9) by Brad Magnarella (ereader with android .txt) 📕

couple prints from his desk and we’re running them through the databases. We’ll also do a facial recognition search on his photo, see what turns up. The news stations will start broadcasting it this afternoon. That’s everything from here. I’ll keep you posted.”

I looked over my notes on the reading, trying to decipher what part of it pertained to Sven. But my gaze kept bouncing to the end. I sat back and massaged my closed eyes.

“Hey, uh, the hags said some things in there,” Bree-yark ventured.

“Oh, you mean about my failed relationships?” I gave a dismal laugh. “All true, sadly.”

“I mean the part about your wife and daughter. You know, about being worried you couldn’t protect them? Afraid you might hurt them? You’re always letting me get stuff off my chest. Can I return the favor?”

“I think they’re concerns any expecting father has.”

“And what was that thing about living up to your parents’ example?”

Once again, the horrors of my parents’ final moments jagged through me. My mother succumbing to the Death Mage’s fire. My father plunging into the abyss. Both acts had been sacrifices meant in part to protect me.

Wage, young mage, till your final breath,

And come night’s fall, accept your death.

“Hag speak,” I repeated.

“Everson, you gave me a look back there…”

“Yeah,” I sighed, revisiting the blistering flash when he’d seized my arm. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me, but you’re probably right. The hags dragged out some pretty raw stuff.”

“Well, if you ever want to talk, the offer stands.”

“I know, man.” I clapped his thick upper arm. “And I appreciate it.”

“What’s the wifey gonna say about your bargain back there?”

“Only one way to find out.” I opened my phone and called her.

“Hey,” she answered. “How’s the hunt going?”

“Not great, I’m afraid.” I took a few minutes telling her about our visit to Mr. Han’s and then the hag sisters’. “And don’t get mad, but I kind of, sort of bargained away a year of my youth in exchange for a reading.”

“A year of your what?”

I winced. “It wasn’t a bad deal, actually, and I think I got some good stuff.”

“We’ll talk more about that later,” she said sternly. “I was just about to call you. There’s some case info Hoffman wanted me to share. First, the lawyer has moved to the top of the suspect list. Vince Cole.”

“No kidding?”

“The electronic warrant turned up a history of exchanges with Goldburn’s wife—arrangements to meet, that sort of thing. Possibly an affair. Given that the victim was last seen alive with Cole, it’s pretty damning.”

“Is he talking?”

“He admits to meeting with Mrs. Goldburn, but he says they weren’t romantic. He was friends with her before the separation, and he claims they were discussing Bear’s welfare. He wouldn’t get more specific. He also says he picked up Bear that night. They went to the Brooklyn bar you saw in your spell.”

I’d been wrong about the body shop, but one for two as far as locations wasn’t terrible. And it lined up with my theory that the disabling drink Bear had taken down also contained a hallucinogenic component. That was the dividing line between what Bear actually experienced and what he thought he experienced.

“But Goldburn wasn’t sacked as CEO,” she said.

“What? Are you sure? Maybe Ramsa Inc. just didn’t want that info getting out.”

“Cole knew nothing about it, and the board members deny it to the last. There wasn’t even a meeting that afternoon.”

I revisited Bear’s memories. He’d been drunk while replaying the emergency meeting, but I could see it clearly. The accusations and his shouted counteraccusations; the stoic faces of the board members; his fury and betrayal and pain. As far as he knew, he had been sacked. What in the hell was going on?

“Anyway, Cole claims to have dropped him back at the apartment at one a.m. He said Goldburn had a key to a personnel entrance off the alleyway. He’d use it when he’d come home blitzed and didn’t want to be observed, given his high profile and everything.”

I refocused. “And the entrance checked out?”

“It leads to a service elevator. Goldburn could have made the entire trip back to his penthouse without being seen. Earlier footage shows a similar pattern—him leaving at night and not reappearing on the security cams until he left again the next day. Cole denies accompanying him up to the penthouse, says he went straight home. Cell tower data will establish that one way or the other.”

There seemed to go my translocation theory, which didn’t make me feel better or worse. Just more confused. Had Vince Cole or a lookalike done the deed in his apartment?

“Is he in custody?” I asked.

“No, nothing connects him to the actual murder. Hoffman made an appointment for you to check out the stomach contents.”

“What time?”

“Can you be at the medical examiner’s in thirty? Hoffman’s freaking out. He needs something to stick on Cole.”

“Sure, just one more thing.” Confessing my bargain with the hag sisters wasn’t the only reason I’d called. My thoughts turned now to what Gretchen had told me about the breach in my lab, or lack thereof. “I was thinking it might be safest if you and Tony stay at your brother’s, at least for tonight.”

“Carlos’s?”

I didn’t like it any more than she did, especially since Carlos still considered me a terrible choice for his sister and her son. His main issue was and remained the extra danger I introduced to their lives. And now here I was, suggesting he look after them because of the extra danger I’d introduced to their lives.

“That box I brought home yesterday?” I said. “Gretchen thinks it’s connected to some sort of cult worship for the Greek god Hermes. Someone took it from my lab, and it wasn’t Claudius.”

“Someone got into the apartment?”

“I can’t think of another explanation.”

“You don’t think Claudius took it and just forgot?”

“I already asked him, and he has this … biological system for working out how many times he translocates. He says he only came for