Part 31 (2/2)
”And,” he interrupted stubbornly, ”until you can guarantee no more horror movie rejects will be out and about on my streets.”
”Your streets?” Leah asked.
”It's a cop thing,” Henry told her before Jack could answer. ”They're all remarkably possessive.”
”Well, you'd know possessive. I should go with you,” she added crossing the office as he took Jack's money and folded it into the front pocket of his jeans. ”Just in case.”
”In case there's an attack on you while Tony sleeps?”
She moved a little closer and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. ”With Tony out, you're my best bet.”
Henry stared for a long moment at the creamy flesh below the curve of her ear. ”No,” he said at last. ”Too great a risk.”
”You think that's a greater risk than running into a new demonic minion?”
He gave her back the smile she'd given him earlier. ”I do.” ”What the h.e.l.l is going on between those two?” Jack muttered as Leah returned to the astrological charts on the desk and Henry headed for the back door.
”You don't know?”
He turned to see Groves standing tucked in behind his left shoulder. ”No,” he snapped, putting some decent distance between them. ”I don't know.”
The reporter shuddered. ”Lucky.”
”You know?” Stupid question. He obviously thought he did. ”So, what's going on?”
And why is a romance writer a better choice to protect her than an armed police officer?
Groves answered the actual question instead of the subtext. ”She tried for power over him. He threatened to kill her.”
Jack blinked. ”You're completely bugf.u.c.k; you know that, right?”
It wasn't so much a book Henry dropped on the desk as a collection of loose pages stuffed between wooden covers. The pages were paler and the writing darker, but that, Jack realized, had more to do with the way Groves' page had been stored than any actual differences.
He wasn't a big believer in inanimate objects having an aura-in the last few months new and unusual animate objects had pretty much used up all available ability to believe-but under oath on the stand he'd say this book felt unpleasant. He was just as glad he wasn't the one with his nose barely an inch above the writing.
”Do you think you could avoid dropping sprinkles on a priceless literary artifact?” Henry carefully swept a bit of orange icing off the top sheet.
Jack backed up a step. Not like he minded being farther away from that book. ”So what's it say?”
”I'll let you know when I've got it in order.” Leah sat back, rubbing her eyes, then bent forward again. ”This page seems to be more dates. This is a description of a body, the injuries, and how it was found. Oh, this is about the woman who found it and what relations.h.i.+p she was to the... well to either the dead guy, a dead guy who might not be that dead guy, or to the person writing.
Boring stuff so far.”
”It sounds like a police report.”
She looked up and nodded. Jack barely resisted the effort to reach out and push her hair off her face. ”It could be. Somewhere in here, there's probably information on who's writing and why. It's going to take a while before I can find anything that's going to do us any good. If there's anything in here.” She yawned. ”I'm beat, and my eyes hurt. I need some sleep.”
”We need the information.”
”Then you stay up and get it.”
”He can't read it,” Jack reminded her as Henry checked his watch. ”And we're all tired.” Dimples flashed. ”Then we should all find a bed.”
”Cute.” A strangled noise flicked his attention momentarily to the reporter. From the expression on Groves' face, he couldn't take a joke. ”But you're right...” Back to Leah. ”... we've got to sleep sometime.” And finally to Chester Bane. ”If you closed the studio, we could make this our command center.”
The big man shook his head. ”I can't afford to lose a day's work. Make it your command center with the studio open.”
”And if a demon shows up when the director yells quiet, we all just pause until the camera's off?”
”Yes. That should be sufficient.”
Jack studied his face and realized: ”You're not kidding.”
”I don't kid. The studio stays open.”
”We should be safe enough tomorrow,” Leah told him, covering another yawn. ”One way or another, we dealt with the two weak spots I could sense.”
”Fine.” Since no one was listening to reason and since the RCMP wasn't backing his play, giving him no official weight to throw around, he'd just have to make the best of things. ”Tony's security system has been breached. Is it still functional?”
”No.” Leah pulled the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands and folded her arms. ”I crossed it with no reaction when I got Kevin from the office.”
”Why would it respond to you?”
”Everything responds to me.”
She sounded so matter-of-fact about it, Jack decided not to argue. ”All right.” He drained the last sweet dredges of his coffee. ”If we can get some more cough syrup, Tony can resecure the perimeter when he wakes up.”
”Cough syrup?”
Jack explained quickly, and Chester Bane nodded.
”Get me an empty bottle, and I'll see that he has what he needs.”
”Good. And tell your people that a rain of cherries is the sign to hit the deck.” He glanced around the office set. ”You got a shower in this place?”
”Two.” The producer held up the requisite number of fingers. ”There are en suites in both of the large dressing rooms although I'd advise you not to use Mason's. Mr. Nicholas is likely to be much more reasonable, particularly as he is aware of what's going on.”
”Maybe you'd better talk to him, then.” Jack tilted his head back and stared over the tops of the walls, up into the grid hanging from the ceiling. ”It's a big place. When your crew shows up, we'll just stay out of each other's way. We'll send...” He paused, leaned back until he could see the end of the chaise and frowned. ”What the h.e.l.l is the name of the guy with Tony?”
”Zev Sero. The musical director. Although he and Mr. Foster are no longer...” A pause. ”Ah. With. Currently. Never mind.”
”Send him home. Whether he comes back is up to you two.” If it was up to Jack, he'd send Chester Bane home as well. The last thing they needed was more civilians around. ”You...” Groves jumped. ”I'm not inclined to let you out of my sight in case this all shows up on page one next to the cow that does Elvis impersonations.”
”It won't.” He was facing Jack but looking at Henry, picking at the cuticle around his right thumb, two spots of color high on each cheek. ”I promise.” The look was either terror or love, and in this crowd, Jack figured the odds were pretty much even. ”You break that promise and...”
”Trust me, Constable Elson,” Groves interrupted, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, ”there's no need to make threats. I know what's at stake. Oh, G.o.d!” Both hands rose to cover his mouth. ”I didn't mean to say stake!”
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