cleaning, wiping off the tables and booths, flipping the My frown deepened. I opened my eyes, dropped my sign on the front door over to open. He could have taken hand, and stepped away from the brick. I looked at the me out at any time during the morning. So why hadn’t he room again with a more critical eye, putting all the facts taken a shot before lunchtime? Why then?
together.
I went back over the shooting in my mind. I’d been There was nothing in the apartment, no trash, no shell standing behind the counter when the shots had been casings, no emotions, because Jake McAllister hadn’t been fired. A tough shot to make, even for a professional assashere. He wasn’t smart enough, wasn’t calm enough for sin, no matter how good with a gun he was. Maybe he’d this sort of action. This—this was the work of a profeswanted an audience when he killed me. Maybe that’s why sional.
he’d waited. Finn had been in the restaurant, standing off An assassin, just like me.
to my left. The girl had been there too, more or less in My gray eyes narrowed. So Jake, or more likely Jonah front of me—
McAllister, had hired a big boy to clean up his son’s mess. And I realized what I’d been missing. The shooter, the Now I was really annoyed.
assassin, hadn’t been firing at me.
But still . . . I couldn’t shake the feeling I was missHe’d been aiming at the girl. ing something. Something important. Vital. obvious. My reading, my sense, of the vibrations in the stone was correct. I knew it was. Even from an early age, I’d been able to hear the stone murmuring to me, and my power to understand and interpret it had only sharpened and strengthened over time. And would continue to do so until I died, hopefully at the ripe age of a hundred and fifty or so.
From the vibrations I’d picked up, the shooter had been waiting the better part of an hour. Maybe longer. Sophia came in early, usually by nine, to start baking the day’s bread. I usually showed up around ten, and the restaurant officially opened for business at eleven. But the shots hadn’t been fired until almost noon. Why? Why had the assassin waited so long? I’d been Estep_Web of Lies_1P EP.indd 68-69
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Maybe the assassin had realized that if he took out the girl in the restaurant, there was a good chance her death would be connected to Jake McAllister and the robbery 6
last night. No doubt the cops would have had the same first thought as me—that Jake or whomever he might have hired had been aiming at me, not the girl. That I’d been the target. That Jake had wanted to silence me and make all the charges against himself just disappear. Given all that, the police wouldn’t be inclined to look too hard in other directions, to consider other theories. Like the fact the girl had been the intended victim all along. And if laying the blame on Jake McAllister didn’t work, well, there was another option. The Pork Pit wasn’t officially located in Southtown, but it was only a couple The girl, Violet. The shooter had been aiming at her, not of streets over, which meant the whole area had its share me.
of crime. Drug deals, shootings, domestic disputes. one That was the only thing that made sense. The assasor more of those happened every day of the week. sin could have shot me any time I’d been close to the Given the rough neighborhood, the girl’s death today storefront windows. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d sat in might have just been chalked up to random violence in this apartment for almost an hour, waiting for her. She’d the area, if the cops were feeling particularly lazy. Some been sitting in a booth in the back, out of sight of the sort of drive-by or gang shooting that she’d been unlucky storefront windows, so he’d had to wait for her to finish enough to get in the middle of. A ten-year-old kid and his her lunch. When she’d paid and started for the front door, younger sister had gotten caught up in one of those last that’s when he’d taken his shot.
week, less than a half mile from the restaurant. My mind processed the information and moved on to Either way, nobody would think it had been a planned the next question. Why shoot her inside the restaurant?
hit. The best assassinations were always the ones that Why not wait for her to step outside onto the street? Why looked like something else. A nice, neat, easy plan all the not just do her in some back alley?
way around.
The answer came to me. The robbery. The assassin Maybe the assassin had been following the girl, lookmust have seen the story in the newspaper about the ing for just such an opportunity. Maybe he’d known she botched robbery at the Pork Pit.
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about somebody named the Tin Man. Either way, when it was directed at her. Hey, you wasn’t the most personal she’d gone into the restaurant, he’d decided to make sure of greetings. So I picked up my pace, running at a full that she never came out again. It would have been easy sprint. If the street had been empty, I might have reached for him to slip into the building unseen, find the empty her. But every five steps, I had to duck right or left to apartment, and jimmy the lock. All he would have ahd avoid someone talking on their cell phone. to do after that was wait for the right moment, the right I reached the end of my block. on the corner across angle, and then pull the trigger.
from me, the girl had settled into the cab. I stepped out I stared at the cracked storefront of the Pork Pit. He onto the street, my eyes fixed on the bright yellow vewould have hit her too—four kill shots clustered in her hicle—
chest.
Beep! Beep!
If the restaurant didn’t have bulletproof windows. And abruptly stepped back as a car horn blared out. A No, this didn’t have anything to do with Jake McAllissecond later, a minivan zoomed by, running the red light. ter and me. The girl—it was all about the girl. Somebody The driver shot me a dirty look.
wanted her dead.
“Red means stop, you twit!” I screamed.
As I stood there brooding, the front door of the She didn’t see me flip her off. Too busy nattering away restaurant opened. Violet stepped outside and hurried on her cell phone to do something safe, like pay attention away.
to pedestrians and traffic signals. And she’d cost me any
“Fuck,” I snarled and sprinted from the apartment. chance I’d had of catching the girl. Up ahead, the cab had already pulled out into traffic. Five seconds later, it turned The assassin was long gone, so I didn’t bother reaching right, disappearing from sight.
for my Stone magic to harden my skin again. Besides, he Gone. The girl was gone.
wasn’t after me anyway. Instead, I ran down the stairs and And I had no idea where she went or more imporout of the apartment building. I hung a left and sprinted tantly, why someone had tried to kill her. down the block in the direction the girl had gone. I stood there a moment, cursing my own stupidity. I She must have been power walking because she was should have known the second the girl asked for the Tin already a full block ahead of me. She raised her arm, and Man that something was seriously wrong. That it wasn’t a cab slid to a stop at the curb in front of her. just a fluke or an accident or dumb luck. That trouble
“Hey, you!” I yelled. “Stop!”
had just walked into the Pork Pit.
The girl paid no attention to me. I was too far away for Trouble that had gotten away from me.
my voice to carry over the traffic on the street. Even if she
“Fuck,” I snarled again before turning and heading had heard my cry, she probably wouldn’t have thought back to the restaurant.
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*
*
*
“I just need to find her before the assassin decides to make I tucked my knives up my sleeves and slowly, calmly, quianother run at her.”
etly strolled the block and a half back to the Pork
Pit.
“Why?” Finn asked. “It’s her problem, not yours.”
No need to draw any more attention to myself today. If I I stared at him. “Because she comes in here asking kept this up, somebody might call the police and report a about the Tin Man, asking about Fletcher, and a minute crazy woman. Not too long ago, I’d spent several days in later, somebody’s shooting at her. I want to know why. Ashland Asylum on one of my jobs. I had no desire to pay Why she came here, what her connection to Fletcher is, the facility a return visit.
all of it.”
A couple minutes later, I stepped into the Pork Pit. Mainly, I wanted to make sure there was no way her Sophia was adding some red pepper and paprika to her almost or future murder was going to get laid on my macaroni salad. Finn sat on his usual stool, sipping andoorstep or on Finn or the Deveraux sisters. Covering other cup of chicory coffee and reading the rest of the myself had been one of the first things Fletcher Lane had financial section.
taught me.
“Problems?” he quipped.
“Now, what happened after I left? Did she say anyI gave him a sour glare. thing, do anything?”
“I only ask because a) you’re not smiling and covered Finn shook his head. “No. She sat there a minute getin someone else’s blood, and b) I saw you run out of the ting her breath back; then she got up and left.”
building across the street like there were a pack of hungry My gray eyes narrowed. “And you didn’t try to stop vampires after you,” Finn said. “I take it Jake McAllister her?”
managed to allude you?”
Finn shrugged. “I figured as long as she wasn’t screamI shook my head. “It wasn’t McAllister. The shooter ing and calling the cops, it was all right. We both thought wasn’t even gunning for me. He was aiming at the girl.”
it was Jake McAllister shooting at you, not somebody else I filled Finn and Sophia in on my theory about the gunning for her.”
shooter being a pro and my conclusion his target had I bit back another curse. Finn was right. It wasn’t his been the girl, not me.
fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. Still, I needed some anFinn let out a low whistle. “Someone hired an assassin swers, and the girl was the only one who could give them to take out the girl? She must have really pissed somebody to me. But she was miles away by now. So how could I off.”
track her down? I thought for a second, then went over
“Mmm-hmm.” Behind the counter, Sophia grunted to the counter.
her agreement.
“Uh-oh,” Finn muttered. “I know that look.”
“I don’t care who she’s pissed off right now,” I snapped.
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“That look. The one that makes you resemble a hibernating bear someone just poked with a sharp stick. The look that says you’re not going to let this go, even though it’s not your problem.”
I put my hand over my heart and batted my lashes at 7
him. “You know me all too well.”
“But how are you going to find her?” Finn asked. “She didn’t exactly leave you a personal dossier.”
My fingers probed the dark space under the cash register. There it was. I pulled out a scrap of paper from beneath the register. The girl’s credit card receipt from lunch. The one with her name on it. Violet Fox. Not as good as a dossier, but it was a place to start.
“oh, I’m not going to find her,” I said in a sweet voice.
“Don’t say it,” he pleaded. “Please don’t say it.”
“Anything yet?”
I held the piece of paper out to him. “I’m not going to Finn glared over his shoulder at me. “It’s only been two find her because you’re going to do it for me.”
hours, Gin. Keep your panties on.”
Finn just sighed and took another sip of his coffee. I glared back and stuck my tongue out at him. He grinned. “Don’t stick it out unless you plan to use it.”
I snorted. “You wish.”
“Always.”
After I’d told Finn to track down the college girl using her credit card receipt, he’d gone to his office to get his laptop and some other supplies and tell the money men he was taking the rest of the day off. While he’d done that, I’d scheduled an appointment for a glazier to come fix the storefront windows in the morning. Then I’d sent Sophia home, closed down the restaurant, and driven to Fletcher’s house. That had taken an hour.
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laxed on the faded plaid sofa in the den, while I puttered
“Any luck with that?” Finn asked.
around in the kitchen. Given all the excitement, I hadn’t
“No.”
had a chance to eat lunch at the restaurant, and I had Shortly after Fletcher’s funeral, I’d told Finn about a feeling it was going to be a long night. That’s why I’d the file and the secrets it held, including my real name—
made chicken salad sandwiches on thick, honey-wheat Genevieve Snow. I’d let him sort through the information bread, along with a fresh fruit salad.
and draw his own conclusions about everything else. InI put the food on a tray, along with plates, silverware, cluding what had happened the night my mother, Eira, napkins, and a pitcher of raspberry lemonade. Then I and older sister, Annabella, had been murdered by a Fire reached for my Ice magic. The cold, silver light flickered elemental. For a moment, orange flames filled my vision. on my palm, centered over the spider rune scar, and I The image of two burned husks of bodies flashed before dropped several Ice cubes into the two glasses on the tray. my eyes, and the air smelled of charred flesh. I willed the I took the whole thing into the den and set it on the cofmemory away. fee table.
“You should let me help you with that,” Finn said. “I I sat cross-legged in one of the recliners and munched have contacts you don’t.”
on a sandwich. Celery, apples, golden raisins, lemon zest, I shook my head. “No. Not . . . yet. I still don’t know and a sour cream–mayo dressing flavored the chicken how I feel about it.”
salad, while the crusty bread provided crunch and con“About what?”
trast. I alternated with bites of my strawberry-and-kiwi
“About the old man knowing who I really was all these fruit salad, tossed with lime juice, vanilla, and just a hint years and not saying anything to me about it. About him of honey.
collecting all that information about my family.”
Finn also helped himself to a sandwich and some fruit, The spider rune scars on my palms started itching, the and we ate in silence. Finn’s laptop whirred softly as it way they always did when I thought about my dead, lost sorted through billions of bytes of data, looking for info family. A small circle with eight thin lines radiating out of on one Violet Fox.
it. The symbol for patience. I rubbed first one scar with After he’d wolfed down his first sandwich, Finn my fingers, then the other, trying to ease the burning senreached for another. He jerked his head at the far side of sation. Didn’t help. Never did.
the coffee table, where he’d slid the folder Fletcher Lane
“Fletcher loved ferreting out people’s secrets. Compilhad left me—the one that contained the information on ing information, dossiers on them. It made him a good my murdered family and Bria, my baby sister, who was assassin and an even better handler,” I said. “I just never still alive. Finn had moved the folder out of the way so he thought he’d do it to me.”
could set his laptop on the ancient table.
“You’re angry at him.”
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“Hell, yeah, I’m angry,” I snapped
. My toes pushed off me. Just heard her laughing while she tortured me. For all the floor, and the recliner rocked back. “Fletcher spends I know, the bitch could be dead by now.”
years putting that folder together and then leaves it with
“She was strong enough to kill your mother and sister, Jo-Jo Deveraux instead of giving it to me. Why? What’s two powerful Ice elementals in their own right, and melt the point?”
that silverstone spider rune into your palms. I doubt she’s I was angry, of course, but more than that, I felt bedead. People like that don’t go quietly,” Finn said. “Betrayed. Like Fletcher Lane had regarded me as nothing sides, it was only seventeen years ago. Most elementals more than a mark to gather intel on. Like I wasn’t the live to be well over a hundred.”
daughter he’d claimed me to be. Like he hadn’t ever really A cold smile curved my lips. “Can’t blame a gal for loved me the way that I’d loved him. or at least trusted dreaming, can you?”
me enough to tell me what he was doing.
I stared at the folder, and my smile flipped into a And I was angry at myself too, because I’d had no clue frown. “I just don’t understand why Fletcher did it. I was what the old man had been up to, that he’d been out there. I lived through it. Nothing in that file tells me anygathering information on me and my murdered family. thing I don’t already know.”
I’d never even dreamed that Fletcher would do such a
“Except that your sister’s alive,” Finn said in a soft thing—at least not to me. or maybe I just hadn’t wanted voice.
to consider the possibility. Either way, all that I had left Bria. Blond hair. Big, blue eyes. A child’s soft, sweet, now were questions and more questions.
innocent face. A delicate primrose rune hanging from the
“Maybe he was planning to give it to you,” Finn said. chain around her neck. She’d been eight the last time I’d
“Before he died.”
seen her, the night I found her blood in the hiding place Another image flashed before my eyes. Fletcher Lane, where I’d left her. The night I thought she’d died. lying in a pool of his own blood at the Pork Pit, the skin