Running Hot

FORTY-EIGHT

J&J sent out more people from the Society’s L.A. offices to deal with Newlin Guthrie. The minute they arrived on the scene, Luther briefed them and then bundled Grace into the car.

“Are you sure it’s necessary to drive back to L.A. tonight?” she asked, yawning.

“As long as that Siren is still on the loose, we are not hanging around Acacia Bay.”

It was a command decision. She was too exhausted to argue. She rested her head against the back of the seat and looked out over the night-darkened Pacific.

“I’m so glad to know that wasn’t real blood on her Lucia outfit,” she said. “It was just a costume from the wardrobe department.”

“Fallon Jones thinks your theory about her descent into insanity is right. She was unstable to begin with. Using her voice to kill people for little or no reason just made her crazier. And with craziness comes loss of control on both the normal and the paranormal plane.”

“How did you find me?” she asked.

“I’ll always be able to find you,” he said.

She smiled. “You are such a romantic. I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

She turned her head to look at him. “Come on, tell me how you knew that Guthrie had taken me to Guthrie Hall.”

“Process of elimination. She had a limited choice of venues. It’s a small town, after all. There was a big reception going on at Guthrie’s house so she couldn’t use it. Smuggling you into her hotel room would have been dicey. Where else was she going to go? You told me yourself she loves the spotlight. And Newlin Guthrie had access to the finest stage in town.”

“That was brilliant.”

“Yeah, I used to be a detective once.”

She rested her hand on his injured leg. “Once a detective, always a detective.”