Clare sat up straighter, pen poised. “Oh really, did she give blood often?”
“Yes, she did. She got paid good money for it, so it was like a little side hustle for her.”
“How come she got paid?”
“She has a rare blood type, AOx positive. Don’t know where that came from. Neither of us have it, do we Hank?” Jo looked at her husband, who shook his head. “Apparently it speeds uphealing of wounds and illnesses and the like. The blood banks don’t have much of it over the mountains in Selig, and the Tween Clinic pays handsomely for it because there’s only one small cluster of folks in Tween who have it, apparently.” She stopped suddenly. “You… you haven’t found any of her blood, have you? I mean, nothing to indicate she was hurt?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Clare reassured, writing the wordsEdward and Natalie AOx positive, her mind racing. Heck, both missing humans shared the same rare blood group, both had been paid by Tween Clinic to supply it regularly. What were the odds of this being a coincidence?
Very small, she reasoned.
She needed to share this with Oliver ASAP, and also come clean about the invitation she’d kept from him. Angry with him or not, she was going to have to put on her big girl pants and focus on solving the case.
CHAPTER 14
There were three of them up on Grayson’s roof tonight.
Oliver lounged against the parapet, Grayson crouched on his usual seat—a large slab of stone pillar—and Saul was seated on another half a pillar that was a kind of stool of sorts.
And they were all drinking aged single malt whiskey, Oliver’s second bottle. Not that he cared. This case would probably see them go through a whole crate together.
It was a beautiful, clear evening, the setting sun casting long shadows over the city. Even East Motham was free of its usual smog, and you could see right out across to the valley. The glow of fall hung in the air, the trees a mixture of gold and russet, just before their leaves drifted to the ground.
And yes, there was a hint of melancholy in the air as if winter waited in the shadows.
Oliver was good at detecting melancholy.
Gods forbid, had he become a grumpy old man whose glass was always half empty. No, he’d been a miserable bastard for years, he decided. Nothing had changed there. He took another mouthful of whiskey and tried to savor it this time.
His eyes strayed past the city walls to the lush verdant countryside that belonged to valley humans. Clare was out thereright now, in Tween. He tried not to feel peeved that she hadn’t called him all day.
Damn it, he was in charge of the case, she should keep him informed.
Should he call her, he wondered?
“You’re quiet,” Grayson said.
“Pondering the case.” That was true at least. He left out any mention of Clare. No one would ever know what happened the night of the PD dinner. He would never mention a word of it, and he trusted she wouldn’t either.
As if reading Oliver’s thoughts, Saul said, “Heard from Clare?”
He shrugged. “Not as yet.”
“Me neither,” Saul said. “Which I can only guess means she hasn’t found out a lot. Like I said, Tween will close ranks.”
Oliver swirled the amber liquid in his glass. Why hadn’t Clare reported back? He’d given her his damn cell number. He couldn’t help the nagging sense that she was leaving him hanging on purpose.
It felt like a they were in a power struggle, invisible to everyone except him and her.
“You guys staying for dinner?” Grayson asked. “It’s my turn to cook tonight. I’m barbecuing burgers up here, seeing as it’s a nice night.”
Saul shook his head. “I’m taking Harriet and the kids out for pizza.”
Grayson cocked his head at Oliver.
“Kind offer, but I’m going back to the station for a bit.”
“Still a workaholic.”
