Page 31 of Bound By Fire
Dammit. Can’t they leave me alone for one afternoon? This is important.
“He used to say you were a hard man to work for,” she says.
“I am.”
“Dusk liked it. He said you were fair.” She gives a small, broken laugh. “He loved working for you and for the unit.”
“I appreciate that more than you know. He was a good male. I was lucky to have him on my team.”
My phone vibrates a third time. I take it out. The screen shows several missed calls. All three are from Councilor Reed.
“Do you need to take that?”
“Not really.” From my tone, I’m sure she can hear that it might be important.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind. I know you’re a busy male.”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter.
I open the device. Councilor Reed does not call three times in a row without good reason. Why is she calling me instead of Magma? Unless something has happened to him. Nah! He was in the bullpen when I left.
Shit!
“It might be,” I admit. I stand. “I’m so sorry, but I have to take this. I’ll be two minutes.”
“Of course. Please.”
I step out into the front garden and pull the door closed behind me. The afternoon is bright and a little too warm for my jacket. I walk to the end of her path and press the call back.
“Councilor, apologies for missing your calls. This is Ridge.”
“We need to meet ASAP and it’s important. Today…right now, please.” She sounds stressed.
“With all due respect, Councilor, I’m with the family of one of my dead officers. I had planned on visiting the other families this afternoon. What about this evening? I could swing by your office or even your private residence?”
There is a small pause on her end.
“It can’t wait. This is an emergency.”
Crap!
“I see. I’m all ears.”
“Not on the phone. I need to see you in person, and as soon as you can break free. But not at the Council buildings or at your office.”
I stand very still.
“What is going on, Councilor Reed?”
“Do you know the Sister Stones, on the western escarpment?”
I frown. “Yes, I know them.”
The Sister Stones is an old place. Three weather-worn stones leaning against one another above a shallow spring, almost swallowed up by the forest, half an hour’s walk in from the western trailhead, if you’re going at a decent clip. Nobody goes there much anymore. The young used to be brought there for naming ceremonies a generation ago, before the practice diedout. There is no road. It isn’t the ideal meeting place, unless you want confidentiality.
What the hell is going on?
“Meet me there in an hour. Come alone. Come on foot from the western trailhead.”
