Chapter 21

Alone and in pain, Liam found himself left in a stranger’s house, unsupervised. He’d had an ulterior motive of course when he had first offered to fix the latch of Raine’s upstairs window, but after finding an uninvited guest lurking around, and upon hearing that Raine was being followed, his curiosity shifted into full protection mode.

Liam had taken the opportunity of Raine’s impulsive showdown with the neighbor, to undertake some quick research on her family. He called up an old friend who’d helped him out many times before during his reign in the White House, and as always trusty Mark had relayed to him some information on the Vivier’s family. They appeared very clean, most of what Mark came up with given his limited time, was clean Intel on her parents who had been wealthy heads of several international companies, and owners of various well established global charities. There didn’t seem anything remotely suspicious about the family wealth, which was considerable if owning houses in Africa, Europe and The States were an indicator. The money was old money, inherited from both sides. Clever investments added to their affluence.

He listened with increasing sympathy how Raine’s parents had died tragically and left her guardian of her younger sister at the legal age of eighteen. Raine, the youngest of the sister’s had almost died before finding a donor right here in the states. Her sister’s poor health had been a big motivator for their charitable investments to Mercy Mercury Hospital. There were a few newspapers and gossip magazines reporting on Raine’s fall from grace as one of the top socialites in her teens. But he didn’t have time, nor see the purpose in further investigating her bad-girl behavior, back in the day—just yet anyway. He needed to find out the- who, and why she was being followed right now.

None of the information on the surface explained why Raine was being trailed. The sister’s seemed to be all alone, no boyfriends, no friends really, and knowing what little he did about Raine, he could hardly envisage her inviting anything sinister into her life. He had to help her. Helping innocent people was in his family blood.

Liam stood from the couch, sprayed more milk into his itchy, burning eyes and took to the stairs toward the room that held the broken latch he’d promised to fix. As he entered the room, he noticed a ton of sketches lying on the table which held the hidden bugging device. Moving closer to inspect them, he appreciated the skill. Upon more investigation of the sketches, he found them a bit dark for his taste. He dabbed his eyes with cold milk as the burn retuned curious of the images on the sketches, there was something oddly familiar about them. They were mostly of hearts inside birdcages formed of human ribs. On several of them, his own heart skipped a beat at the intense familiarity it portrayed. Was it all spurred on by the recent killing of another Devil’s Breath victim, or was there some sort or connection here? He couldn’t see how, if the recent victim was only found a few hours ago and the media only took to the airwaves on this story today.

Shaking it off as nothing more than a coincidence, he’d dismissed the sketches as nothing more than his over obsessive paranoia—some traits of being a secret service agent never left him he surmised.

Liam bent down to retrieve the bugging device from underneath the table—only it had already been removed. He crouched down to take a closer look, but it was definitely not there. Had the guy he’d found snooping around earlier already been in the house? He sprang into action, and through itchy, watering eyes, and blurred vision, he fixed the latch best he could.

As his hand felt around the edges of the frame for signs of a forced entry, he noticed that sensor in the window frame had been disconnected with a tiny piece of foil. Someone had been here. He turned back to the sketches. What were these two girls hiding after all?

Making his way from the window to the doorway, something else caught his eye near the study table. The slight trace of muddy footprints. The prints were small enough to be a teenager’s or perhaps a petite female.

He tried to recall Raine’s build. Her feet were bigger than those of the prints, he was sure. Getting to his knees, he retrieved a small plastic vial from his utility belt that held nails. He emptied the nails into his pocket and using the screwdriver, he scraped some of the soil into it. Next he took his phone and started taking photos of the sketches, trying his best to put them back in the order he had found them. Finished, he backed out of the room, transfixed by the image of the heart in a bone-cage, and walked right into something.

“Too busy snooping around to notice me?” Raine asked, startling him.

Her hands were on her hips, and she was looking at his phone, which he quickly pocketed.

“What the hell are you doing, Liam?”

“I promised to fix the latch,” he replied, his gaze shifting to the window.

Her eyes darted to the window, “And instead, you decided to snoop around?” She looked to the table where the drawings had been obviously disturbed.

He opened his mouth to explain but where would he start? He closed his mouth, deciding to keep it to himself.

“Get out!” she said wearily.

He stood, looking her in the eye. “You’re quite something, you know that?”

“Ja, thanks.” She gave him a sarcastic hard leer.

“I can find my own way out,” he said, increasing his pace as he walked away. “First you attack me and then…” Raine heard him mumble as he made his way down the hall, his heavy gait thumping down the wooden steps. She didn’t wait to listen for his exit but immediately gathered up Willow’s sketches. Maybe he had just been admiring the sketches. They were rather captivating, or was there more to it?

“And he made a freaking mess of my white carpet!” she muttered, seeing the muddy prints on the floor.

Grabbing a towel from the nearby chair she started scrubbing at them. They were too small Liam was a big guy, she noted.

“What?” She stood in total confusion. Mrs. Brandon’s words came back to her.

“That was no police officer snooping around here. I was trying to find out what he wanted, which is why I was talking to him.”

Raine now felt bad for being so rude to the woman and was just about to track down her number from the community list when her phone rang. She answered it, fearing something had happed to Willow again.

“Hello.”

“Raine? It’s Mrs. Brandon.”

She sighed in relief. “Hi. I was just about to phone you. I’m so sorry I screamed at you, I’m…”

“It’s okay,” she said, softly. “Truth is, I haven’t been very … warm towards you. Your mother and I, well, we didn’t really end things off on a good note before she passed.”

Silence settled and Raine wondered what the hell that had to do with anything. “I just want to ask, are you in some kind of trouble Raine? Because if you are, then maybe I can help?”

“No, I’m just stressed. My sister isn’t coping well with the transplant, and this man snooping around isn’t helping matters. I’m a little freaked out to tell the truth.”

“I’m sorry. It must all be very difficult. What do you think he wants?”

Raine really wished she could tell someone what she had done, she needed someone other than the man involved to tell her it was okay; that if it came down to it, they would have done the same for their family—but she didn’t think Mrs. Brandon was the one. Neither did she want to put her in danger.

“I want to help, Raine. Please, I don’t want to have the same regrets I have with your mother. She was an amazing person, and I never gave her a chance. I don’t want to make that same mistake.”

Raine walked over to the window and looked out across the street towards Mrs. Brandon’s house.

“Thank you. That’s very kind. But we’re fine.” She hesitated, knowing that in a foreign country with no family or outside support, she might need an ally. “I promise I’ll ask for help should we need it.”