green hell six months ago. A lot of old clients had been unwilling to take a chance on him after the disaster. He was well aware that if he screwed up, it was a good bet theyâd never see any more business from the Guild or any other high-profile corporation.
Trig snorted. âSounds like youâd better keep an eye on the matchmaker. If she didnât know the relic was worth a lot to the Guild before she talked to you, sheâll know it now.â
âDonât worry, Iâm going to put her under close surveillance tonight.â
âStakeout?â
âDinner date.â
Trigâs heavy black brows bounced up and down a few times. âYouâre dating someone who is involved in the case? You never do that. Thought it was one of your rules.â
âComes under the heading of undercover work. Any messages?â
âCooper Boone called while you were out. He wants you to call him back when you get a chance.â
âDamn. Iâve been trying to duck him. Heâs going to lean on me to attend his wedding in a couple of weeks.â
âStop fighting it, boss. Heâs an old friend. You have to go. Thereâs no way around it.â
Trig was right. He had been friends with Cooper Boone for over a decade. They had some stuff in common when it came to weird talents. Boone was now the head of the Aurora Springs Guild. In a couple of weeks he was going to marry Elly St. Clair, the daughter of a prominent Aurora Springs Guild family. The wedding was certain to be a huge formal Covenant Marriage affair with all the trimmings. Davis would have preferred to go to the dentist.
âIâm too old to be going to weddings,â he said. âYou know how it is if you show up without a date at my age. Everyone immediately starts trying to set you up with their sisterâs friendâs second cousin.â
âTell me about it. Pressure city. Hey, Iâm in the same boat, remember? Iâve got three invitations this week, so far. Face it, itâs the wedding season. What are ya gonna do?â
Davis nodded glumly. âAnything else?â
âYep, your brother called. Says to warn you that your mother is plotting to introduce you to another candidate.â
A sense of gloom pressed down on him. âMy lucky day.â
âThe ladyâs name is Nola Walters. According to your brother, her familyâs third-generation Guild from Crystal City. Your mom met her through a friend.â
Just what he did not need, Davis thought. Another attempt at matchmaking by his mother.
âWhereâs the mail?â he asked.
âThere wasnât much today. Couple of bills.â Trig handed him a crisp white envelope. âAnd this.â
Davis took the letter and glanced at the return address. He recognized it immediately. It was the third letter heâd had from the Glenfield Institute in the past three weeks.
âIâll be in my office.â He held out his hand to Max. âLetâs go, partner.â
Max scurried up his arm and resumed his position on Davisâs shoulder.
Davis went through the door of his office, dropped the briefcase beside the desk, and sat down. Max bounced down onto the desk and went straight to his favorite source of amusement, the green quartz vase that held a mound of paper clips. He settled down on the rim of the vase and began rummaging through the shiny heap.
Davis leaned back in the chair and stacked his heels on the corner of the desk. He tapped the envelope against the arm of the chair a couple of times, debating whether to rip it up without reading it or read it first and then rip it up. Decisions, decisions.
Eventually he reached for the letter opener, slashed the envelope, and removed the sheet of letterhead inside. The message was the same as the previous two letters.
Dear Mr. Oakes:
It has come to my attention that you have missed all of the follow-up appointments that were scheduled for you after