answered her question, which wasnât so much a question as an expectation of an answer, heâd pass the point of no return. Putting it into words would make the whole thing real.
Screw it. It canât get any more real for Nikki Waugh!
âIâve seen shadows acting like shadows donât. Donât act,â he added when Arraâs brows rose. Heâd never noticed before that her eyes and her hair were the exact same shade of gray. âAnd thatâs not all. Iâve heard a voice on my radio.â
âIsnât that what itâs for?â
âYeah and thatâd be funnier if someone wasnât dead.â
âYouâre right. I apologize.â She looked down at the front of her Darkest Night sweatshirt and brushed a bit of imaginary fluff off Raymond Darkâs profile.
Tony waited. He knew how to wait.
Eventually, she looked up again. âWhy have you come to me?â
âBecause youâve seen things, too.â
âI saw your friend last night. On location. He walks in shadow.â
âDifferent shadows.â
âTrue.â
âYou know whatâs happening.â
âI have my suspicions, yes.â
âYou know what killed Nikki.â
âIf you believe this, why not go to the police?â
One moment the baby was alive and the next moment it was dead.
âSome things, the cops canât deal with.â Before she could speak again, he held up one hand. âLook, this dialogue is heavier than even the guys upstairs would write; can we just cut to the chase and leave this crap to those who get paid to say it?â
Arra blinked, snorted, and grinned. âWhy not.â
âGood.â He wiped damp palms on the front of his thighs. âWhat the hell is going on around here?â
âDo you have time for a story?â
âTony!â He jerked as Adamâs voice jabbed into his left ear with all the finesse of an ice pick. âWhere the hell are you? The cops left fifteen minutes ago!â
Apparently not. âIâm sorry. I have to go.â
âWait. Give me your radio.â When he hesitated, she frowned. âI donât care what he wants you for. This is more important.â
He unholstered the unit and passed it over, carefully stepping back out of her personal space.
Arra looked distastefully at the ear jack and left it lying on her shoulder as she raised the microphone to her mouth. âPeter, itâs Arra. Iâve stolen your PA for a while.â
The directorâs voice sounded tinny but unimpressed. âWhat for?â
âDo you care?â
âNo. Fine. Whatever. Iâve only got a show to shoot here. Do you want a kidney, too?â
âNo, thank you. Tony will do.â
As she handed the radio back to him, he realized two things. He shouldnât have been able to hear Peterâs replyânot from a meter and a half awayâand she hadnât changed the frequency. She shouldnât have been able to reach Peter on that frequency.
âSo, it seems you have time for a story after all.â
It seemed he did.
Three
âI TâS A FAIRLY long story.â Arra nodded toward an old wooden chair nearly buried under a stack of paperâmostly technical diagrams and the mathematical notations necessary for pyrotechnics. âYouâd better sit down.â
The time it took him to clear the chair gave her a bit of a breathing space, a chance to collect her thoughts.
Tony Foster had seen the shadows. More importantly, he had seen her.
He wanted to know what he had seen.
Fair enough.
Curiosity had been the driving force behind the riseâand fallâof innumerable civilizations. It prodded creation and destruction equally. And once let off the leash, there was no catching it again until it was satiated. This left Arra only one option.
Well, actually, two options; although the odds of her taking the second were so infinitesimally