Page 102 of The Children of Eve

“Did she tell you who advised Riggins to run, and why he stayed in Maine even after he received the warning?”

“Emmett Lucas sent the message. He and Riggins had set up tripwires in Mexico for their own protection, an additional precaution they chose not to share with Vaughn or anyone else. When Urrea succeeded in tracking down the first of the locals, the alarm was triggered, giving Lucas and Riggins time to go to ground.”

“Except Lucas didn’t manage it as well as his pal.”

“He might have been unlucky. It happens. As for why Rigginsremained in Maine, Zetta said he was worried about her. But we also know that Vaughn was the one who secured Riggins the job at BrightBlown, at an inflated salary, which was in addition to his payment for what went on in Mexico. It would make sense for him to remain close to BrightBlown and his paymaster.”

“Except it doesn’t,” I said.

“Why?”

“It sounds as though Riggins was being paid to keep watch over someone up here in case things went bad, but that person can’t have been Devin Vaughn.”

“Zetta Nadeau?” Angel suggested.

“That would hold true only if she had one of the children,” I said, “and I went through her place with her consent. It’s not that big. Whatever she’s hiding, it isn’t a child.”

“But she’s hiding something,” said Angel, “even if it’s just knowledge.”

We’d have to talk to Zetta again. We could do it on the way back to Scarborough. After that, I was unsure how to proceed. Mostly, I wanted to lie down and sleep for two weeks, and when I woke up, my head wouldn’t ache and my face wouldn’t be in danger of turning milk sour. But Zetta might yet be persuaded to see reason and sway her boyfriend into doing the same, because reports of people being eviscerated had a way of focusing the mind, and Eugene Seeley was coming for Wyatt Riggins.

“Either Seeley’s no good, or he’s very good,” said Louis. “I’m leaning toward the latter.”

I sneezed, and the pain was like being hit in the nose again. Blood sprayed across what was left of my morning bun—and I’d been enjoying it.

“The hell with this,” I said. “We take one more run at Zetta and see what she has to say once she gets a look at my face. If I’m not happy with her, I’ll sit down with the Falmouth PD and the FBI resident, with Macyas the go-between, give them everything I have, and wash my hands of it all. Zetta can take her chances with the law.”

Louis patted my arm.

“Don’t feel sore about it,” he said. “The art world will get over the loss.”

CHAPTERLXXVI

When we arrived at Zetta Nadeau’s studio, the gate was locked, her truck was absent, and the house looked deserted. Locking up hadn’t saved her from an encounter with Louis before, but it didn’t seem worth the trouble of breaking in just to confirm no one was home. I called Zetta, but the number rang out without going to voicemail. She either couldn’t get to her phone or she’d made herself scarce.

On the other hand, two SUVs and a pair of panel vans were parked in front of Mark Triton’s cottage, while a trio of men who didn’t resemble art aficionados were watching us with the kind of interest that might have caused less hardy souls to quail. Triton’s front gate was closed. I hit the intercom set into the pillar. A woman’s voice answered, and I identified myself and asked if it might be possible to speak with Mr. Triton. The gate opened, and after a moment’s pause for reflection, I asked Louis to drive us up to the cottage.

“In case we have to bust our way out later?”

“No,” I replied. “Because my falling over while walking would make an abject first impression.”

We pulled up outside the front door and got out. Two of the art nonlovers were keeping a marginally less close eye on us than a third, who had shadowed us on foot from the front gate. He was short and stockyand, in common with his colleagues, didn’t carry himself like regular private security. He was too relaxed—even down to his clothing, which could have done with a wash and an iron—but the casualness didn’t quite tip into cockiness. He was relaxed because he knew what he was doing and had carried out more difficult tasks elsewhere. I couldn’t see a gun, but one would be concealed beneath his black Alpha Industries jacket, the weapon likely to be as worn but well maintained as the jacket itself.

“You think we should thank him for his service?” asked Angel quietly.

“While we’re at it, we can ask him if Wyatt Riggins snores,” I replied, “because I’ll bet he has personal knowledge.”

The front door opened and Mark Triton stepped outside, which saved having to invite us in. Behind him hovered a younger Native American woman. She appeared unhappy to see us, but that might just have been my face.

“Mr. Parker,” said Triton. “It seems you’ve been in the wars.”

I’d met Triton once before, when Zetta was having dinner with him at Boda on Congress. I wondered whether he’d have remembered me had I not first identified myself at the gate. I thought he might, because I was beginning to put together a picture that included him, Zetta, and Wyatt Riggins.

“Stepped on a rake,” I said. “It might have been funny had it been caught on camera. I was looking for Zetta Nadeau.”

“She’s gone away, I believe.” He peered past me to where Louis was standing. “An intruder made her concerned for her safety.”

I gestured at the ex-military goon who had taken up a position to our left, giving him an uninterrupted field of fire. We weren’t the threat, but no one had informed him.

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