Page 60 of The Tracker's Secret
Jake buttoned his shirt up and took the motorcycle keys out of his pocket. “So?”
“Let’s go.”
We walked out, and I climbed on behind him, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist. He started the engine, and we took off. Ten minutes later, we were at the police department. Jake decided to wait outside, while I walked in and told the receptionist at the counter that I needed to see Tom Freeman. A moment later, Tom came out of his office and greeted me with a warm hug.
“Hey, kiddo, how are you?”
“I’m good.” I smiled, then went straight to the point. It was rude as hell but I was too anxious to hold back. “Ulfen Erickson called me. He said he wants to hire me to track someone for him. He asked me to come.”
Tom’s brow furrowed. He glanced around, then inclined his head toward his office, asking me to follow. We went in, and he closed the door behind us.
“I wouldn’t suggest you take him up on his offer, whatever it entails,” Tom said. “The mage that attacked you and Stephen plea-bargained and now he’s out on bail. He swore under oath that Ulfen Erickson paid him to kill his son.”
“What a bastard! Who would do that to his own son?”
“Who do you think he wants you to track?” Tom Asked.
“I’ve no idea, but maybe I should talk to him. Maybe he’ll tell me something that will bury him deeper.” Now, I wanted to spit in his face. That mage almost killed me, too.
“He’s not allowed visitors right now. Sorry, kid, I don’t think it’s smart for you to get involved. Just stay out of it. Go back to tracking mates and staying safe.”
That sounded great, but, suddenly, I started wondering if it would be that easy.
“What will happen when they let him go?” I asked. “I’m sure he’ll make bail, too. If I refuse to help him, he might take offense and come after me. Maybe if I just talked to him and played nice, he’ll leave me alone.”
“If he comes after you, I’ll kill him.” The tone in Tom’s voice left me no doubt he would do it.
“I appreciate that, Tom, but you can’t be with me twenty-four seven. And Ulfen has plenty of people he can send after me.”
Tom winced. He knew I was right. Still, it went against his integrity as a cop to bend to a criminal’s demands. After a long moment of consideration, he said, “I guess it can’t hurt if you hear him out. Just don’t agree to anything, okay?”
I nodded.
“Wait right here,” he said and walked out of the office.
He came back ten minutes later and led me down a narrow hall. He opened the last door on the right, and we walked in. Ulfen was handcuffed, his wrists fastened securely to the table, which in turn was bolted to the floor. He also wore a thick electronic collar around his neck, a device designed to impede shifting. His dress shirt looked crumpled, and his red hair stood on end.
I stopped a safe distance away from him. Tom closed the door and stood a step behind me.
Ulfen inclined his head. “Thank you for coming, Ms. Sunder. I had my doubts you would.”
“Well, I’m here. What do you want?”
“I already told you. I need you to track someone for me.”
“Who?”
Ulfen smiled coldly, then said. “Blake Foster.”
I blinked and exchanged a confused glance with Tom. Blake Foster was dead. Ulfen and I, along with a bunch of other people at his charity function, had seen Blake’s body hanging from a rope with the word WAR carved in his chest. Why would he want me to track a dead man? Had they misplaced his body?
“You’re wasting my time,” I said. “I don’t track dead people. It’s not very pleasant.”
“Blake is not dead.”
“Curious,” Tom said, “because I recall his body lying in the morgue and the physical examiner’s report listing the cause of death as strangulation.”
“That was not Blake,” Ulfen said.
