Free Play Dead by John Levitt Page B

really looking for her. Grabbing her, as you put it, isn’t going to do a thing for me.”
    We walked the last little bit back to the van, Lou keeping an eye out for Cassandra, but she was making herself scarce. Just as well—right now I didn’t want any trouble. The important thing was to get over to the café before Jackie did.
    Only one of the outside tables was open when we got there, but that was fine. I parked the van a block away where I could see but not be too close. I didn’t want to take any chance of spooking her. I grabbed Lou by his harness to get his attention. Once he got a good look at Jackie, he’d be able to use his talent to track her down like a bloodhound. Locating her again and finding out where she lived would be simple for him.
    “Lou. Go with Sherwood. She’s meeting someone, and pay attention to who it is. And you’re a dog, remember? No tricks; you’ve got to be a dog or she’ll know something’s wrong. Got it?”
    He yawned in my face, his way of saying, Of course I’ve got it. He can’t completely understand sentences, though he’s pretty good with words, but I’ve managed to get some complicated ideas across to him in the past. This time it was pretty straightforward.
    I wasn’t worried about Jackie tumbling to what he really was, even though she’d obviously know all about Ifrits. But magically speaking they’re amazingly neutral, and most spells slide right off them. Even a practitioner sometimes can’t tell an Ifrit for sure, especially if the Ifrit wants to stay unrecognized.
    Sherwood’s persona was more of a worry, but she was good at shielding. If Jackie suspected her and really probed, she’d be able to tell Sherwood was a practitioner, but why would she? There was no reason to do that. It takes some energy, and it’s not practical to examine everyone you meet on the off chance they might be the odd practitioner, even if you’re hiding out and super paranoid.
    Sherwood walked down to the café, Lou dutifully trotting beside her like a faithful dog, and went inside. She reappeared a minute later with a cup of coffee and sat down at the open outdoor table. Lou hopped up onto the chair beside her and scanned the area carefully, looking for any leftover scraps of sandwich that might have fallen on the ground around the tables.
    Twenty minutes later Jackie showed up, wearing a bright red sweatshirt. I recognized her instantly from her picture, though she was shorter than I had expected, no more than five-two or so. She paused in front of Sherwood before sitting down across from her. She reached over a hand for Lou to sniff. He did so, playing his part, and then sat up in his all-purpose begging position, the one guaranteed to melt the heart of dog lovers and even coax a smile out of dog cynics. She was clearly the former, and she made a big fuss over him, ruffling his ears and thumping him gently on his side.
    I was too far away to hear what they were saying but it seemed to be going well. Sherwood laughed a couple of times, and so did Jackie. After a while Jackie looked at her wrist and stood up. Sherwood stood up as well, they hugged briefly, and Jackie walked away with a little good-bye wave. Sherwood stayed on her feet, looking after her. I could see she was now even less comfortable with her Mata Hari role.
    I waited a couple of minutes before joining her, just in case Jackie made an unexpected return. When I finally walked over and sat down at the table, Sherwood gave me a sour look.
    “Okay, I did my part. Now what?”
    “What did you think of her?” I asked.
    Ever since Sherwood had “returned” to us after a year’s absence, her natural empathetic abilities have increased considerably. She could get a pretty good reading on people almost instantly. Practitioners were harder to read for her, and some people were naturally closed off to that particular ability, so she wasn’t always right. But her take on people was not to be dismissed lightly.
    “I like