Free Retribution by Jeanne C. Stein Page B

I’d bet is more complicated than rejuvenating aging skin. Belinda Burke is not a humanitarian.
    Instead, I take the literature and, thanking her for her time, leave. I’ll come back tonight, when I can be alone with Burke’s files and see for myself what’s going on.
    In the car, I call Williams. I tell him who Burke is pretending to be, and he promises to pass the information to Ortiz. Legally, we can’t prove she’s done anything illegal. Yet. So there can be no official police involvement. But at least Ortiz may be able to use his connections to track her down.
    Then I call Frey. This time he answers. He sounds spent. Culebra’s condition worsened once, about an hour ago, but he adjusted his counterspell and Culebra is resting again.
    I fill him in on what I learned. Culebra’s relapse would coincide with my confrontation with Burke in the restaurant. She knows now that we’re working against her.
    What I don’t tell Frey is that she knows it’s Frey who is keeping Culebra alive. May as well not add to his concern.
    “Is there anything I can do for you?” I ask Frey.
    “Yeah,” he says. “Find Burke. Kill the bitch.”

CHAPTER 15

    I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MYSELF. I GO back to my vantage point above the warehouse. It’s midafternoon. There are still cars and trucks coming and going from the parking lot. Inactivity chafes. Williams hasn’t called, which means he has nothing for me from Ortiz. My first plan—to break into the warehouse—seems the most logical.
    I settle down to watch and wait, something I should be used to in my line of work. Stakeouts are part of the bounty-hunting business. Except I usually have David to help pass the time.
    I’m alone here and this is very personal.
    I spend some time leafing through the Eternal Youth brochure. Two things jump out: the dramatic results the cream seems to have wrought and the price for those results. Burke is getting two hundred fifty dollars for a twelve-ounce jar . . . a month’s supply.
    Yikes.
    I throw the brochure aside and start to pick apart what Burke said to me in the restaurant. She mentioned wishing she’d had more time.
    More time to what?
    And what “curves” did life throw her? Culebra’s appearance? He must have recognized her. How? I certainly didn’t. Was the entire story he told me about going out of town a lie? Was he here all the time?
    Nothing makes sense.
    The only thing that does is the threat against Culebra and Frey. No riddles there.
    It’s a fucking long wait.
    It isn’t until midnight that the place is finally quiet. By now, my skin is twitching with impatience. I watch as the last car pulls out of the lot. If there’s a night watchman, he didn’t drive a car to work. I sprint down the steep bank and head for the back of the warehouse.
    I had plenty of time to decide how I’d break in. The building is about three stories high. The only windows are right below the roofline. They are the old-fashioned, pull-down windows, so there are no ledges. I circle the building twice before I find one that looks like it isn’t completely shut tight. I’d rather not damage anything, which is why I’m not smashing the door and going in through the front.
    I use my shimmying skills for the second time today. It’s really rather fun. Like having invisible suckers on the palms of your hands. It’s all upper body, my feet seek purchase like a rock climber’s, but it’s more pull than push. Idly, I wonder what I look like. Hope it’s not a giant spider.
    I hang down from the roof and work at the window. It groans and gives way and I slide inside. These vamp powers are becoming second nature and once I accepted what I am, they seemed to grow stronger. Not entirely unpleasant.
    There’s a catwalk that runs along under the windows. I crouch here, waiting for any indication that I’ve tripped a security circuit. I don’t hear the whir of cameras or see the glowing beam of a motion detector. There are no lights on, but I