It's not my fault. I know it's sexist and macho, and it's retrograde social evolution, but I hate it when bad things happen to women. Don't get me wrong; I hate bad things to happen to anyone—but when it's a woman that's in danger, I hate it with a reflexive, bone-deep, primal mindlessness that borders on insanity. Women are beautiful creatures, and dammit, I enjoy making sure that they're safe and treating them with old-fashioned manners and courtesy. It just seems right. I'd suffered for thinking that way more than once, but it still didn't change the way I felt.

Shiela was a girl, and she was scared. Therefore, if I wanted to have any peace of mind, I was going to have to go talk to her.

I checked the clock. Eleven. She was still at the store.

I dialed one more number, and got an answering machine with no message, only a tone. "This is Dresden," I told the machine. "And we need to talk."

Butters and Billy reappeared. I hung up the phone and asked them, "Well?"

"Numbers," said Billy.

"More specific?" I asked.

Butters shook his head. "It's hard to be any more specific than that. There was only one file on the jump drive, and it was empty. The only information on it was the file name, and it was just a number." He offered me a piece of white paper with a string of numerals printed on it in his spidery scrawl. I counted. There were sixteen of them. "That's it."

I took the paper and frowned at the numbers. "That is spectacularly useless."

"Yeah," Butters said quietly.

I rubbed at the bridge of my nose. "Okay. Let me think." I tried to prioritize. Grevane was out there looking for Butters. Maybe Marcone was looking for him too. Maybe the dead professor's two assistants to boot. "Butters, we have to get you behind my wards again."

He blinked at me. "But why? I mean, they wanted me so that they could get to the information. I'm useless to them now."

"You and I know that. They don't."

"Oh."

"Billy," I said, "could you please take Butters over to my place?"

"No problem," he said. "What about you? Won't you need wheels?"

"The Beetle is ready. I'll take a cab."

"I can drop you off," Billy offered.

"No. It's the opposite way from my apartment, and Butters needs to get there yesterday. Go around the block once or twice before you pull in. Make sure no one is watching the door."

Billy smiled. "I know the drill."

"Don't try to open the door yourself, Butters. Knock and wait for Thomas to do it."

"Right." Butters fretted at his lip a little. "What are you going to be doing?"

"Detective stuff. I have places to go and people to see."

And with a little luck, none of them would kill me.

Chapter Sixteen