Glenn pulled himself straighter, his hands still laced behind his back. “Rachel, could you step away from the car and come with me, please? And give me your purse.”
My mouth dropped open. “Am I under arrest?” I said loudly, clutching my bag closer. Crap, I had the focus in there.
“No one is arresting you—yet,” he said, his expression pained. “Please, Rachel. If you don’t cooperate, the I.S. will handle your questioning. I’m trying to jump ahead of them here.”
That was all the encouragement I needed. Feeling very alone for the lack of Jenks, I handed him my bag. It looked funny in his grip, and he gestured with a free hand for me to accompany him. Shaking inside, I fell into step beside him. We were moving steadily to the FIB van—the one with the metal mesh in the windows. “Talk to me, Glenn.”
“Mr. David Hue was seen talking to Mr. Markson last night,” he said unhappily. “Today the victim was found dead in Mr. Hue’s apartment Dumpster with your card in his wallet. Mr. Hue admits to having relations with the three Jane Wolves now in the morgue, and when officers came to question him, they found a heavily sedated Were woman showing signs of assault.”
My knees went watery. This looked really bad, and I was glad I’d told Glenn about the focus earlier. “Serena was human, Glenn. The focus turned her. David was helping her to learn to control it before the full moon so she would know what was coming and be able to deal with it. He doped her up in bane so he could get me to help with her pain. That’s all that it is!”
Glenn glared at me, his brown eyes full of warning. “Lower your voice.”
Eyes dropping, I frowned, listening to the distinctive radio chatter. “Sorry,” I said, then scuffed to a halt before we got much closer to that open van. “David did not kill Brett,” I said firmly. “The three women in the morgue were tragic accidents. Serena is trying to deal with what happened, and David is doing the best he can. You should be arresting Trent, not David.”
“Rachel, stop.”
“He told me he did it!” I exclaimed. “Why does no one believe me?”
Glenn leaned close, and I stiffened, using every ounce of will to not break his hold when he took my shoulder. “Shut. Up,” he said tightly, so close I could smell the sweat under his aftershave. “Everyone with a badge knows you hate Kalamack. I can’t ask for a warrant to arrest him because you said he told you he did it.”
I made a scoffing noise, then yelped when he yanked me closer.
“I believe you, Rachel,” Glenn said, almost whispering into my ear. “That man is slime. And I’m going to look into it.”
“Look into it,” I taunted, then winced when Glenn pinched my shoulder.
“I said I’m going to look into it, and if I find something, I’ll let you know.” He let go of me. “Just hang tight. You’re no help to me if you’re in jail.”
Dropping back a step, I watched the ambulance crew bring Serena out. They had used a witch spell to trigger her return to her human shape. From what I could see, she looked like the women in the morgue, a trim outline showing under the stretcher’s sheet, her long brown hair in disarray. David clearly had a preferred look to his women. Though she was unconscious, pain had drawn her face into lines.
“David didn’t hurt her,” I whispered as the ambulance crew loaded her in the back.
“Then he’ll be released when she regains consciousness and tells us that,” Glenn said.
I turned to Glenn, tears of frustration blurring my vision. “If we lived in a perfect world.”
My nose tickled with the scent of incense, and I spun. Denon was behind me, clearly amused that he had startled me. He looked better, almost his old self and dressed in his usual polo shirt and slacks that showed off his narrow waist and his muscular legs. Obviously some dead vamp had been at him, giving a little back to boost his morale. It was in his attitude. My pulse quickened at the reminder of the I.S. officers bundling David into cuffs, and I backed up into Glenn. “Denon,” I said stiffly, telling myself I wasn’t afraid of him but of what he could do to me under the flag of I.S. justice.
“Morgan,” the big man said, his deep, beautiful voice sounding like chocolate milk given sound. His gaze slid to Glenn behind me. “Detective Glenn.”
I shivered, his voice creeping up my spine with the subtlety of velvet. Damn, someone had been playing with him, all right. Glenn seemed to have noticed, too, for all he did was nod.
Denon smiled to show his flat teeth. “Morgan, it gives me great pleasure to take you in for questioning in conjunction with the murder of Brett Markson.”