“Listen to me,” Jenks said with a false eagerness as he got in front of me. “You’re not going to believe who called this morning.”
I felt funny, standing in my sun-drenched kitchen with Jenks hovering close—too close—while I tried to remember where I had left my bag. My hand had crept up to my neck, and I forced it down. I was getting the oddest feeling—like I should have a string around my finger or something. Confused, I focused on Jenks. “Kisten isn’t answering his phone. Where is he?”
“Tink’s titties, Rache!” he exclaimed, his wings clattering. “Get off it! Let the man be a man. Besides, if you call or go see him, they’ll find him that much sooner.”
I slumped against the sink, stymied. There was that. My car was well known, and I wasn’t about to take the bus and risk getting stranded somewhere. Giving up on finding my bag, I headed into the bathroom as a mildly pressing need grew worse. “Are you sure he’s okay?” I asked, rubbing my arm through Jenks’s shirt. That was the last time I was going to sleep in Ivy’s chair. It was harder than it looked.
“Trust me.” Jenks followed me in with a soft, almost subliminal hum. “Going to see him won’t help him at all. Make everything worse. Let it go, Rache.”
It was excellent advice—though not any I wanted to take—and I sourly stared at Jenks, standing on the washer lid with his feet spread and his hands on his hips. I had to use the bathroom, but he looked immovable. “Do you mind?” I said, and he sat down, his wings stilling.
I couldn’t make him leave, and I wasn’t going to use the can with him sitting there, so I grabbed my toothbrush. My mouth tasted like dead weeds, and I put an extra glop of minty toothpaste on the brush. “You know where he is, don’t you?” I accused while I leaned over the sink to check out my perfect teeth, and when Jenks flushed, I continued, “He left without his clothes? He went to a girlfriend’s house, didn’t he? Someone who doesn’t have any ties to Piscary.”
Jenks said nothing, avoiding my gaze—and looking really, really guilty. I knew that Kisten had someone he was tapping for blood, and the fact that whoever it was might willingly defy Piscary if worse came to worst was a guilty relief. Besides, a vampire chick was probably tougher than me in a pitched fight. As long as she didn’t hand him over. If she does, I’m going to freaking kill her, I thought in a pang of angst, then prayed I’d never have to make that decision.
“How long until you can get yourself cleaned up?” Jenks said, and I made a telling face.
“Ah ’ot ’icker if ’ou weren’t in ’ere,” I said around the foam, ticked off that Jenks knew where Kisten was and I didn’t. If I really pressed him, Jenks would tell me. Probably even come with me to keep my ass above the grass when the bad guys followed me to Kisten’s hideout. Crap on toast, I don’t like feeling this helpless.
Jenks’s wings blurred. “Glenn called,” he said, as if it were a great honor.
Whoop-deee-freaking-do. “Mmmm?” I prompted around the toothbrush. My hair was down about my shoulders, and I frowned as I brushed my teeth. Jenks’s kids’ work usually had to be picked apart, but this braid was completely gone. I winced when my toothbrush hit my inner lip. Bending over the sink, I spit, eyes widening at the thread of pink in with the paste.
“What does Glenn want?” I asked as I leaned to the mirror and curled my lower lip down to see a red line. When did I do that? “More Tabasco sauce?”
“He’s got a warrant,” Jenks said, hovering so close that I had to back up until there were twin images of a nervous pixy between me and my reflection. “Or he will soon.”
Okay. Now I was interested. “For who?” I rinsed and spit, glad there was no more blood.
Jenks grinned, looking relieved. “For Trent.”
My head jerked up. “What!” I shouted. “He did it? Glenn got a warrant? Why didn’t you tell me!”
Silver dust slipped from Jenks, and he returned to the washer. “He has the verbal okay, and he’s on his way to the FIB’s headquarters in Detroit to get the original paperwork. That’s why I let you sleep. He doesn’t want you to do anything until he has the papers in his hand. Hours yet. You need any help in the kitchen?”
“Holy crap!” I exclaimed, pulse quickening. I looked at what I was wearing, then at the shower, fingers undoing a button. I had to get cleaned up. This was just too cool.
“It was you,” Jenks said, his features glowing with pride. “Thanks to your tip that Trent confessed to the murders, Glenn got approval to take another crack at Brett’s body. He lifted a print off Brett’s toenail before they moved him back to a person and destroyed it. It matched one they got from Trent from when you got him hauled in last year.”