“No.”
The denial was downright hostile, and the FIB guys crouched over the body looked up, eyes wide.
Tom turned and walked away. Pulse pounding, I took a step after him. “I don’t deal with demons!” I said loudly, not caring what the FIB thought.
The young man retrieved a long coat hanging over a tombstone, draping it over his arm. “And you got that demon to testify how? That mark on your wrist is from what?”
I took a breath, then let it out. What could I say?
Looking justified, he walked off, leaving me surrounded by FIB personnel trying not to meet my eyes. Damn it, I thought, my jaw clenched and my stomach churning. I was used to fear and mistrust from humans, but from my own kind? Mood sour, I hitched up my shoulder bag. Tom had a cell phone pressed to his ear. He’d get a ride. Why had I even bothered?
Jenks cleared his throat, and I started, having forgotten he had been sitting on my shoulder the entire time. “Don’t worry about it, Rache,” he said in a small voice. “He was just scared.”
“Thanks,” I said. While I appreciated the thought, somehow it didn’t make me feel much better. Tom hadn’t looked scared. He had looked hostile.
From across the way, Glenn finished giving instructions to a young officer. Clapping him on the shoulder, he headed in my direction, the gleam back in his eyes and his posture holding a repressed excitement. “Ready to take a look?” he said, his thick hands rubbing together.
I glanced at the dead Were, nose wrinkling. “What about the footies?” I said dryly, remembering the last time I was at one of his precious crime scenes.
He shook his head, eyes on the body. “They fouled the site,” he said, his disgust at the I.S.’s techniques clear. “Apart from throwing up on the victim, you can’t make it any worse.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said, jumping when his hand hit my shoulder companionably. I smiled at him so he knew it wasn’t unwelcome, just surprising, and he squinted.
“Don’t let it get to you,” the FIB detective said softly, his dark expressive eyes going to the witch’s distant silhouette among the tombstones. “We know you’re a good woman.”
“Thanks,” I said, exhaling to let the hurt go. What do I care what one witch thinks anyway? Even if he is cute?
From my ear Jenks snickered. “Awwww, you two are so sweet, I could fart fairy balls.”
Tossing my hair to make him fly away, I turned my attention downward. The men at the body had finished their preliminary look and moved off, loudly discussing how long the corpse had been here. It couldn’t have been more than since morning; the smell wasn’t bad, and there was no tissue damage from decay or flies yet. And yesterday had been hot.
My thoughts flashed back to a gutted deer carcass I’d found in the woods this spring, and, steadying myself, I crouched beside Glenn. I was glad that my nose wasn’t as sensitive as Jenks’s. The pixy looked positively green. After letting him hover uncertainly for a moment, I swung my hair out of the way in invitation, and he immediately landed on my shoulder. His warm hands gripped my ear, and he took dramatic breath after noisy breath, complaining about the reek of alcohol that my perfume used to carry the orange scent. Glenn glanced at us as if wondering what the hell we were on about. I turned my attention downward.
Mrs. Sarong’s personal aide made a very powerful wolf, and to think that the person in fur before me had committed suicide was ludicrous. He had the silky black hair most Weres did, his lips pulled back to show teeth whiter than a show dog’s, now stained with his own blood. That his bowels had released somewhere else was proof to me that the body had been dumped. A bad feeling rose as Denon’s words echoed in my memory. The I.S. was covering something up, and with me helping the FIB, it was coming out. Someone wasn’t going to be happy about that.
Maybe I should just walk away.
“He didn’t die here,” I said softly, settling in more firmly where I crouched.
“I agree.” Glenn shifted uncomfortably. “He was identified from an ear tattoo, and it’s only been about twelve hours that he’s not been accounted for. The first victim had been missing for twice that.”
Damn, I thought, feeling a chill. Someone was getting serious.
Glenn picked up a foreleg and rubbed a thumb against the hair. “This has been cleaned.”
Jenks flitted down, his tiny feet hovering just above the dull nails, almost as long as he was tall. “It smells like alcohol,” he said, hands on his hips as he slowly rose. “I’d bet my back acres that he had medical tape on him like that secretary.”