Falin looked at where I touched his arm, and a smal Falin looked at where I touched his arm, and a smal smile crooked one edge of his lips. The expression didn’t change a single line of the exhaustion in his face, but it did make him look less haggard, not quite so worn down. He covered my hand with his gloved one and squeezed my fingers gently. Then he stepped back out of reach and straightened, becoming once again the no-nonsense FIB
agent in charge.
“Come on,” he said, turning toward the gate. “You came out here to walk this scene. Your presence has already done al the damage it can, so let’s check out this ritual and get out of here.”
Chapter 20
I signed in with the uniformed officer manning the gate. I sure as hel didn’t have clearance to cross the crime tape, but there were so many different agencies on the scene, I don’t think the harassed man knew who was supposed to have access to where. I had an FIB escort, and that was good enough for him. Preventing the scene from being contaminated was a lost cause anyway. With the skimmers, Bel ’s security and lawyers, Lusa and her cameraman, the paramedics and healers, and the magical scuffle that had occurred, the week-old murder scene was a mess. I didn’t envy John his job.
And speaking of... “Hey, John,” I said as I approached my favorite, but currently very exasperated, homicide detective.
“Alex?” He cocked his head to the side, which, considering that he was the lead detective and I’d just walked into a crime scene, was a better response than I’d expected. Then his gaze landed on Falin and his posture stiffened. “Detective Andrews, this is a crime scene.”
“Agent, actual y,” Falin said, flashing his FIB badge.
I could almost see wheels turning behind John’s eyes as he looked at the badge and refit Falin into a new box in his mind, reevaluating the events of a month ago and the Coleman case with the new knowledge that Falin was FIB.
Final y he nodded.
“Alex, I don’t particularly need you here, so unless . . . ?”
John tilted his head, the implied question going to Falin.
“I’d like her to walk the scene.”
“Fine.” John jerked his head in a curt nod. I don’t think he
“Fine.” John jerked his head in a curt nod. I don’t think he meant to project it, but when he focused on me I caught the disappointment in his gaze. Then he turned back to the CSI and ABMU officers he’d been talking to before we’d approached.
The dismissal stung almost as much as the look I’d seen in his eyes, and I stood there stunned for a moment. I mean, I’d been the one who cal ed him with the tip about the body, and we were both out here in the middle of the night searching for clues about who’d caused this nightmare. Of course, he was a cop, so looking for murderers was his job, not mine, and the FIB and the police didn’t have the most solid working relationship. My showing up on the scene with Falin probably made it look like I was throwing my support to the enemy. With that in mind, I tried not to take it personal y, but as I walked away my footsteps felt heavier than they had before, the exhaustion pressing on me worse.
I would have liked to head straight for the rift, but as far as anyone knew, my specialty was only the dead. I had appearances to maintain, so Falin led me to the bridge and the dilapidated tent city first. The booted left foot had been found amid a pile of shoes inside a fire barrel. No one had told me how many shoes had been col ected as evidence, but I’d heard two techs mention that al the empty shoes had been rights. The one left in the bunch contained a foot. So what is happening to the right feet? Or the rest of the bodies, for that matter.
I stretched my senses as we walked. Many of the tents and lean-tos sported charms and one or two were even warded, which surprised me, though I guess it shouldn’t have. I didn’t spend a lot of time considering Nekros’s homeless, but it could happen to anyone—norm, witch, or fae alike. I took a moment to examine each of the charms my senses brushed against, but most were charms to prevent leaking or to discourage spiders. None felt malicious or carried the magical signature from the feet or constructs.
constructs.
“Let’s move on,” I said once we’d walked the entire encampment.
As we headed back up the bank, I tripped on an empty bottle half buried in the loose stones and only Falin catching my elbow and steadying me kept me on my feet. I glared at the offending bottle, but the real problem was my own exhaustion. I wasn’t sure when I’d started trembling, but I’d been doing it for a while and I couldn’t stop. I’d been straddling the chasm between the living and the dead—as wel as a couple of other realities—for too long. I’m going to pay for this later.