Hit List(22)

“Then why is Newman still in charge?” I asked.

His eyes narrowed when he looked at me; just because he agreed with me at this point didn’t mean he liked me any better. “Tilford is in charge of the other warrant, so he’s partnering Newman.”

“I know that Tilford requested that the other warrant go to Ted or me,” I said.

Raborn nodded. “He did, and it was duly noted.”

“Why give the other warrant to a rookie?” Edward asked again. “Especially, why give the senior warrant to a rookie so that he can be in charge of the operation?”

“It’s the older warrant, and new regulations say that the oldest warrant of execution on a joined case becomes senior officer.”

“It’s a bad rule,” I said.

Raborn just nodded. “But it’s still the rule.”

“It’s the same killers, they’re both the same warrant,” Edward said.

“Used to be, you’d be right, but you got too many marshals in your branch getting their toes stepped on, so they changed it.”

“They’re wanting to phase us old-timers out,” Edward said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“They think the new marshals will be easer to handle, but first they have to prove the newbies can do the job.”

“Stupid,” I said.

“Politics in the field always is,” he said.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if Newman would let Tilford lead, but he’s not. He’s taking that I’m-in-charge-so-I-have-to-be-in-charge attitude. He’s never been on a real hunt. At least Tilford has, not many, but I’ll take some experience over none,” I said.

Raborn tried to frown at me, but in the end he just shrugged. “Agreed.”

It was the first thing he’d ever simply agreed to with me. It made me hopeful. “What can we do to keep this from going pear-shaped?” I asked.

“Try your powers of persuasion on him, Blake. I hear you can convince most men to do just about anything you want ’em to do.” He looked at Edward then, and it wasn’t a friendly look. More a guy look, and I wondered if there was just a touch of sexual jealousy there. It wasn’t that Raborn wanted to sleep with me, but there is a type of man who feels if a woman is sleeping around he shouldn’t be left out. It’s almost not personal to the woman; it’s just a guy thing.

“You sound jealous, Raborn,” I said. I’ve found a direct assault is best on shit like this.

“So you admit it.”

“Accuse me of something and maybe I will admit it, but don’t make snide remarks and tiptoe around the question; just fucking ask, or don’t.”

He glared at me and Edward. “Fine, you want me to ask, fine! Did you fuck Forrester last night?”

“No,” I said.

“Bullshit,” he said.

“We shared a room so he could keep me alive and safe, because I trust him to do that more than any other person on the planet. But you and every other son of a bitch here is going to believe what they believe, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I learned a long time ago that I can’t prove a negative.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means I can’t prove that I didn’t sleep with someone. It’s easier to prove you did something than that you didn’t. You know that from court cases, every cop does, but cops love rumors, they fucking love ’em, so either way, believe what you want, but if you’re not going to believe the truth, don’t ask.” I finished the last sentence pretty much up in his face, as much as the height difference would allow. I was perilously close to touching him, and hadn’t realized it. I was angry, that fine burning anger that made the tips of my fingers tingle. It was disproportionate to the situation.

I took a step back, took a few deep even breaths, and said, “I need some air.”

“You’re outside,” he said.

“I need away from you, then,” I said, and I walked away. Why was I this angry? And down low in my body, lower than a gut, deeper than anything a surgeon would ever reach with a scalpel, I felt something stir. My beasts, the animals I carried inside me, were moving, responding to my rage. I couldn’t afford to lose control of myself like that. I didn’t actually shift form, but I still carried the beasts inside me, and they could still try to tear their way out of the prison of my body. I had almost gotten to the point where it didn’t happen, but now I felt the beginnings of it, and realized I’d skipped everything but coffee. Feeding the physical body helped control all the hungers, the beasts, the ardeur, and the anger, because I’d learned to feed off that, too. It was something Jean-Claude, my supposed master, couldn’t do. I needed to eat something, and soon.