he added in satisfaction as he tucked the folder under his arm.
Which was true, but it still hurt that Ivy hadn’t told me she was working the case. “Banshee?” I offered, trying to keep the annoyance from my voice. Mia was still in custody as her lawyers tried to balance the logic of raising a child with special needs against Mia’s multiple assaults and murders to accomplish it. But that didn’t mean one of Mia’s sisters wasn’t trying to encroach on her city.
Edden shook his head, but I was more interested in Ivy’s wince. “The I.S. says no,” he said, “and seeing as I’m getting my information from Ivy, I believe them.”
Eyebrows high, I faced Ivy.
“Oh,” Edden said, only now noticing Ivy’s discomfort, “I guess you didn’t tell Rachel you’re working the cases.”
“Only because I’ve dealt with banshees,” Ivy said, but it didn’t explain why she hadn’t told me.
“How come you didn’t tell me you were working this?” I finally said, and Edden rocked back a step. “The confidentiality barrier never stopped you before.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Ivy glanced at Edden, her apparent guilt far more obvious than her annoyance. “But since they released it to the media this morning, I can say it’s not a banshee. My moulage-reading skills are not court rated, but it’s obvious that the emotion left at every crime scene is exactly what you’d expect. If it was a banshee, there’d be no residual emotion left at all.”
Released to the media, I mused, miffed. I knew the law, but I knew how to keep my mouth shut, too. “Okay,” I said, trying to keep my voice light so the disappointment wouldn’t show. “Well, when you want to know what or who’s doing it, let Jenks and me know.” Ivy was right. It wasn’t my job to figure out what was behind the attacks. But if I had my way, it would have been.
“Rachel . . . ,” Ivy protested.
Edden took an awkward step back. “Thanks for the paperwork, ladies,” he said with forced cheerfulness.
“You know I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation,” Ivy said, but the pheromones she was unconsciously putting out to ease the situation had broken through the zombie stink, and the vampire scar on my neck was tingling. Worse, it irked me that she was right, and then I got mad that I was irked. But seeing as we were arguing, getting in her car wasn’t a good idea.
“Edden, can I hitch a ride with you back to the church?” I asked, giving Ivy a sour smile to try to tell her it was okay. “I left my car there.”
“Seriously?” Ivy complained, thinking I was mad at her, which I was, but I was only trying to keep from pushing her vampire buttons. “I was invited to the scenes as a matter of courtesy. I couldn’t talk about it, and I didn’t bring it up because the I.S. is handling it. And if you’re going to do this with every case I have, then we are going to have real problems.”
“I get that,” I said forcefully. “But you really think it’s a good idea I get in a car with you right now?”
Ivy’s eyes went to my neck, and I stiffened, suppressing the tendril of promise just her focused attention sent through me. She was hungry. Working in the I.S. tower all night around the long-undead did that to a girl. Ivy caught her breath, then smiled to show a slip of fang as she found a compliment in there somewhere.
“Ah, sure. I can drop you off,” Edden said, nervous now for an entirely different reason. “But can you come out to the FIB once you get your car? I came out here for more than paperwork.”
My head jerked up, and my breath caught. The I.S. had made it clear I wasn’t invited, but the FIB was another story. Edden wanted me in on this? “Really?” I said, voice high, and Edden chuckled as he shared a look with Ivy.
“Good God,” Ivy said, her smile widening. “It’s like you gave her a bag of candy.”
“It’s a paying job, right?” I said, words almost falling over themselves as the thought came and went about getting that Were crew back out and working. “Real money, yes? Not an IOU. Jenks and I have a church to rebuild.” Finally. A job that didn’t involve Trent. I mean, I appreciated the work, but it was beginning to feel like charity, and I had my pride.