After I got dressed, we spent the next few hours alternately packing up some essentials and crying over ice cream and coffee liberally spiked with Bailey’s and some of the aged whiskey I’d tucked in the back of the fridge, saved for a special occasion. Sara asked some tough questions I didn’t know how to answer. When I explained that I’d sent Arnold on a mission to find a cure, she nodded and said nothing, though I could tell she was hurt that I’d told her boyfriend before her.
We decided to wait a few hours for the alcohol buzz to pass out of our systems before leaving for her place, passing the time in planning and arguing. I gave her the no-holds-barred account of what had occurred over the weekend. We ranted and railed about Chaz’s infidelity together before easing off into a subject that was, in its way, even tougher for me to face than my plans for dealing with the Sunstrikers.
Sara thought I should come clean to my parents about everything that had happened, including why I’d hidden from them that Chaz was Were. I thought that was crazy talk. My parents were no doubt both furious with and worried about me. I was not in the frame of mind to deal with my mom’s hysterics, and likely wouldn’t be for quite a while.
Finally, the two of us came to an uneasy peace; we’d figure it out later. We went back to packing.
A pounding on the door jerked me out of my funk. Sara shot me a look from across the room, hands paused over the books she’d been skimming on my shelf.
I got up from the table where I’d been sorting through some papers and peered through the peephole in the door. There were two men I didn’t recognize outside. When I pulled the door open, leaving the chain on, one of them held up a badge for inspection.
“Ms. Waynest? I’m Detective Terry Smith, and this is Detective Yarmouth.”
Police. The perfect end to a perfect day. I unlocked the chain and opened the door all the way, gesturing them inside. “Let me guess. You guys saw the morning paper.”
The officer smiled at me, his eyes a flinty gray that reminded me too much of Max Carlyle. I looked away and edged over to the kitchen table, settling into a seat. The officers remained standing, both of them eyeing their surroundings. Smith shared a look with the other detective once he spotted Sara across the room.
“Ah, Ms. Halloway is here, too? That’s good. Saves us a trip.” Detective Smith tucked his badge away and pulled out a pad and a pen, glancing between us. “We can keep this short and sweet, if you like. Is there anything you’d like to tell us about the evidence Mr. Pradiz presented in the paper today?”
“I think it speaks for itself,” I stated sourly, rubbing self-consciously at the cuts on my arm. “I’d like to press charges, too.”
“We’ll get to that. Can you identify the Other-citizen responsible?”
“His name is Dillon. Charles Hallbrook can tell you where to find him.”
“Thank you. We’ll follow up on that. In the meantime, we wanted to let you know that we’ll be examining the documentation and photographs that Mr. Pradiz collected and plan to proceed accordingly. We’d appreciate it if you would keep this out of the press as much as possible as the investigation is still pending. We don’t want to bias every potential juror in the county.”
“It’s a little late for that.”
“You can prevent any more details from being leaked.”
I nodded, fiddling nervously with a napkin. Though they hadn’t questioned me about it, I had no doubt they’d find out about the hissy fit I’d had, the property I’d technically stolen and destroyed, along with all the other stupid crap that had happened this weekend.
“Ms. Waynest, Ms. Halloway, we believe there may be some danger to your persons and wanted to suggest you find a safe place to stay until the worst of this blows over. We’ve had problems in the past with disappearing witnesses; we don’t want that to happen to you.”
“Great,” I said hollowly. Lovely. Arnold’s earlier words were now confirmed by an irrefutable source. Just another reason to feel inadequate as an investigator and wronged by my decidedly ex-lover. I didn’t have time for self-pity, and I forced myself to pay attention to the rest of the conversation.
“She’ll stay with me,” Sara said, her tone brooking