His gaze slipped to the woman on the table, and in the blink of an eye, he became the guardian rather than the uncle. It was a chilling change.
"What?" I said warily, knowing there had to be something more behind his reaction than merely this particular death.
"I've seen this before."
I briefly closed my eyes. Of course he had. Why I'd thought this was a one-off murder I had no idea. "How many have there been?"
"Three in three days." His expression was as intense and cold as his voice. "He normally contacts the Directorate an hour after the death."
I raised my eyebrows. "Why would he do that?"
"To taunt us." His gaze centered on me. "How did you get involved?"
I told him about the gray fields and what I'd witnessed there.
"Unfortunately, it doesn't give us much to go on." He paused, then added more severely, "You're not intending to chase this one down yourself, are you?"
It was a warning more than a question, and I gave him a lopsided smile. "No. I'm not a guardian and have no desire to be."
He grunted. "That's the first sensible thing I've heard you say in weeks."
"I can do sensible."
"Really?" Rhoan's tone was disbelieving. "This is the first evidence of it that I've seen, and I've known you a very long time."
I punched him lightly—though it was like hitting a brick wall—and he grinned. "Go home and get some rest, Ris. You look beat."
I raised my eyebrows. "You don't need a statement?"