"It's not all right until you find out what's going on.
I don't care if the president himself is in front of you." But then Holbrook took a good look at us, all standing with our hands plainly visible and in the relaxed fashion of people who had not almost killed each other five minutes before.
We, all of us, were pretty good at lying with our bodies.
"Now, go call it in and tell them situation under control." Green turned without argument, leaving Tony and Holbrook to approach us alone.
"Mercy?" Unlike the other officers, Tony wasn't in uniform.
He was wearing a dark jacket over black jeans, and he wore diamond studs in his pierced ears and looked more like a drug dealer than a cop.
"What happened?" "He came into the office and saw my friend here." I rested my hand on Sam's head.
I couldn't call him by name.
Tony knew Dr.
Samuel Cornick, knew he was my roommate--and wouldn't have any trouble connecting him with a wolf named Sam.
And calling him Snowball at this juncture was only going to draw attention to the fact that I was hiding his identity.
"And assumed that any werewolf was a danger." "That's a werewolf?" asked the older cop, who suddenly looked a lot more wary.
His hand crept to his holster.
"Yes," I agreed steadily.
"And as you can see--despite Heart's precipitous actions"--I didn't tell them what his precipitous actions had been, though Tony's mouth tightened, so I was pretty sure he knew about the gun--"my friend here kept his head.
If he hadn't, there would be bodies." I looked at Heart.
"Some people might learn from his example of self- control and good judgement." "He's dangerous," said Kelly.
"I wouldn't have sh--" He suddenly decided to leave the gun out of it, too, and switched tactics without bothering to finish his sentence.
"I have a warrant authorizing the apprehension of the werewolf." "No, you don't," I told him confidently.
No way did he have a warrant for Sam.
"What?" said Tony.
"A werewolf?" said the older cop.
"I don't remember hearing anything about a warrant on a werewolf." He whistled and waved, catching the attention of the young cop who was walking briskly back toward us.
"Green," he said, "you hear anything about a warrant out for one of our local werewolves?" The young man's eyes widened.
He looked at me, looked at Sam, and came to the right conclusion.
Sam wagged his tail, and the police officer straightened up, his face going impersonal and professional.
I recognized the look--this one had been in the armed forces.
"No, sir," he said.
He wasn't afraid, but he was watching Sam closely.
"I would have remembered something like that." "I have proof," the bounty hunter said, nodding toward the van.