“He didn’t wear gloves. Had on a jacket with a hood, long sleeves. But no gloves,” she said again.
So it was light enough that she could tell the color of his hands, but not catch a glimpse of any part of his face?
“Got it,” Gwen said. If she found anything weird about Miranda’s answer, she didn’t dwell on it. “What happened after he hurt you?”
“Like I said, he ran off.”
“Which direction?”
She lifted a careless shoulder. “Away from the bar. South, I think. I was bleeding, and wasn’t really paying attention.”
“You haven’t shifted yet,” Gwen said. “I understand that would resolve the injury.”
“It will. I wanted to, you know, preserve the evidence.”
Gwen nodded with approval, crossed one leg over the other. Just two women having a chat. “That was smart. Very smart. Now, did you recognize anything about the attacker?”
“Other than the fact that he was a vampire?” Her tone was dry, and had several of her allies chortling.
“How do you know that?” I asked, and all eyes in the room turned to me.
“Remember where you are,” Gabriel said, voice low and threatening. If I didn’t know Connor had clued him in, I’d have slunk right out of the room.
“Hey, watch the tone,” Theo said, moving a little closer to me. “It’s a reasonable question.”
“Can we please focus on Ms. Mitchell?” Gwen asked. “This isn’t helpful.”
Miranda’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “I can tell when some asshole’s a vampire. I can feel the magic.”
“Did you see his fangs?” I asked.
“I said he had his hood up. Did you not hear me?”
“Elisa,” Connor said, sharply, and I closed my mouth, made a point of glaring at his back.
“Did the vampire look familiar to you?” Gwen asked, drawing Miranda’s attention back to her.
“I don’t know. Maybe?” She looked at me speculatively. “Maybe there was something familiar about him.”
“What something?” Gwen asked.
“I don’t know. I said ‘maybe.’” The words were quick, impatient. And didn’t sound very convincing. What would have been familiar about a vampire whose face she couldn’t see?
Gwen sat up straight, brows lifted. “So, do you think he was a local vampire? Not one of the vamps from the AAM?”
“I don’t know. Could have been either.” A shoulder rose, fell. “I don’t pay attention to that political shit.”
Another lie, and I could see it in the shift of her eyes.
“Believe me, I get it. It’s always something with them.” Gwen’s eyes narrowed, then she slid her gaze to Connor. “Weren’t you attacked by a vampire yesterday right outside the building?”
“We don’t know it was a vampire,” Connor gritted out. “Not for sure.”
“He was nearly run over,” Miranda couldn’t wait to say. “They damaged his bike, too.”
Gwen turned off the recorder, slipped it into her pocket. Then rose, straightened her jacket. “Thank you, Ms. Mitchell, for your time. Rest assured, we take these allegations very seriously.”
“Will you tell me when you catch him?”
“We’ll absolutely advise you of the results of our investigation. I know you’ll feel better when it’s complete.” She turned, looked at me, gaze narrowed. “Ms. Sullivan, let’s step outside.”
Her tone was harsh, the words an obvious order—and a threat. Behind her, Miranda’s smile was deep, victory in her eyes.
“Why?” I asked, feigning suspicion.
“Because your . . . colleagues . . . have been implicated in the attack on Ms. Mitchell. We’ll need to discuss that.” She stared at me until I relented, cast Connor a look of betrayal, and stalked to the door, magic in my wake.
* * *
* * *
I took a moment to shake off the heavy shifter magic, and when I emerged into fresh air, found Gwen standing beside her vehicle. She gave instructions to uniformed officers and a crime scene technician, who began the process of inspecting the crime scene.
Then she turned to me.
“I’m going to do a lot of pointing and accusing,” she said mildly. “And you’re going to look sheepish.”
I looked at the ground, as if chagrined. “Why am I doing this?”
“We’re keeping up appearances while we’re still in their view, because she definitely doesn’t like you.” Gwen pointed at the car, as if demanding I get in it.
I shook my head, glared at her. “You’re pretty smart for a cop.”
“I guess you owed me that.”
“I guess I did. Why does how she feels about me matter to you?”
“Because it provides her a motive to lie.”
I knew it. “You didn’t buy it?”
“Not even with a coupon. Now I’m going to chastise you. Do that sheepish thing again.”