fan of Stella’s work and music, from the time she released her first single, ‘Show Me Every Day.’ The guitar licks were unique, the harmonics were utterly bewitching, and the first time I heard her voice I was captivated. Please allow me to express my deepest condolences on your loss.” He bowed slightly. FireWind was either a class-A actor or he really felt everything he was saying.
“He’s here to help,” I said.
“If you’r’un wanting to help”—Tondra lowered the footrest of her recliner—“then you can get Catriona outta jail. She did not do this.”
FireWind gave the evidence bags to me and tipped his head as if in agreement with the statement. “We are working on that. Special Agent Ingram”—he nodded to me—“has asked questions, but if you are willing, I’d like to ask a few more.”
Tondra gave him a frown worthy of an elder churchwoman but gestured to one of the square tables. Her daughters followed her there, their eyes on FireWind. They took seats at the table, leaving only one. It placed FireWind’s back to the door, deliberately I would assume, by Tondra’s fleeting expression.
Most law enforcement officers hated to sit with an open door at their back, but FireWind smiled and I felt electric tings on my skin. There was no question that FireWind had some kind of passive magic. It was like a slow breeze blowing over long grasses, rippling them gently. Almost a vampire mesmerism in its overwhelming calming. It practically demanded for the human women to trust him. I didn’t like him using it on them. Not that my opinion counted for anything. He placed a recording device on the table where no one could miss it and turned to me.
“Jones has sent you the address of the hotel where PsyLED is staying. The ninety-minute drive to Knoxville is too difficult for an every-day commute, and we can expect to pull long days for a bit. You may tell the unit to check in and get settled. We’ll hold an abbreviated debriefing when I arrive.”
It wasn’t the abrupt dismissal that a vampire might give, but it was thorough.
He turned his back and took the vulnerable seat.
I realized for the first time that, with FireWind being a big Stella Mae fan, he intended to run the entire scene. He intended to micromanage (a wonderful and horrible term I had picked up from the unit) the entire case. And that meant FireWind would be staying at the hotel with us, would be here every moment, peering over our shoulders.
Shaking my head, I carried the evidence bags downstairs. This was going to be a very unusual, high-profile case because of Stella Mae’s stardom and rabid fan base, but for Unit Eighteen it would be especially distinctive, with Ayatas FireWind running things. Rick LaFleur, who was stationed out of Knoxville HQ, actually ran most of the southeastern states, which was why he and Margot Racer, the unit’s sort-of-probie, were in Chattanooga on a crime scene. We’d be without them, at a time when Margot’s reputation as a star interviewer and her history in the FBI would have been helpful. I missed things being run the way I was used to. I might not get along with him all the time, but being healed by Soulwood had changed Rick LaFleur. He was, by far, the more comfortable boss to have around, which was saying a great deal, since I had kicked him in his testicles not long after we first met.
Downstairs, I discovered that the PsyCSI team had arrived from Richmond and had set up their equipment in the gathering room off the kitchen. They and the Nashville coven were dressing out in spelled unis as I passed by, T. Laine giving them instructions on limiting time in the studio since they wouldn’t have access to the null room until morning. The crime scene team would soon clear the house so they could work through the night, though what they might find was in question since we had trampled through the house and most everything in the basement was decomposing.
I passed FireWind’s message about the hotel to T. Laine, glad I wasn’t part of CSI, forced to work straight through tonight. I needed sleep—and I had to deal with the situation at home. There had been more calls with voice messages from my sisters. Both sisters. I had been too cowardly to listen to their complaints, but the list of calls showed that the last three had been within minutes of