to the assistant director before you were appointed to your current position.” T. Laine leaned in to FireWind, holding his eyes with hers. “I didn’t go behind your back or over your head. Sir.”
An uncomfortable silence built in the room, and I was aware of Tandy’s and JoJo’s interest. They weren’t even tapping on keyboards. “And next time you want to reprimand me for something you think I’ve done, let’s talk in private first, so I don’t have to bust your balls in the middle of a unit meeting.”
FireWind blinked. T. Laine didn’t.
Occam drawled, “I’da brought popcorn if I’da known there was gonna be entertainment.”
“I just stuck a bag in the microwave,” JoJo said from HQ. “This is fun.”
FireWind sat back in his chair. T. Laine didn’t. “I think that is a fair way to proceed from this point,” he said.
“Uh-huh. And I accept your apology,” she said.
FireWind smiled, one of those rare, wide, truly happy smiles I had seen maybe twice in all the months we had worked from the same office. “I didn’t offer an apology,” he said, amusement heavy in his tone.
“Should have.”
FireWind chuckled. “Yes. I suppose I should. Please consider it simply late, and not a lack of social graces. I apologize for the incorrect assumption and for not discussing this in private first.”
T. Laine remained unmoving, leaning forward for several seconds, before she sat back in her chair. She was wearing an oversized gray shirt and sweatpants and bright pink socks. She still looked tired and pale. “JoJo,” T. Laine said, continuing the meeting. “Update us on the lab work I collected on that green stuff on the bodies, please.”
The realization hit me. T. Laine had taken charge of the meeting. It should have been FireWind in charge. He had baited her and she had baited him back. The undercurrents in the room were as tangled as any in the Nicholson home back at the church, and surely had more causation than the back-and-forth I had just seen. These two had been in an argument, or something worse, and everyone in the unit knew about it except me.
JoJo said, “The substance is a complex mixture of proteins, sugars, tissue breakdown products, and enzymes, none of which are normal for living humans or in decomping humans. I sent the values to everyone with the comparable healthy living values. I sent samples to the CDC lab for bacterial and fungal cultures and possible virus identification involved in the tissue breakdown. But for now, all we have are the chemical lab values.”
I opened the file on my laptop, glad to focus on something other than the undercurrents in the room. There were things like glucose, BUN, sodium—dozens of chemicals. None matched the normal values in live humans. But then the people had been dead so maybe that was to be expected.
JoJo talked a lot more about chemistry, not a lick of which I understood. When she finished with test results, she said, “As soon as you can transport any bodies safely, the paranormal forensic pathologist at UTMC is ready and waiting. She’s seen the pics with the green-tipped fingers and she wants a look-see inside the bodies, especially as the hospital has live patients to treat. So far the hospital is just treating their symptoms. The hospitalists want answers and a way to devise a more comprehensive treatment plan.”
“The decomp is so fast, I doubt they’ll get to see bodies from this scene,” T. Laine said. “Probably just more sludge. But we’ll know more tomorrow, after we get them out of the null trailer.”
JoJo said, “What do we know about Catriona and the FBI guy, Macauley Smythe?”
T. Laine lifted her head from her laptop and spoke to FireWind. “Sir.”
FireWind took a swig of his cola and crossed one ankle over the other knee. He said, “Catriona Doyle asked for an attorney and has refused to answer questions. Macauley Smythe plans to charge Doyle with three counts of first-degree murder by magical means, and multiple counts of attempted murder. He intimated to the sheriff that he may ask for a grand jury with the intent of charging the Nashville coven for multiple counts of attempted murder by magical means since she’s a member there.”
“That’s stupid. It’ll never hold up in court,” T. Laine said.
“I don’t think he cares,” FireWind said. “As several of you have pointed out, he intends to parlay this short-term renown into a secure job future when his twenty-five are up. The new national FBI director