He nodded and took her at her word. He ran. Since he went at lupus speed while they simply walked, he was on his way back before they reached the tables.
Potato salad. Coleslaw. An opened pack of buns. A spill of plastic forks. For some stupid reason the sight of all that made her eyes burn. She swallowed. Swallowed again. This shouldn’t have happened. Shouldn’t have happened at all, but especially not here, where Cullen was safe. Happy. He’d been so blasted happy, without his usual guards of cynicism and humor.
He couldn’t die. She hadn’t given him his baby present yet.
That thought nearly tipped her over, but Shannon arrived before she lost it. She got herself under control, took her bag, and dug out her notebook and a pen. She turned to face the gangly lupus.
Jittery, she decided. She didn’t have to smell him to know he was strung tight. “Mike, you okay? You look pretty tense.”
“Never mind making nice. Let’s get this over with.”
His hostility puzzled her. Sure, sometimes wits took out their anger on the cop questioning them, but this felt personal. “All right. First, I’d like to shake your hand.” No point in hiding what she intended. Everyone here knew she was a touch sensitive.
Mike’s palm was damp. No magic other than the familiar wash of lupus magic—cool, furry, with something that reminded her of the scent of pine needles, rendered tactilely.
She dropped his hand. “Thanks. Did you see who stabbed Cullen?”
His gaze darted to Rule, standing four-legged beside Lily. He nodded once.
“Tell me what you saw.”
He looked at the ground, his mouth tight. “I’ll tell my Rho.”
Rule didn’t move. He didn’t growl or snarl, yet all at once he was more. Not more of any one thing—just twice as present as before . He stared at Mike out of yellow eyes, hackles raised.
Mike’s head came up. He twitched as if fighting the need to abase himself, his gaze darting toward Rule, then dropping. “All right. All right, since you’ll have it this way, I’ll tell what I saw. I saw you, Rule. I saw you come up behind Cullen and slap him on the back. Then he fell, and I smelled his blood.”
SEVEN
LILY looked at Rule. It was automatic, unthinking. He’d been accused of an impossible and horrific act, of trying to kill his best friend. Of course she looked at him.
He dipped his head slowly in a nod.
It took a second for her brain to work past the confusion. He meant Yes, Mike’s telling the truth—but the truth as Mike knew it. Not the actual, factual truth, but what Mike believed.
Shit.
In the silence, Lily realized she’d been hearing the approaching whomp-whomp of a helicopter without it registering. She looked up and saw the copter’s running lights moving against the inky sky. It was close.
“Okay. Mike, you say you saw Rule. Did you smell him, too?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t notice his scent, but I wasn’t standing all that close.”
“Who was standing near you? Who did you see close to Cullen other than Rule?”
He named seven people, including Cynna and the woman who’d spoken earlier—Sandra, last name Metlock. She jotted them down, then turned the page. “Give me a picture of where they were. Here’s Cullen.” She drew a small circle. “Where were you? Cynna?” She led him through the placement of seven circles, then wrote his name at the top of the page. “One more question. Have you seen an Asian man here tonight?”
Mike blinked. “Sure. Your brother-in-law. Uh, sorry, but I don’t remember his name.”
“You’re sure he’s the only Asian man you’ve seen?”
“Pretty sure. He’s got a distinctive scent. No offense intended.”
“None taken.” Though she’d love to know what Paul smelled like to a lupus. She closed her pad. “Okay. That’s it for now.”
“Wait a minute. Aren’t you going to—”
“I’m going to ask a lot of people questions. Shannon, escort Mike back. I want him to stay near Isen.” That should reinforce the order not to talk. “Bring back . . . No, wait. I’m heading back there, too. Rule, I need you two-footed.”
His hackles lifted. He shook his head.
“Don’t pull that mantle crap on me.” But dammit, he’d guessed what she meant. Or part of it. She went to one knee in front of him, putting them eye to eye, and gripped his ruff. “I know better,” she said fiercely. “You can’t think I suspect you, even for a second. But you can’t help me question witnesses, either. Not when you’re implicated. It would taint the investigation and I’d be pulled, and then I wouldn’t be any help.”
He shook his head again.
Damned stubborn wolf. “You need to go with Cullen, anyway.” The sound of the copter was loud now. “Or not with him—the copter won’t have room for you or Cynna. But you can drive her to whatever hospital they’re taking him. She’s going to need you, Rule.”
He didn’t shake his head this time, but he didn’t Change, either.
“I’ll get Isen to question wits with me. He’s got most of the mantle, right? If you can scent a lie, so can he.”
Rule made a huffing noise. It might have been a lupine laugh, or sheer disbelief.
“He’ll do it,” she told him. “I’ll see to it. Now, get yourself two-footed so I can ask you a couple questions, and so you can drive at your best bat-out-of-hell speed to the hospital.”
“A Rho does not act as Lu Nuncio.” Isen’s face, usually so mobile, was stone. “I do not interrogate my people.”
The whomp-whomp of helicopter blades was distant once more. They’d loaded Cullen aboard—still breathing—and found room for Nettie. Cynna was heading with Rule to his car. Someone had loaned him a T-shirt to wear with his cutoffs.
“A Rho does what his people need him to do,” Lily said, and bent to slip off her shoes. She’d check out the area where the perp must have stood to strike Cullen from behind.
It was much darker now, with only a thin scattering of mage lights overhead. Most of the cheery little balls had come from Cynna and Cullen. Still, a few remained. Lupi, with the exception of Cullen, didn’t perform magic; they were magic. But their female children were sometimes Gifted, and a handful had learned the new spell that produced mage lights.
At Lily’s request, most of those bobbing lights were concentrated where she stood now, facing Rule’s father. She straightened with her shoes in one hand. “You won’t question them. I will. You’ll tell me if they’re lying.”
“You misunderstand. The clan is accustomed to their Rho acting as judge, not as a policeman. You might be asking the questions, but if I’m present, they’ll believe they are being judged.”
“I’d say that it’s up to you to handle that.”
“I am. I’ll send Shannon to retrieve my Lu Nuncio—who knows better than to leave at this time.”
“Fine. I won’t be needing Rule, however, nor will he be allowed to question anyone on his own, since I’m being forced to hand this case over to the local cops.”
“Almost,” he said thoughtfully, “I could believe you are threatening me.”
“I’m giving you facts. You want me to conduct the investigation. Rule can’t participate in questioning witnesses when he’s been implicated by one of the witnesses. If I let him do that, any information I get will be tainted, and I’ll be pulled off the investigation.”
“Your superior is Ruben Brooks. He has confidence in you, and he’s shorthanded. Very few could take over the investigation.”
“Which is why the case will land with the locals if I don’t claim it. At this point, there’s a vague suggestion that magic could be involved. There’s no compelling evidence of it.”