Alex hesitated, her lips pressed together so tightly that numbness set in. Michael’s words rang in her ears, reached deeper to resonate in her soul. He was right. She could walk away now and be done with it all. With the murders, the angels, the Fallen Ones, the Nephilim. Walk away and take the only chance at happiness she might ever have. But could she live with that choice?
She looked at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. Met the resignation in her own gaze. Closed her eyes against the weariness that seeped from her every pore.
“I’m coming,” she told Joly. “Just give me a minute.”
Not until the door swung shut again did it register that he’d behaved normally. As if he’d heard nothing, knew nothing, despite being planted directly outside Roberts’s door when she’d emerged after her meltdown. As if it had never happened. That must have been what Michael meant. Heaven had wiped the memory from them. She tipped her head back against the stall.
Damn, what she wouldn’t give to be in their shoes.
Chapter 34
“. . . on those files?”
In the silence that followed the question, Alex raised her head. She found all eyes in the room on her and looked over at her supervisor. Hell. That would teach her to tune out of a meeting.
“Sorry, were you talking to me?”
A flash of impatience crossed Roberts’s features. “I asked where you were on the files I asked you to review.”
You mean in my spare time? Alex bit back the retort. “I haven’t had a chance to finish them yet,” she said.
“I want them done by tomorrow.” Roberts nodded at her notepad. “What’s that?”
“A list. Additional terms I thought tech might want to watch for on the Internet.”
He held out his hand.
She hesitated, then tore the sheet of paper from the notepad and passed it to Joly beside her. It moved from hand to hand around the table, each holder taking a second to skim the contents—Nephilim, Satan, second coming, Lucifer, angels, demons, fallen angels. Some of the terms were probably on tech’s watch list already. Others, such as Nephilim, maybe not so much.
The paper reached their staff inspector. Apart from a few raised eyebrows among her colleagues—and Joly’s narrowed, sidelong speculation—no one seemed overly perturbed. Alex relaxed a little. Michael’s magic memory-wipe was holding.
Roberts scanned the list, and then, without so much as glancing her way, held it aloft.
“For those of you who didn’t have the opportunity to sneak a peek, Jarvis has just added to our list of Internet watch terms. The terms she is suggesting tie in with what’s going on out in Morinville and quite probably with yesterday’s stoning. They are also religious in nature. Now, we all know what happens the moment the press gets wind that the police are investigating any kind of religious angle. So let me be clear: your answer to any question put to you by a journalist is ‘no comment,’ because if anything on this list makes the news, I will have someone’s head. Now get to work. Jarvis, stay.”
Again?
Alex subsided into her chair and watched the others file out. Roberts closed the door behind them, keeping his hand on the knob.
“I’ll be brief. What happened in my office . . .”
She stiffened. He remembered?
“I’m sorry. I know I sprang Dr. Riley on you, but you would have objected if you’d known in advance.”
“That’s it?” she asked cautiously. Nothing about her information dump?
“I don’t know what else you want me to say. My hands are tied, Detective. I have my orders, and you have yours. You’re to see Riley.”
Alex looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. He didn’t remember.
“Like I said, Detective, this one’s out of my hands. Though if I ever catch a certain psychologist in a dark alley somewhere, I don’t guarantee his continued well-being.” He half smiled, not entirely in jest. “My question at the moment is, are you good to remain today, or do you need some time?”
“I’m good.”
“You sure? You’ve been under one hell of a lot of pressure.”
A significant portion of which waited for her at home.
“I’m sure.”
“All right, then. Let’s get back to work.”
“Jarvis! You have company.”
Alex looked up at the sound of her name and found Joly near the door, waving for her attention. Seth towered over him. Her stomach migrated to her toes. Hell. Now what? She flipped the file folder closed and stood, aware of the curious eyes following his progress across the office.
And the watchful ones.
Catching Aramael’s eye, she scowled a warning at him. Stay away. She still hadn’t forgiven him for siccing Michael on her instead of handling her meltdown on his own—and she had no intention of letting him anywhere near Seth. Returning her glare, Aramael stepped back into the coffee room from which he’d emerged. She met Seth halfway across the office.
“Is everything all right?” she asked. “Did I miss a call? Did you find something?”
A shadow crossed his eyes. “I didn’t realize that was a prerequisite for seeing you.”
She swallowed an automatic denial. He was right. When had she stopped feeling anticipation rather than dread at the sight of him? “It’s not. You’ve just never come to the office before, and I thought—” She touched his hand. “Never mind. I’m happy to see you.”
“I wanted to take you for lunch.”
“Lunch?”
“I believe that’s a customary activity for a couple.”
“It is. It’s just—” She snapped her teeth shut against the words that threatened. So ordinary. Too ordinary to fit with the context of what they were. What they knew. What they did. And certainly too ordinary to follow on the heels of their argument the night before. The shadows in his eyes deepened and guilt twinged in her heart.
Lunch was ordinary, but maybe that’s what they needed. What she needed before she had to act on Michael’s—
No. She wasn’t going to think about Michael now. Seth was making an effort here and she was damned if she wouldn’t meet him halfway. At least this once.
Roberts’s files would have to wait for an hour.
And so would Armageddon.
“I’d love to go for lunch with you,” she said. “I’ll get my coat.”
Outside on the sidewalk, she reached for Seth’s hand. “Let’s walk for a bit. I haven’t been out of the office all morning. The fresh air is nice.”
So was pretending, for a few minutes at least, that they were almost a normal couple.
Seth stared down at their linked fingers.
Almost.
“Also customary,” she said lightly. She tipped her head to the left. “This way. There’s a sandwich shop a couple of blocks over.”
Seth fell into step beside her, and their silence—perhaps for the first time ever—was comfortable. It didn’t last long.
“Must your bodyguard follow us?”
Alex glanced over her shoulder and saw Aramael a couple of dozen feet behind. Hell. She pulled her hand from Seth’s grasp. “Wait here.”
Doing an about-face, she walked back to Aramael. “Go away.”
“I can’t do that if I’m going to protect you.”
“I don’t care.”
“Alex—”
“No. It’s broad daylight. We’re on a busy street. No one is coming after me here.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’m willing to take the chance.” She dropped her voice. “Aramael, I need this. Please.”