Bastard. Asshole. Brutus.
These were just a few of the thoughts that ran through my mind. His face looked completely impassive while he slit my fucking throat. I was clenching my hands around the arms of my chair so hard I lost feeling in my fingertips. If O’Reilly had asked me a question at that moment, I wouldn’t have been able to answer if my life depended on it.
The betrayal tasted sour on my tongue.
“So you can’t account for her whereabouts between three-thirty and five,” O’Reilly said, just to hammer in the point.
“Not unequivocally, no.” Brian sounded like he might be discussing the weather, that’s how much emotion was in his voice. And he didn’t even look at me. “Now would you care to tell me what this is all about?”
O’Reilly ignored me and focused on Brian. “Sometime early this morning, there was an illegal exorcism.” He glanced at his notepad. “A Mr. Thomas Wilson. He’s a legal, registered demon host. Someone broke into his house last night, Tasered him, tied him up, then cast out his demon against his will.”
“And why do you think it was my client?”
His “client.” That made my stomach turn over.
“The exorcist used vanilla-scented candles for the ritual. Your client is known for using vanilla-scented candles.”
“Oh for God’s sake!” I burst out, indignation now taking over for the hurt. “Lots of exorcists use scented candles! And — ”
Brian reached over and grabbed my arm in a grip so tight it hurt and startled me out of my anger. He turned those impassive eyes to me. “Let me handle this, Morgan. That’s why you brought me along.”
“Yeah, you’ve been a big help so far,” I snarled.
His grip on my arm tightened even more. If he squeezed any harder, he’d leave bruises. In my state of mind, it should have made me go ballistic. Except it was such unusual behavior for him that I had to stop and think. He was still wearing his lawyer face, and there was no special boyfriend-to-girlfriend look in his eyes. But his fingers were crushing the hell out of me. I realized suddenly that he was gripping my arm from behind — so O’Reilly couldn’t see how hard he was squeezing.
I swallowed hard and shut up, hoping this meant he was still on my side and was trying to keep O’Reilly from seeing it. Brian let go of my arm with a self-satisfied little nod.
“Detective O’Reilly,” Brian said, “I’m sure if my client had performed an illegal exorcism, she wouldn’t have left her candles behind to be found.”
Oh yeah, that was a rousing endorsement.
“Maybe she was interrupted.”
“That’s hardly enough — ”
There was a knock on the door, and Finn stuck his head in. I didn’t like the smile on the detective’s face as he motioned to O’Reilly.
O’Reilly rose. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
I whirled on Brian the moment O’Reilly was out the door.
“Be quiet, Morgan!” he snapped in a low, urgent voice. He’d lost the impassive lawyer look, his face now intensely earnest. “If I’d lied about your whereabouts and they’d found out about it, things could get very, very bad for both of us. Please keep your temper under control and let me handle this. We can fight later.”
I was eager to get to the fighting right away, but O’Reilly stepped back in at that moment. He looked way too happy.
“Very sloppy, Miss Kingsley,” he said. He uncurled his fingers to show that he had something in his hand. They were little pieces of brightly colored paper like confetti.
Only it wasn’t confetti. Whenever you fire a Taser, it leaves a literal paper trail-anti-felon ID (AFID) tags, up to forty of them, with the cartridge’s serial number on them. I had a nagging hunch I knew whose Taser cartridge these had come from. I also had a nagging hunch that when they downloaded the data from my Taser’s data port, it would claim it had been fired between three-thirty and five.
I’d have said now I knew why the intruders had broken into my house — to switch out my Taser and frame me for murder — except you don’t need three masked men to steal a Taser, and you certainly don’t need two guns apiece. No, they might have switched Tasers on me, but that hadn’t been their primary mission. A backup plan, maybe?
I suppressed a shudder. The attack on Wilson ’s demon had occurred after the break-in at my house. Which suggested the bad guys had paid another visit to return my original Taser after they’d used it at the crime scene.
I was going to have to get a new alarm system. Mine apparently was a piece of shit.
“Miss Kingsley, you’re under arrest for the murder of Thomas Wilson’s demon. You have the right to remain silent.”
I didn’t hear the rest of the Miranda spiel. I was far too shocked. Brian didn’t say a word as they cuffed my hands behind my back. I didn’t like the way he was looking at me, like he thought I might actually be guilty. That realization was going to hurt somewhere down the road, but I wasn’t ready to deal with it yet.
“Brian!” I said as they tried to lead me out of the room. “You know I’m not that stupid.”
Both O’Reilly and Finn raised eyebrows at that. I guess they thought I should’ve been telling Brian I’d never do such a horrible thing. I wasn’t sure Brian would believe that. I was pretty sure he’d believe that I wouldn’t be dumb enough to leave my candles and Taser confetti behind.
I didn’t have time to test the theory, though, because the detectives hustled me out of there before I could say anything more.
CHAPTER 8
Later that afternoon, there was another lovely round of questioning. This time, it happened in an actual interrogation room, and Brian wasn’t serving as my lawyer. He’d referred a colleague of his — a very sharp, very lawyerly woman who’d hardly let me speak a word. The cops seemed especially interested in the fact that I had a bruise on my face. I’d have to remember to thank Val for that later.
Some remnant of misguided loyalty made me tell them I’d gotten the bruise during one of my sleepwalking adventures. They obviously didn’t believe me, but then they were stuck on the idea that I’d exorcized what’s-his-name’s demon and gotten the bruise during a struggle.
My attorney promised me she’d arrange bail, despite O’Reilly’s dark suggestions that I wouldn’t get it.
Either way, I was spending the night in this lovely facility. At least in my jail cell, I had a cot and a toilet. A big step up from the containment center in Topeka. However, I sure hoped being locked up for the night wasn’t going to become a habit.
There was definitely a part of me that was scared. If the DA could make the charges stick, there was a very real possibility I’d go to prison. Maybe even for the rest of my life. But honestly, I had a hard time believing I’d get convicted.
I’m not some kind of Pollyanna who thinks that the innocent never get convicted. But I figured without a motive or a witness, even the most convincing circumstantial evidence wouldn’t be enough.
At around five in the afternoon, the guards came for me again and led me to the interrogation room. They left me there alone, in handcuffs, and my stomach felt a little queasy. Was this the part where they tried to beat a confession out of me? I really, really didn’t like that my lawyer wasn’t there, and that the guards had completely ignored me when I demanded they call her.
I had about ten minutes to stew and sweat before the door opened and Adam White came in.
I wouldn’t say he was the last person I expected to see, but I was definitely surprised to see him. I raised both eyebrows as he unlocked my handcuffs and took a seat across from me at the table.
“You’re a little out of your jurisdiction, aren’t you, Adam?”
He leaned back in his chair and stared at me. I didn’t like it, but I refused to squirm. When he still didn’t say anything, the pressure was too much and I had to break the silence.