Page 18 of Looking Grimm

The utter defeat in his expression and the way his shoulders dropped gnawed at me. I grabbed his elbow and tugged on it until he looked at me. His eyes were hard, angry.

“I didn’t kill any investigators, Nash,” I insisted but couldn’t keep myself from tagging on, “Not recently, anyway.”

“Then whathaveyou been doing?”

My phone buzzed against my leg, and I pressed my palm against it, hoping it was a phantom feeling and not an actual call coming through. But the second ring was undeniable.

Nash flashed a look of warning as I fished the cell out of my pocket and checked the caller ID.

Lyle, Holland

I clutched the phone to my chest and sucked a steadyingbreath. “I have to take this.”

Nash’s severe expression became even more so. “You can call them back,” he said. “We’re talking.”

The cell hummed again, and I cringed. “It’s important.”

“And this isn’t?”

Of course, it was important. And personal. So much so that he might as well have asked, And I’m not?

But the phone kept ringing, and the news anchor kept yammering, and the camera kept showing the autograph that wasn’t mine on the dead investigator’s face.

“I’ll be quick,” I told Nash.

His nostrils flared. “Take all the time you need.”

If only he meant that.

He punched the remote’s power button, and the television screen went black, casting the bar area in darkness and silence. He tossed the control onto the table, but it skittered off and hit the floor, popping open and allowing the batteries to roll away.

“Nash!” I yelped after him as he walked quickly away. He passed through the doorway out of the bar while I scrubbed my free hand through my hair and swore.

Pulling the cell away from my chest, I checked the screen again. It would roll to voicemail any moment, and then I would have pissed Nash off for nothing. Growling, I swiped to answer the call and pressed the phone to my ear.

“Afternoon, Investigator,” I greeted through gritted teeth. “Now’s not a great time.”

Holland launched in as though I hadn’t spoken. “Fitch? What kind of game are you playing?” Her voice carried across the line loudly enough that I had to pull the cell back a few inches. “I should’ve arrested you when I had thechance. Would have saved a life.”

“I didn’t do it,” I protested.

“Sounds like a thing you would say,” she replied. “By which I mean it sounds like bullshit.”

I snorted, pacing the floor past the broken TV remote. “Why would I warn you yesterday, then turn around and do this?”

“Because you’re an exhibitionist!” Holland exclaimed, her voice shrill. “And a braggart. This has your enormous ego written all over it. Literally.”

I looked at the empty doorway through which Nash had disappeared. Iwasruining his life. Destroying his business. Alienating his sister. I could do even more harm by bringing the cops to his door.

“Are you tracing this call?” I asked.

She didn’t sound nearly surprised enough as she responded, “What?”

“Don’t bother.” A long breath escaped me. “Briggs knows where I am.”

The investigator quickly countered. “And you can bet I’ll be sending a car, so don’t go anywhere.”

The ache of sorrow pinballed inside my chest. This time, something new came alongside it: fear. I was more alone than I’d ever been. More vulnerable. With one decisive act, Grimm had rendered me an enemy to those on both sides of the law.

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