Page 33 of Looking Grimm

The anchorwoman nodded, her slick black hair reflecting the studio lights. “Are there any leads on the suspect’s identity?”

I barked a laugh. Who needed leads when they had photographic evidence? All they lacked was a signed confession. If they asked for that, I imagined they would get it. Someone on the Hex side had already perfected my autograph.

Holland paused, and I thought she might play this one close to the chest. But what was worse: pretending they didn’t recognize my infamous face or admitting the criminal they’d exonerated a few months ago was up to his old antics?

New antics, I supposed. I’d never resorted to poisoning people or leaving bodies lying around like calling cards. Well, except poor Charlie.

“We’re actively pursuingallleads,” Holland replied, “but we feel confident enough to name former Bloody Hex member Fitch Patrick Farrow as our primary suspect. We urge the public to come forward with any information that may assist in his capture.”

The anchorwoman didn’t even bother to look surprised as the broadcast cut to a picture of my shitty mugshot.

I flipped my middle finger at the TV, but not before pausing to consider that I looked about as put together these days as I had in prison. Grimm had been kind with his illusioned version of me. Fake Fitch looked like he’d put more time into his self-care routine than I had in months.

The tip line phone number scrolled across the screen as the anchorwoman came back into view. “What about the missing investigators?” she asked.

The camera must have cut to Holland before she was ready because she looked suddenly stricken. I remembered how distraught she’d been when Tobin was dying and her fears about having to tell his family the bad news. Now, she faced that reality again for both Vesper and Felix.

Her throat bobbed through a swallow. “We are deeply concerned about the investigators who are currently missing. Specialized search and rescue operations are underway, and we will keep the public informed as the situation develops. We advise everyone to remain vigilant and report any suspicious activity. As always we remain committed to ensuring the safety of our community. Thank you.”

Reaching around the back of the television, I managed to turn it off, then sat on my knees and stared at my reflection in the black screen.

A grunt from behind me announced another figure stepping into the picture.

“That’s unfortunate,” Ripley said.

I whipped around to pin him with a glare. “You think?” I snapped.

Maggie leaned against his side. Her pink hair was twistedinto a long braid, and her eyes were smudged with black liner. Her wave and sleepy smile managed to reduce my anger to a manageable level, and I sighed before standing.

“I don’t suppose you got an early start this morning?” Ripley mused as I walked back to the chair and sank into it. The sweet and sour chicken would go wanting through another mealtime. My appetite was gone.

“On mass murder?” I scowled at him again. “No. I was next door. All night.”

He made another grumbled sound. “Thought so.”

I slumped forward in my seat with my elbows on my knees and my face pressed into my hands. “What am I supposed to do?” I mumbled. “Vesper and Felix are missing. We have two of theirs; the Hex has two of ours.”

“Notours,” Ripley corrected. He sounded distant, then closer before a ball of fabric draped over my shoulder. “Not even yours, really.”

Peering out, I found a shirt and pants hung across my bare back and Ripley standing before me. He looked pointedly at my boxers, then at Maggie spinning circles behind the loveseat.

I took the hint and stood long enough to pull on the clothes before collapsing in the chair once more. “It’s my fault,” I said, “and if I kill them…” My gaze angled toward the wall separating us from the Everett twins.

“You meanwhen.” Ripley picked up the bloody steak plate and takeout boxes, ferrying them to the kitchenette. Maggie bounded along behind him, looking ready to jump on his back the moment he gave her the chance.

“I meanif, Rip,” I replied. “IfI kill them, I’ll be killing Vesper and Felix, too.”

The sink turned on, and he set about scrubbing the dish while Maggie stood with her arms looped around his waist. He could barely budge with her latched on, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Lifting the towel from the countertop, he turned carefully toward me. “Were you very close to them?” He gave the plate a few swipes, then set it and the towel aside.

Of the three, I was least attached to Tobin, though he and I had made some progress after Holland’s birthday party. I didn’t take particular issue with any of them, but we weren’t close.

“Not especially,” I admitted.

“Then be grateful. Every war has casualties,” Ripley said. He clasped his hands atop Maggie’s on his stomach.

I frowned. “Why does everyone keep talking about war?”

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