Page 44 of Deadly Avarice
“Consider it done,” I echoed Pops’s earlier words.
“I love you.”
“Love you too, Pops.”
I ended the call and stared at the faces surrounding me. They’d already tried to open the door, but due to the shield charm, that wasn’t possible. They’d also tried reaching inside the window and again, that was a no-go. Now they were poking at the bullets seemingly hanging in midair.
I waved at them and gave a thumbs-up, hoping that would convey I was okay. Not even air could get through a shield charm. Voices didn’t carry either. With a heavy sigh, I leaned back in my seat, shards of glass sliding off my jacket fabric, falling to the seat and the floor. It was going to be a long day.
“Istill think you should get checked out at the hospital.” Detective Emmanuel Cardoza hovered over me, a large mug of coffee in one hand and his other fisted against hiship, pulling back his jacket and exposing his firearm. Detective Cardoza appeared to be of Hispanic descent and had medium brown skin, dark eyes, and a thick head of black hair. He was a decently attractive man. A few inches taller than myself and far broader, Detective Cardoza was someone who managed an odd mix of congeniality anddon’t fuck with meattitude. It was a difficult combination to pull off and yet he wore it very well.
“I’m fine,” I said for the fourth, maybe fifth time. Honestly, I wasn’t completely sure that was true. I currently felt fine, but that was probably due to Pops’s pain charm. I’d evaluate myself better when it wore off and make a decision from there. I’d had a few minor cuts on my face and neck from the broken glass that fell on me, but other than that, I wasn’t bleeding anywhere else. I figured there would be one hell of a bruise along my chest later from the seatbelt but considering it had stopped my head from bashing into the steering wheel, I’d take the bruise.
Detective Cardoza grunted before sitting down. His chair was enviably large and on massive rollers that allowed him to easily navigate the area around his desk.
“We’ll see if Detective O’Hare can talk anymore sense into you when he gets here.”
Franklin was on his way. I couldn’t talk him out of it and honestly, I hadn’t given that effort a lot of energy. Selfishly, I wanted Franklin here. He was probably about thirty minutes out.
“Did you get my car towed?” I asked after taking a sip of soda. I’d already gone through a vending machine package of peanut M&M’s.
“I did, but not to a garage. Sorry, Necromancer Boone, but I’m afraid your vehicle will need to be kept as evidence. I’m not certain when we’ll be able to get it back to you.
I slumped. That wasn’t great. It was the only vehicle I had, and I needed transportation to get around. I couldn’t rely onMomma or Franklin to cart my ass all over the place. I’d need to contact my insurance company and see what could be done. My sigh was long and deep when I considered that. I hated dealing with that kind of shit.
Today certainly wasn’t turning out like I expected. I’d already sent a text to Janet Meeker, apologizing but letting her know I wouldn’t be able to make it today. Surprisingly, she was very understanding and told me not to worry about it and we could reschedule.
“We’re still searching for the vehicle that ran you off the road,” Detective Cardoza said as he punched a few buttons on his keyboard.
“And the driver that shot at me.”
“That too. Have you been able to remember any more details about the vehicle?” Detective Cardoza was very patient. His demeanor didn’t read as uncaring, simply carefully polite.
“I’m sorry, but no. All I remember was that it was big, black SUV, and it had a Louisiana plate that started with S. That’s all I’ve got,” I finished with a shrug.
“And you have no idea who might want to hurt you?”
I scoffed. “That list might be a little…lengthy.” I rubbed the back of my neck and felt my cheeks flush. “I’m a necromancer.”
“I’m aware,” Detective Cardoza answered, tone flat.
“Yeah, well, that doesn’t typically gain me a lot of friends. I’m fortunate to be able to use my necromancer abilities to support my life and make a living, but those I bring back don’t always tell their loved ones what they want to hear. That’s not my fault, but considering the other party is already deceased, then I’m often the one their anger gets taken out on.”
“I see.” Detective Cardoza scribbled a note on a small pad of paper. “Anyone recently?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Let’s see, maybe Titus McMahon.”
Detective Cardoza arched an eyebrow. “He’s supposedly dead.”
I shrugged. “I can’t say for certain he’s not. All I can tell you is that the remains buried under his name don’t belong to Mr. McMahon.” Maybe the guy really was dead. Without his body, I couldn’t be certain.
Leaning back in his chair, Detective Cardoza folded his hands over his abdomen. His dark brown eyes were clear and sharp and gazed at me with interest. “You seem very certain of that.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
Cardoza’s pinky tapped along his shirt. “I find that very interesting, and potentially useful.”
“What can I say, it’s who I am.” I grinned, trying to lighten the mood.
