Page 17 of A Match Made in Coven
Despite his fervent declarations, Sarah Michelle remained resolute, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Black, but my answer remains the same. I cannot allow you to be involved in this investigation.”
Lorcan’s exasperation reached its peak, and he accused, “You’re using this coven rivalry as an excuse to avoid dealing with the attraction between us.”
Sarah Michelle’s posture stiffened, her eyes widening at his bold statement. In a level, polite tone, she reminded him, “Mr. Black, these affirmations are entirely unprofessional. I must insist that we maintain appropriate boundaries. Regardless of family ties, murder investigations are sealed. I can’t have a civilian involved.” She stood, smoothing her coat and fixing him with a controlled gaze. “Have a good day.”
With that, she turned and stormed out of the coffee shop, leaving Lorcan to watch her retreating form. He wouldn’t let her get rid of him. It wasn’t even about the electricity that crackled in the air whenever they were near each other. He couldn’t sit idly while his best friend’s murderer walked free.
He’d do it alone if he had to. Lorcan would leave no stone unturned, no lead unfollowed, until justice was served.
Chapter Ten
Tall, Blond, and Insufferable
SARAH MICHELLE
The summon arrived at about mid-morning. Sarah Michelle strode into Chief Inquisitor King’s office, already knowing what it’d be about. Riley looked up from his desk, dark eyes assessing her. “What’s the latest on the Preston case?”
Right on point.
She stood at attention, meeting his gaze. “I interviewed those closest to Elijah Preston yesterday: his ex-wife Zoe, his business partner,”—she faltered, she couldn’t bring herself to say Lorcan’s name aloud—“the victim’s close family, and a few key employees at Cornerstone Constructions,” Sarah Michelle reported, her voice again steady and professional. “I also followed up on a lead about a potential suspect, but it didn’t pan out.”
“What lead?”
“Preston had a public spat with a rival contractor, Chad Hamilton, but it was a dead end. Hamilton has a solid alibi for the time of the murder and no criminal record. Not the kind of man to hire a hitman over a construction bid. I asked the financial team to dig into Preston’s accounts and am waiting for the report.”
Riley leaned back in his chair, frowning. “Any other leads on the horizon?”
“Not currently,” Sarah Michelle admitted, frustration simmering under her professionalism. “But I’ll keep digging.”
“See that you do. I expect your best work. The crime scene’s been unsealed, the evidence logged. Might be a good place to start.”
“I’ll head to the evidence room now.” She turned on her heel and exited, Riley’s expectant gaze boring into her back.
The evidence room was a lifeless space with no windows and harsh fluorescent lights bouncing off metal shelves stacked with carefully labeled bags and boxes. The hum of the ventilation provided a droning soundtrack as Sarah Michelle rifled through the cataloged items with a single-minded focus: find a lead. Preston’s bloodstained clothes, his personal effects, copies of his hard-drives, and scattered documents… She examined each piece, searching for any overlooked clue.
A scribbled name repeated on several papers jumped out to her: Manor String. In some scrawls, Elijah had also doodled an asterisk near the words.
A quick search on the regular human Internet turned up nothing. The Darknet was another hole in the water. She made a note to ask Andromeda if she could dig up something about it in the most remote recesses of the web.
She put the stacks of otherwise useless papers aside and, plugging the copied hard drives into the evidence room computer, she started combing through Elijah’s digital records.
But as the hours dragged on, not a single scrap pointed to a viable suspect. It was like grasping at mist that dissolved in her hands. Sarah Michelle clenched her jaw. She couldn’t let Riley down, couldn’t let this case go cold. But the solution wasn’t sitting in this evidence room.
But where else to look? She was out of ideas. But Sarah Michelle wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t. Even if she had to turn over every rock in Salem.
The sun had already disappeared when Sarah Michelle stepped out of the police station, the chill night air doing little to cool her frustration. The day had been an absolute bust—not what the boss expected from her. She’d deal with that tomorrow. Now she wanted to go home, maybe drown her sorrows in a pint of midnight ice cream and a trashy witch romance novel.
But the gargoyles had other plans.
The moment she stepped onto the quiet street flanking the station, her eyes snagged on Lorcan Black lounging casually against a gnarled oak tree. He looked like he owned the hexing place. Shadows danced across his chiseled features. The breeze ruffled his golden hair, but he seemed unaffected by the fall chill. He must’ve wrapped himself in a warming spell. Magic bubbles were his specialty.
Sarah Michelle’s jaw clenched. She’d already had a crappy day. The last thing she needed was a run-in with Salem’s most infuriating wizard. But she couldn’t ignore him, not when he was clearly waiting for her. Squaring her shoulders, she marched over.
“Mr. Black,” she huffed. “What can the Salem MPD do for you?”
Lorcan’s lips quirked in that maddeningly smug grin. “The real question, detective, is whatIcan do foryou.”
Sarah Michelle blinked. “Excuse me?”
