Page 41 of The Hive Queen

My teeth clench with frustration. “No. But I can get one.”

“Come back when you do, and I’ll be happy to haul her into an interrogation room.” He tosses the clipboard into a basket on his desk and turns toward his computer, dismissing us.

Out of view of the guard, the back of Pen’s hand brushes mine, telling me to wait a moment. “Will she speak to somebody from the Cleaners?”

The guard rolls his head on his neck before turning a firm stare on Pen. “Did you not just hear what I said?”

“I’m not law enforcement.” She taps the glass next to his computer. “Check your file. I’ll be on the approved list.”

Annoyed, the guard turns back to his computer and clicks away, then scowls at the screen. “I need to see some ID.”

Pen reaches into her back pocket and pulls out her wallet, then tugs a laminated card free and passes it through the gap. “You can also check our website. My face will be on it.”

He taps away for longer than it should take for him to verify Pen’s identity before he returns her card. “You’re on the approved list.”

She places a hand on my shoulder. “Gavin will join me as a professional consultant.”

“Of course, he will.” The guard gives us an assessing look. “Are either of you carrying weapons?”

We shake our heads.

He points to the waiting area. “Take a seat while we get Ms. Domingues ready. I’ll come get you in a few minutes.”

Pen tucks her card away, and we walk over to the seating area.

Worried the old chair won’t hold my weight, I settle gingerly onto it, wincing when it groans.

Pen perches on the edge of hers, looking ready to bolt the moment we get a green light. Her eyes bounce around the room, taking in every detail and forming escape plans.

Knowing we’ll be left cooling our heels for a while, I slowly settle back in my chair and pull out my phone to check through my emails for anything urgent that came up since I last checked.

A couple of messages from the office of my superiors sit at the top, one with a red flag marking it urgent.

Trepidation fills me when I open the message to find an invitation for a press conference to be held later tonight to speak to the media about our next steps in locating the parking garage killer.

I nudge Pen’s leg with my knee and show her my screen.

She winces with sympathy. It’s too soon to have a game plan for finding this murderer, but the leaked photos have tied our hands. Now that the media is aware of the situation, they have their teeth locked onto it fiercer than a dog with a bone.

If we refuse to talk to them, they’ll just spread stories about police cover-ups. They wouldn’t even be lying, considering what happened with the case Bailey’s people swept under the rug.

I exit that email and go to the one above it, clicking it open.

My boss wants me to report to him two hours before the press conference to go over what we have so far and come up with a story to spin for the media.

Looks like I’m in for a long day filled with headaches.

The guard makes us wait for a solid hour during which I doze lightly, trusting Pen to wake me if something happens.

Her light touch on my knee rouses me as the steel door opens, and the guard beckons us to join him.

We enter a long gray hall with another iron door at the end that reminds me of the hall into the Cleaner’s office. My eyes lift to the ceiling and drop to the floor, checking for hidden security.

While it’s unlikely there are war-level spells here, it still functions to create a narrow tunnel that would limit prisoner movement if a riot broke out.

The guard leads us to a private room with a metal table and more uncomfortable plastic chairs. A camera in the room’s corner near the ceiling shines with a red light.

We’re being watched.

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