Page 88 of For Dear Life

“No,” he mutters. “Will you let me speak to the receptionist? You’re... agitated.”

“I am not,” I snap, pulling at a thread on my sweater sleeve.

“Uh. Violet. The bond along with your whole demeanor tells me otherwise,” he says cautiously.

“If I were agitated, I wouldn’t listen to somebody. I’d simply attack them.”

Rowan glances at the round-cheeked, officious staff member who’s now completely still, eyes wider. “Can you at least be quiet until I’ve discovered where Leif is and what’s happening?” he snaps back.

Clenching and unclenching my fists, I stalk towards the metal bench that spans the wall opposite and to the left of the area I’m trying to pass through. Amongst them, a middle-aged woman sits stiffly, clutching a small black purse on her lap, and looks as ready to explode as I am.

No memorials today, so the station fills with more bodies and accompanying noise than my last visit. The situation’s made worse by my close proximity to so much talking and shouting, all of which grates on my remaining nerve.

I cross my arms and lean forward to look towards a closed door at the end of the entrance hallway. One person in uniform went through earlier. Is this where the humans are holding Leif?

Why?

Rowan has his elbows on the woman’s reception desk, leaning in to speak and she’s ignoring him, tapping her keyboard. We’re getting no more information from her. I bounce a look around those gathered again. Are Oz’s parents here? Leif’s mother? The pissed woman beside me is definitely human, but Leif’s mother lives a few hours’ drive from the town, which means she won’t be here yet.

Rowan returns and throws himself onto the bench beside me, bringing a whole load of his own agitation. “They’re keeping Leif here tonight. That’s all she’ll tell me.”

“Why? Logan said Oz confessed.”

One of the detectives who enjoyed sausages at the memorial BBQ appears from behind the focal door at the end of the hallway and halts when he sees me. I’m on my feet and over to the graying man, who’s shrugging on his black suit jacket, before he can take another breath.

The detective barely flinches, greeting me with the usual disdainful look in his hazel eyes. “My, you can move fast, Ms. Blackwood.”

“Why have you arrested Leif?” I demand.

“Because he’s a murder suspect.”

“Leif would never murder someone,” I say. “He isn’t capable.”

“Everybody’s capable, especially someone who’s half-shifter.”

Our locked gaze doesn’t break. “I can assure you that I’ve met enough killers to identify the type who would or would not kill. Leif is not one. Release him.”

The detective scoffs. “Your delusions of grandeur continue, I see.”

He looks behind at Rowan approaching too, and instantly, I shove into the detective’s mind. I’ll deal with the consequences if he notices, and at least if I’m arrested, Dorian will appear to help. I’m pissed that he hasn’t replied to my messages yet and half-expected my father here. Where is he when I need him?

In the man’s mind, I catch a glimpse of a laptop screen displaying footage taken in the dark woods, then quickly withdraw before he feels the tickle from my intrusion. What the…?

“Where’s Dorian?” I ask him.

“Not required. This is a shifter and human investigation. Unless those under his jurisdiction become involved, the man stays away.”

“Witches are involved! I’m calling my father,” I announce.

“Do what you like. He has no influence in this case. Unless...” He lifts a bushy brow. “You’re involved.”

“You are an idiot,” I state loudly. “All of you. When you interviewed Leif, did he tell you about the witches at the hospital?”

With a tight smile, the detective takes my shoulders and moves me to one side, earning himself a low snarl. “You’re not the sweet little thing your appearance suggests,” he says, leaning down to speak close to my ear.

“Anybody who thinks I’m sweet fools themselves. I’m entirely clear what and who I am. It’s also becoming apparent I’ve superior intelligence to you, Detective.”

Rowan’s hand slides into mine and squeezes, a move which becomes more familiar each time: ‘shut up, Violet’.

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