“Rex is dead?” Sasha repeated. “Rex Stoddard?”

The woman nodded and swiped helplessly at the tears running down her cheeks.

“Here.” Hank produced a neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her.

“Thanks,” she sniffled.

Only Hank, thought Sasha, would have a hankie.

“Who is Rex?” Naya asked Sasha in a loud whisper.

The woman answered. “He’s—hewas—my brother.”

“And he’s dead? You’re sure?” Sasha asked yet again, as if the answer might change.

“I’m positive.” She dabbed her eyes and raised her head to meet Sasha’s gaze.

“What happened?” Leo asked. “Did he fall or …?”

Please say yes.

Sasha glanced around the room at her friends. From the expressions on their faces, she wasn’t the only one hoping for Rex’s sister to supply the details of a freak fatal accident. Not because they were ghouls, but because the alternative, the one most of them were unfortunately acquainted with, was—

“—Murder. It was murder. Someone killed him.” Her voice quavered, and her eyes blazed.

Leo and Sasha exchanged a look over the woman’s head. A decade’s worth of reading one another’s expressions came in handy at this moment.

This is not our problem.

Right. We’ll walk her to the mansion and tell John and Hatty to call 911.

But should we—?

Not our problem, remember.

You’re right.

While they were having their silent exchange, Bodhi stood and grabbed his parka from the hook on the wall behind the door.

“Where are you going?” Leo asked.

Bodhi zipped the coat up to his chin, flipped the hood up, and returned the question with one of his own. “Where do you think?”

Leo sighed. “Right.” He reached for his own coat.

“Didn’t we just say we weren’t getting involved?” Sasha demanded.

“You did?” Aroostine asked. “I didn’t hear you say anything.”

The woman searched Sasha’s face in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Look—,” Sasha began.

“Annette,” she supplied.

“Okay, Annette. Bodhi is a doctor, but he isn’tjusta doctor. He’s a forensic pathologist.”

Annette shifted her gaze to Bodhi. “Really?”