Wyatt sighed, still staring at his screen. “Research.”
“Viktor’s getting impatient,” she said, her shoulders hunched.
Loose hairs tickled my nose. “Why do all this research? By the time you finish, he’ll have bought a house somewhere in Paris and you’ll never find him.”
“That’s why we need Wyatt to expedite the process,” Blue said, giving him a verbal nudge. “Human witnesses aren’t enough to pin the murders on him; they’re only a lead. The information you gave us will help, but we can’t act impulsively. You didn’t actually see him in the bathroom, so you couldn’t even be a witness if something went wrong and the higher authority interrogated us. Viktor is searching for a motive.”
“And I just fell into a steaming pile of it,” Wyatt said. “Take a look at this.”
Claude stepped away, and everyone swarmed over Wyatt, transfixed by something on the screen.
I flipped my damp hair back and stood up. “What is all that?”
He scrolled through scanned copies of documents. “It took a while to gather up all the data on the suspected victims to trace where they worked. Most were business owners. These here”—he pointed out the names, tapping his screen—“are old Breed records that show Darius owned that land up until last century. I still need to map out the area and make sure the businesses fall within it, but I think that gives us all the motive we’re looking for.”
Blue hopped off the desk. “That little weasel. If Darius used to own the land, how did humans get their hands on it?”
Wyatt licked salt off his finger. “Maybe he lost it in a bet. I don’t know. I still need to dig.”
Claude patted him on the head. “Good work, Spooky. Find out if he owns any other land… now or then.”
Wyatt gave him a peevish look. “Any volunteer helpers?”
Gem flashed out of the room.
Claude turned to look at me and held out his hands. “Your hair is perfection.” In a burst of action, he ran at Chitah speed out of the room.
“I’m serious!” Wyatt called out. “Aren’t we a team?”
Blue casually strolled toward the door. “I’ll give Viktor an update.”
Wyatt dunked some fries into the cheese dip and spun around to face me. “When the going gets tough, they leave skid marks on their way out the door. There’s no way I can get this done as fast as Viktor wants it.”
“Don’t you have enough evidence?”
He tossed a fry back onto his desk. “It could backfire on Viktor if we can’t at least provide a solid motive. We’re not allowed to ignore any new evidence, even if it slows down the case. We still have to follow protocol before we move in.”
Wyatt’s monitors suddenly went black.
“Son of a ghost. That’s the second time today.” He leaned back in his chair.
“I don’t believe in ghosts.”
His eyes skated off to my left as if he were looking at someone. “That’s okay, buttercup. They don’t really care.”
“What if you just have a mental condition, like schizophrenia? I mean, I believe you can locate people buried alive, but the rest is probably just self-induced fears from spending so much time in graveyards.”
Wyatt laughed and ended it on a snort. “Who do you think keeps shutting down my computers? They get mad when I don’t talk to them.”
I shook my head. “Power failure.”
He pointed his finger at the lamp. “But the lights are still on.”
Wyatt held the can of cheese dip and swirled two fries around. “It’s a crazy world when a half Mage, half Vampire doesn’t believe in the afterlife. How did you get tape in your hair?”
I paused in the doorway, turning to answer in a playful tone. “Gem tied me to the clearance rack.”
“I always knew she was kinky.”
