I lifted a saltshaker and set it between us. “Cold cases.”
Christian chuckled. “Ah, to be the rookie again. Sifting through old papers and given menial tasks to make you believe your opinion matters.”
“It’s smart of him. Maybe you guys are used to looking at something from a certain angle, and a fresh pair of eyes might see something new.”
He laced his fingers together. “Pray tell, what have your fresh eyes uncovered?”
I tapped the saltshaker and accidentally tipped it over. “Why hasn’t anyone pursued the case involving Vampire trafficking? The one with all the women who are promised to be newly made?”
He pinched salt between two fingers and flicked it over his shoulder. “We could never outbid anyone at a black market auction. And without victims, we have nothing. We can’t even be sure if a crime is being committed. It might come as a surprise, but there happens to be a lot of women who have fantasies about beingkeptby a man. Not everyone for sale on the black market is an unwilling victim.”
“Did you look at any missing-persons reports? I don’t mean Breed ones, but a nationwide search in the human databases.”
“Aye. But we came up with no matches based on the description. In some cases, they included a photograph.”
“That means whoever’s behind this is preying upon women who won’t be missed. He takes them, makes them, and sells them.”
Christian leaned back and draped his arms across the top of the red vinyl seat. “What makes you believe all the cases are linked? It’s just an increase in Vampire trafficking. Demand affects supply.”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was the typo.”
He furrowed his brow. “Typo?”
“Didn’t anyone notice that some of the descriptions had the same typo? He didn’t spelldiscreetwith doublee’s. He wrote: D-I-S-C-R-E-T-E. That doesn’t have the same meaning. I also think he’s an American.”
Christian snorted and set his arms on the table. “You’re just full of theories this morning. I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but there are a lot of illiterate immortals in the world. English isn’t everyone’s first language.”
“Including yours?”
He narrowed his eyes when Betty set down our plates and glasses.
“Anything else?” she asked, her green eyes twinkling at me.
I bit my lip and hesitated on answering.
“Your slice of pie is in the warmer.” She placed two straws on the table and gave me a wink before heading back to the kitchen.
Christian poked at his sandwich. “Assuming one person is behind all the trafficking, what makes you think he’s an American?”
I tore the end off the paper around the straw and blew the wrapper at Christian’s forehead. It bounced off and landed on his plate. “He used words that have alternate spellings in England, Canada, and all those other countries. I didn’t see anything that suggested he’s a foreigner.”
Christian threw up his hands. “Well, for feck’s sake. You’ve solved the case! We’re after an American who can’t spell, which makes everyone at table five a suspect.”
I glanced over at a man who was trying to balance a spoon on his nose. “Make fun all you want. I gave Wyatt my notes, and he’s adding them to the file. You never know when little things like that might come up later. You’re just mad because you didn’t notice it first with your ancient, dusty eyeballs.”
He held up a spoon. “May I borrow yours?”
I smiled at the private joke, the one referring to our trip to Washington when a Shifter had planned to spoon my eye out.
Christian tugged on his earlobe. “Don’t get too wrapped up in those files, Raven. The more obsessed you become over a dead file, the harder it is to focus on the work at hand. You need to concentrate on the open investigations. We aren’t always paid for solving old crimes, and not all of them were contracted to us. Some fell in our laps, and Viktor took them on as charity cases.”
“I know. It just gives me something to do.”
“Well, you should have gotten a nice paycheck deposited into your account after the last case. Perhaps you should kill some time and go to the zoo.”
“Why? I already live with the circus.”
He cracked a smile. “Touché.”
