“Don’t you see, Lydia? I’m a monster. And the only reason I brought you here tonight was to tell you I want an annulment.”
Her mouth trembled, but she shook her head. “You don’t want that.”
Guilt sliced through me hot and thick. I pulled up outside Cupid’s Confections and reached into my laptop bag. I jerked the papers out and shoved them into her hands. “They’re all drawn up.”
I got out of the Jeep and rounded to the passenger side to open the door. Lydia held the papers as if in shock. A tear slid down her cheek.
I motioned toward the open entryway. “I’ll be back to get the papers from you, but it is best if you go inside,now.”
Lydia got out of the Jeep and hurried around the side of the building. I watched until she entered her home through the side entrance. Then I raced to my Jeep and started the engine, trying to ignore how the look of betrayal in Lydia’s eyes made me feel like I was the worst scumbag on this earth.
I peeled onto the street and drove.
Chapter 3
Idroppedthebodyoff behind the police station. Even if someone like Mr. Rothschild had seen something happening at my house, at least nobody would think I was the one who killed the victim. I hoped.
After leaving the body, I drove for a bit, trying to decide what to do. It all depended on what the person who called the authorities saw. Perhaps if I headed home now, I could play it off as if I hadn’t been there all evening. I mean, I wasn’t home when it happened. And I had an alibi. Perhaps I was freaking out over nothing.
The only problem was that if anyone examined too closely, they’d uncover the truth that the body was undoubtedly meant to reveal.
That the killer was a vampire.
Vampires in Austen Heights, or well, anywhere, were illegal.
The sun was setting for the day, so I switched on my headlights. A small amount of snow continued to fall gracefully outside, landing in silent whispers in the street’s glow in front of me. I took a slow breath. Unless I wanted to spend the rest of my life in hiding, I’d have to go home and see what the police suspected.
I drove to my townhouse and steeled my nerves at the red and blue lights flashing from several patrol cars. I shut my eyes. I only needed to pretend innocence.
Iwasinnocent.
Opening the door, I stepped out. I caught sight of old man Rothschild in his pajamas, though it was only early evening, standing with the police. He spoke to a woman with graying hair that I recognized as Marge, a resident witch detective who worked alongside law enforcement. My neighbor’s hands gestured wildly. That wasn’t necessarily a sign of concern. Mr. Rothschild always had a story to tell, whether it was about the time he fought off a cougar with a folding chair, or the instance when he got in a fistfight with the previous town mayor over a parking spot.
“Sawthem out my window. Two people. It proved difficult to see, and they had on heavy coats and beanies, so I couldn’t discern particulars. As I watched, I swear I witnessed one attack the other, and the second man collapsed. The hedge blocked the rest of my view. Then the first man ran off, and I immediately called the police.”
A vampire couldn’t completely drain a person of blood in such a short time. I mean, I wasn’t an expert or anything—I didn’t have a vampire stopwatch—but still. If the victim had already been, uh, pre-drained, then sure, maybe it wouldn’t take long to finish the job. Efficiency and all that. Perhaps whoever was trying to set me up had compelled the fae guy to tag along to my townhome—and when they realized Rothschild was watching (because of course he was, that man could detect a scandal through three walls), the killer probably staged a fake fight to make him call the cops faster. Which, honestly, was kind of genius… if you ignored the murder part.
“What did you do after that?” Marge asked Mr. Rothschild.
“Well, I had to use the bathroom. When nature calls at my age… itcalls, you know?”
Marge caught sight of me and directed Mr. Rothschild to another cop to tell his story. She walked up, notepad in hand. I noticed the heavy sweater under her coat with an image of asnowman in a monocle and a top hat that read, “Freeze a Jolly Good Fellow.”
“George Wickham?”
Looking around, I feigned shock. “Is something wrong?”
“We got a phone call about suspicious activity happening on your property at roughly 7:00 p.m. this evening. The person who phoned said there were two figures, and they appeared to have had an altercation, and one ended up leaving and the other… we aren’t sure what happened to them. Do you know anything about this?”
“A fight at my house?” I said, trying to filter as much surprise as possible into my voice. “I’ve no idea. Around that time, I was leaving the Winter Festival.” I leaned over, looking past Marge at my front doorstep. “Is the other man in the area?”
“There’s nobody nearby from what we can tell.” She sighed. “This is the last favor I put in for you, Reginald,” Marge muttered as she scribbled in her notebook. She cast an exasperated look in my neighbor’s direction.
She paused, staring down at something, then glanced up at me. “Weren’t you just investigated on charges of murder?”
“I was found innocent,” I said quickly.
A police officer hurried over and whispered into Marge’s ear. Even though he kept his voice low, I heard every word. “A body was just discovered behind the police station. Preliminary findings indicate that someone drained the body of blood.”
