She was on the brink of agreeing—he could give his statement to the police—but considered the advantage of leaving an attorney and state senator to keep watch over her sister.
“Stay,” she said. “Please. Make sure she’s OK.”
He hesitated. Then he nodded.
Tanner had interviewed her in Peter’s hospital room several times while Peter was trapped in the coma. Now he led them through hallways, passing unoccupied rooms, and straight out of the hospital to a waiting car.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“The police station.”
Beatrix closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on breathing, instead of how the police car was taking her farther from Lydia by the second.
Officers in the station stared as the two of them walked by. She glanced down and, with a sickening lurch, realized that her sister’s blood was smeared across the front of her dress. She tore off the sash—the gold “Fair Play” letters splotched a rust-red—as she followed Tanner into a small room with a table and three chairs.
Tanner sat. Another police officer joined him.
“Mrs. Blackwell,” Tanner said, “before we begin, let me point out that you have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
Her breath stuck in her throat.What?
The questions were so off the wall she couldn’t help but answer them. No, Peter wasn’t obsessed with her sister. No, she wasn’t jealous of her sister. For heaven’s sake,no,shehadn’ttold Peter to kill her sister!
“Listen,” she said, “he didn’t attack her. Hedidn’t. Ask Mitchell Gray, the Maryland senator—he had a good view of what happened.”
Tanner’s partner cocked his head. “And what did happen, in your view?”
“A wizard put him under a spell.”
“What wizard?”
“Someone working for the Abbott administration.”
“For what purpose?”
“To kill Lydia and frame someone else for it.”
Tanner’s partner rolled his eyes. “It’s always the wizards’ fault with you people, isn’t it?”
“No, but in this case?—”
“Do you have any proof for such a wild accusation? Besides whatever some state senator thinks he saw, and keep in mind that there were newsreel crews there—we’ve seen the footage.”
What could she say? That the vice president’s estranged daughter insisted Lydia was in danger?(No, detectives, Idon’t know where she is. Also, she might be insane. Just warning you.)
That Lydia already had experienced a brush with death, albeit on Garrett’s say-so?(Well, detectives, the only ones who saw that besides Peter and me are a few other League leaders. You know, the people you think blame wizards for everything.)
That the magiocracy tapped their telephones and bugged her former house?(No, detectives, I can’t offer any hard evidence it was them, but Peter, Ella and I did see the vice president’s wizard installing the recording devices. Yes, the same Ella whose whereabouts I don’t know and whose sanity I cannot vouch for.)
That Peter was no longer able to cast spells?(Yes, detectives, I realize he’s employed as an omnimancer. Who’s handling those spells? Well, I am.)
How she wished she’d brought Gray.
“If you talk to legislators who sponsored typic-rights bills, they’ll tell you how desperate the magiocracy is to stop this campaign,” she said, knowing as she formed the words how inadequate they were. “We’ve been worried about Lydia’s safety for months?—”
“Play it,” Tanner’s partner said to Tanner.
The detective leaned over, lifted something bulky onto the table—a projector—and hit a button. On the wall behind them played a scene that never happened, one that stole the breath from her lungs.
