“I hope she likes you,” I tell the newt, giving him a quick pat on the head. Then I re-zip the bag and quicken my pace as I near my apartment.
“Webb.”
From behind me, Rafe’s voice carries an undercurrent of urgency that makes my muscles tense. And when I turn to face him, his expression only adds to it.
“What’s up?” I ask, selfishly hoping he’s not about to tell me something that’ll delay me going to see Noelle. “Did you want to talk about the Seattle job? I submitted my reports and recommendations already. If you?—”
“It’s not the Seattle job.” As he nears me, I notice the concern in his gaze.
“What is it, then?” A worrying thought hits me. “Is it Eden? Is she okay?”
“Eden’s fine.” Rafe comes to a stop. His features are hard. Solemn. A muscle in his jaw twitches. “I was going to call you, but then I saw you come in, so—” He grimaces.
My gut twists. “What’s wrong?”
He puffs out a heavy breath. “I just got the autopsy report on Ken Donaldson.”
Worry sharpens my tone. “And?”
“He didn’t die of natural causes, like we thought.”
“What?”
Rafe gives a quick nod. “They didn’t prioritize it because it seemed cut and dry. Sixty-two-year-old male, high blood pressure, suspected heart attack…” He scowls. “The guy was poisoned.”
“What?”
“Arsenic. Can you believe that?” He shakes his head. “Fucking arsenic. Did you know you can buy it online? It’s— Never mind. It doesn’t matter. But this changes things.”
“Someone killed him?” My pulse races at the implications. “How did they do it?”
“They don’t know yet. The results just came in this morning. Tyler’s on it right now. And I’m going to head to Portland to meet with the police.”
A chilling thought clutches at me. “What if they think Noelle did it? She would have had motive. She hadn’t left Blade and Arrow, but still, they’ll question her. She’s already been?—”
I snatch at my phone. “I need to call her. Shit.”
“Where is she now?” Rafe asks.
“The diner. She’s working a double. She texted me… three hours ago. Right when she was leaving for her shift.”
My gut isn’t just telling me something’s wrong, it’s shouting it.
We thought everything was over. But if Donaldson was poisoned… Fuck. The police will drag her in for questioning, and even though she’s got an ironclad alibi—she was here with seven other people around—it’ll be so incredibly stressful for her. Her nightmares…
As her phone kicks over to voicemail, the terrible feeling in my gut intensifies. I leave her a message to call me back, then send a text saying the same.
Rafe looks at me with a concerned expression. “She’s not answering?”
“No.” I drop my duffel on the floor. “She’s probably busy, but… shit. I just need to talk to her.”
Forget showering and changing. I need to get over there now. Turning on my heel, I start jogging back towards the living room. “I’m going over to the diner. I want to make sure she’s okay.”
“Spidey. Calm down.”
I spin back around and snap, “How can I calm down? They’re going to drag her to the station. Accuse her of murdering the man who harassed her. He had a fucking gun in his closet, Rafe. An unregistered gun. Fuck knows what he was going to do with it. She would have been in her rights to kill him. But Noelle… she feels guilty that she’s not sad about him dying. She would never?—”
Rafe closes the distance between us and grips my shoulder, giving it a hard shake. “Calm. Down. We’ll handle it. And before you drive over there like a maniac, just call the diner. They have a landline there, don’t they? You can talk to Noelle. Ask her if she can cut out of work early. Bring her back here, we’ll all meet, and we’ll take care of this. Okay?”
