One by one, I drop my shields. I expect the magic to hit me like a tsunami, but I can only feel a trickle of magic when I take down my final defense. Dad must see something on my face, because he risks breaking my concentration and asks, “Everything all right, Frances?”
I hold up my hand to indicate I need more time. I’ve been on a few jobs as an official agent, and I already lost my mojo. Just my luck.
Making sure not to step in the pool of blood, I inch forward, hoping it’s just a proximity issue. The undercurrent of magic is there, but it feels delicate. The power that would have been necessary to cause this kind of damage should have created a sonic echo that I could feel for days. I squint up at the high ceiling, examining that, and then I look down and study what I can see of the floor, searching for sigils. I can’t think of any other reason why I wouldn’t be able to sense the signature unless I’m being blocked, because people’s heads don’t just explode naturally.
After looking long and hard, I turn around to face Dad. “I felt the cloaking charm outside. Did one get activated in here?” I already know the answer, but it’s worth a shot.
“No.” Dad crosses his arms over his wide chest and gives me the hairy eyeball. I feel like I’m sixteen again and I just got caught with the guys at the pit.
“I can’t find a power signature big enough to cause this. Did you tell anyone I was coming?” I’m grasping at straws. Even a concealing spell shouldn’t erase the signature, it would just mute the magic.
“No, but I made everybody clear out,” Dad admits. I guess it could be an easy leap to assume he would have called me in to assist.
“Walk me through what you know. You got an ID on him yet?”
“Murrey’s working on an ID with prints and DNA, but that can take a while. The vic didn’t have anything but a money clip with a few hundred bucks in his pocket, not even a phone.” Dad looks more worried now than he did a few minutes ago. I’m a little worried too, if I’m honest. If I were on an MBI case and this happened, I would be in a pile of shit.
“Did anybody see him come into the library or walking around town? Not many people stroll around Hill Crest in a suit, plus he seems like he’d be hard to miss.” The guy appears to be well over six feet and as wide as a linebacker. The single football thought reminds me of Remy. Damnit, I haven’t thought about the guys this much in ages. I need to get out of this town. It’s like my snatch has dickdar and knows there’s quality cock nearby. Fucking hormones—literally.
“Why is your face getting all red? Are you okay, Frankie?” Dad makes a move to come over, but I jump back like he has an itching spell aimed at me.
“I’m good, just trying too hard.” I can’t look at him when I lie, he would know it right away, so I pretend to find the area behind us interesting.
“Well, damn, Frankie. I’m sorry I made you come all the way out here and it was a bust.”
I snort and glance over my shoulder. “Are you kidding? I’d rather find out my magic is on the fritz here instead of when I’m on an MBI case. Plus, it doesn’t mean I can’t help. I cut my teeth on old-fashioned police work, Pop.”
He gives me wide, hopeful eyes. “You sure? I would love the help. I miss working with ya, kid.”
My heart swells. When Iworkedwith Dad, I really was just a kid. I didn’t do much other than keep him company, but I did learn a hell of a lot. “I can stay a day or two. I already requested the time off.” I give him a shrug.As long as nobody finds out about my homecoming.
Chapter 2
Busy making bad decisions.
“You could always stay at the house, you know. I never did turn your room into a gym.” Dad’s nose is tilted slightly in the air. He’s already affronted, and I haven’t even given him shit yet.
“You don’t say.” I lean my butt on the bumper of my car and purposely scrutinize my dad. He’s a big man, always has been. He’s a little squishier around the middle than he used to be, but that just means his hugs are nicer. I have to give him a hard time though, because no one else will. I watch him suck in his gut and puff out his chest, and then I wait him out for a few seconds, knowing he won’t be able to hold his breath for long. “You’re turning a little blue. Should I call Murrey?”
Dad huffs out, and his stomach flops over his belt a little. “Shut it, kid,” he snarls with no heat.
“I’m staying at Mickey’s, already all booked. If I don’t show up, she would tell everyone in town I was here just to spite me.”
Dad nods knowingly. “All right, well, I’ll give you a call in the morning after we get the body back to the hospital. Maybe we’ll get lucky and Murrey will have an ID by then too.”
“You don’t want to send the body over to the pathologist in Monroe?”
“Nah, Murrey knows what he’s doing, and this way, it will be quicker.”
“All right,send me your interviews so I can give those a look.” I open my door and drop into the seat. Dad follows me and props one arm on the top of my car and the other on my open door.
“I’ll send them in the morning. I want you to get some sleep.” He knows me too well, but he should also know I need something to keep my mind off my magic not working. If he won’t send me the interview notes, at least I can wheedle some information out of him. “Who found the body?”
“Belinda—Ms. Miller,” he corrects. “But she didn’t have anything to do with it.” It isn’t like him to volunteer information that isn’t founded in fact, especially when it comes to his work, and it’s too early to make that claim, so it makes me curious why he would do it now.
“What makes you so sure?”
Dad averts his eyes and looks toward the sidewalk. “She’s a librarian,” he scoffs.
