“Of course. Give me a call if you need anything else,” JJ says louder, talking more to Dad than me.
I make my way around to the passenger side of the car and focus my attention on the search. That has to be better than thinking about how much has changed and the fact that life just keeps moving forward, even without me.
Dad and I are both quiet as we perform the task. I search the glovebox and under the seat but come up empty. “This guy doesn’t even have a dime-store spell in here. It’s completely clean.”
“Nothing in the back either. Let’s sort the stuff in the trunk,” Dad grumbles as he pulls his head out from behind the front seat he pushed forward to get a look into the back. “You get anything from back here?” Dad motions to the now open trunk.
“Nothing active, but that doesn’t mean it’s clear.” I reach for the garment bag and unfold it so I can get to the zipper.
There’s a white button-up shirt on top of the pile. The sheer size of it seems wrong for Mark. “This could be our victim’s.” I don’t want to pull it out and mar any trace DNA that Murrey might be able to get off it. Dad uses the tip of his ever ready pen to pull down the front collar to inspect the tag. “Why don’t we take this stuff inside where we can examine it better?”
Dad makes a grunting sound. “I thought we might find something more incriminating to hold him on. I’m not going to be able to keep him in custody longer than overnight once his lawyer gets here.”
“I’m not picking up on any sanctioned magic, but we might be able to prove he’s connected to our body if we can get Murrey to run a quick sample on these.” I motion to the clothes.
Dad zips the garment bag back up and gathers it along with the other bag before slamming the trunk closed. “I’ll let Scotty go over the car with a probe to see if he can pick up anything we missed.”
I follow him back into the building. He pauses at a door barred with a push pad numeral lock, then steps to the side so I can get to the pad. “Code same as it used to be?” I question. He nods in answer. “You should change it once in a while, Pop,” I caution. Hell, the seven and nine are barely visible anymore from repeated use. A quick charm reveal spell would show the other two numbers in the code, and then it would just be a matter of elimination for anyone to get inside the evidence lockup.
“What for? Plus, I’d probably forget it.” He motions for me to open the door again.
I enter the four-digit code, and the lock springs free. Their storage room is large, with metal shelving lining three of the four walls. There’s a small desk to the right of the door and a large table in the center of the room. Dad plops the bags on the table and reaches for a pair of blue gloves from a box on the shelf.
The gloves work as a barrier to keep any magic from touching his skin. Ambiguous magic needs something to latch onto to activate, like contact with a host. Magic cast with a purpose or a target needs a catalyst too, like a strand of hair or blood, if you want the spell to be really strong and focused on the intended recipient. The gloves will also keep any of his DNA from contaminating the items in the bag.
I slip on my own gloves as Dad starts to take everything out of the garment bag. The suits, which seem freshly laundered, are underwhelming to say the least. Even the pockets are empty. Our only saving grace is the sheer size of some of the items. They are way too big for Mark.
Dad moves on to the second bag. This one holds two shaving kits and what I’m guessing are dirty clothes. Dad plants both of his hands on the table and lowers his head. “If there’s something here worth running for, I sure don’t see it.”
“Maybe that’s why he decided to stop for Scotty.” I sort through the shaving kits and pull out the razors. “These look used. Murrey should be able to compare the DNA and connect them if this stuff really does belong to the body. He also may get a solid identity forMark.”
Dad rips off his gloves and tosses them in a nearby bin. “I’ll call him.” His back is rigid as he exits the room, telling me he is pissed.
I leave everything on the table after giving it another thorough once-over. When I exit the room, the hall is empty, but I can hear voices, familiar voices. “You need to tell her. She isn’t going to be happy when she finds out what you two have been up to.” Dad has a slight edge to his tone.
“I keep trying, but the timing—”
“Is never right,” Remy says, finishing Felix’s sentence after a short pause.
“She’s not going to care about timing, you morons. Just tell her.” Dad turns the corner and comes face-to-face with me. I look at him for a long time. He knows something, something about the guys that involves me, and he didn’t tell me. A sense of betrayal washes over me, making it hard to breathe.
I watch his face as his lips tighten and his eyes narrow, but he snaps his head to the left and sends his glare toward the room he exited. I push past him and level my own glare at Remy and Felix, who stare back with wide eyes. “Care to fill me in on what you were discussing?” My words are civil, but my tone is anything but.
Felix uses his pointer finger to push up his glasses. “I mentioned there was something we wanted to tell you.”
“And?” I plant my hands on my hips. My feet hurt, I’m hungry again, and my emotions are all over the place. Whatever news he’s about to deliver probably isn’t going to make me feel better, considering how everyone seems to be avoiding it, but the Band-Aid needs to come off.
The front door of the station opens with a happy tinkle of bells, and a woman’s voice can be heard calling out, “I want to speak with my client,” in a no-nonsense manner.
“Hexes!” Dad growls. “Who let that man call his lawyer?”
Scotty pokes his head into the hall. “Chief, you better come out here.”
“How’d he notify her?” Dad asks again, keeping his voice low.
“No idea.” Scotty looks over his shoulder before adding, “It’s Bonita Carter from Smithville.”
“What the hell?” Dad takes a few steps toward Scotty.
