I DON’T LIKE MAKING PLANS, THEN WORDS LIKE PREMEDITATED GET THROWN AROUND.
“They’ll give it back, Pop.” I give the security agent a placating smile for dealing with Dad. I’m sure he’s not the first cop who didn’t want to give up his firearm.
“I know they’ll give it back. I just don’t see why they need to take it in the first place,” Dad grumbles before finally placing his gun in a plastic tray.
The security officer hands over a ticket printed out from a small handheld machine. “If you lose this, you will have to file a claim and wait seven days before you can get it back.”
Dad gives the man a glare I like to call the hairy eyeball, shoves the ticket deep into his pocket, then steps away from the security checkpoint.
Belinda eyes the main floor lobby, clinging to the strap of her purse with both hands as if she’s ready to use it as a weapon.
“Come on, guys.” I motion to the bank of elevators, inviting them to lead the way. I work up on the seventh floor, and that’s where Lewis’ office is. She’s probably already been alerted that I’m in the building. Dad places a comforting hand on Belinda’s back and guides her forward. My familiar, Percival, is perched on my shoulder with his long tail partially wrapped around the back of my neck. It’s strange how quickly I’ve grown used to his comforting weight, and it’s even better now that his little claws aren’t threatening to pierce my skin.
The elevator ride is quiet and slightly awkward. Dad doesn’t want to be here, while Belinda seems to understand the necessity, but I’d bet she’d rather be anywhere else too. When the number six illuminates, I straighten my shirt and smooth a hand over my hair. It feels like I’ve been away a lot longer than a couple of weeks.
The floor is bustling with people when we exit the elevator. My team isn’t the only one that occupies this level, but we take up the bulk of it. I spot Ambrose with his arm propped up on top of a cubicle divider. He seems to be deep in conversation with Johnson, another agent on our team. I pass them without interruption, skirting the room to head straight to Lewis’ office.
The security here is better than Elmwood’s, but I could still get in and out without detection,Percy brags.
I reach up and scratch between his ears. “We’ll get you registered so there won’t be any need for sneaking about after we talk to Lewis.”
I’ll find you when you’re done. I smell a vole, he tells me and climbs down my shoulder, hopping onto a desk we pass.
All the blinds are closed in Lewis’ office, but her door is open. I do a quick rap on the window anyway and announce myself. “Afternoon, Lewis. May we come in?”
She looks up from her computer, her dark eyes sharp and assessing as she gazes at me. “Bishop,” she greets and gives me a slight nod. There are two vacant chairs in front of her desk. I motion for Belinda and Dad to take those while I stand off to the side. Dad starts to lower himself, but then he sees me standing and reconsiders. I give him a small shake of my head, and he finally sits down.
Lewis regards them both. “Mr. Bishop, Ms. Miller.”
“Marty is fine,” Dad supplies. His voice isn’t exactly curt, but he doesn’t sound pleased, so the fact that this isn’t a social call is obvious.
Lewis doesn’t reply to his offer of familiarity. Instead, she laces her fingers together on her desk and gets right to the point. “I appreciate you coming in to talk with me, both of you.” She’s trading glances between them, making sure to include Belinda in the conversation. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what a dangerous man your husband is—”
“Ex-husband,” Belinda corrects. “He would never give me a divorce, but I haven’t considered myself married in a long time, nor do I need a reminder of his character.”
Lewis nods. “Good, that should make this simpler. We were able to get an arrest warrant for him in Vegas. It took us a little time to get a judge’s approval, but you helped with that. The fact that he marked you with tracking sigils against your will was more than enough evidence to get a case started on him.”
Belinda presses her elbow to her side. I bet her arm is right over the ruined sigil Lewis is referring to. Dad reaches over and places his hand on top of Belinda’s thigh, giving her the gentle reassurance of his presence.
“After obtaining an arrest warrant, my team went to pick him up. We wanted to handle the arrest ourselves and gather any further incriminating evidence there might have been instead of giving it over to the Vegas field office, but the house was damn near empty.” Lewis sits back in her chair. I know from personal experience she hates thinking someone got the jump on her. Judging by the way her dark eyes are narrowed and the set of her jaw, she thinks that happened here.
“He abandoned Desert Regency?” Belinda asks disbelievingly.
“As I said, the estate was nearly empty, except for a message he intended to be delivered to you.”
Belinda swallows thickly, and her voice is a light whisper when she asks, “What did it say?”
“I’d actually like you to take a look at it and maybe confirm it did indeed come from him,” Lewis replies while watching Belinda closely.
“I’m sure you have several ways to confirm the note came from him. Why do you want her to look at it?” Dad questions dubiously.
“Bursa’s DNA is on the letter, that’s already been confirmed, but I’d like her to speak to his state of mind. Would this have been something he wrote himself, or had someone else help him with? I’d like to know as much about him as possible.”
Dad’s brows drop. He’s probably thinking the same thing I am—what was in that message?
“I’ll look at it, but I’m sure it was William. He never needed anyone to help inspire terror. I think he saw it as one of his greatest illusions, hiding all the nastiness that lives inside him behind what he shows everyone on the outside.”
Lewis flips open a folder to the left of her computer. The top piece of paper is a sheet of stationary with neatly scrawled script. “This is a copy, so there’s no need to worry about any hidden spells that will target you. We had a multiplier mimic the text exactly as it was for safety reasons. The original is being analyzed.” Lewis still handles the paper with care, touching only the corner to turn the sheet around while it’s on the desk so Belinda can get a look at it.
