“Don’t worry about it.” I glanced over at him, wondering if it was my place to ask. Max and I weren’t close like me and Axel, or Mase, but I knew him well enough. “Mase said you had pack business to take care of. Everything okay?”
He shot me a wry smile. “Not really, but thanks for asking.” We reached the entrance to the police station and Max opened the door for me. “And it’s nothing I can talk about, so don’t take this as me being rude.”
“Fair enough.” I understood that probably more than he realised. As soon as we were inside the building, Max led me to his office, shutting the door behind us once we were inside.
He perched on the edge of his desk while I took Mase’s chair.
“Thomas Finch was found dead in his cell this morning.”
I frowned. “I don’t recognise the name.”
“He was the Silver Arrows hunter working with Tombs. We transferred him to the human detention centre in Nottingham to await his trial.”
“And now he’s dead?”
Max nodded.
“Natural causes?”
“No.”
There was something about the way Max’s jaw clenched. “Let me guess,” I said, resting my elbows on the desk. “He died from Blue Alhuirn poisoning?”
“You’re not just a pretty face, are you?” His smile was fleeting, and he ran a hand through his hair. “But that’s not the reason I asked you to come in.”
“Got to say, I’m starting to wonder what this has to do with me.” I patted Mase’s desk. “I take it they still aren’t back yet?”
“No, and that’s a very good thing because the last visitor Finch had before he died was apparently Gabriel Mason.”
I stared at him, letting that sink in. “And when was that?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“Which is impossible, because he, Axel, and Dathal are still in the Fae Realm.” I started to put the pieces together. “So someone used magic to gain access to him as Mase, then slipped him the poison. Someone who is more than likely a witch.”
“That’s the assumption.”
“Wait.” My heart leapt to my throat. “You don’t think it was me, do you?” Fuck, was I going to have to tell Max about my magic to clear my name?
“Personally, no.” He grimaced. “But I do need to clarify your whereabouts at two o’clock yesterday afternoon as a formality.”
Thank fuck that was easy enough to do. “I was at Midnight. Security camera footage should corroborate that, and Kari was there as well if you need to check with her.”
Max waved a hand at me. “That’s fine. I just need to know that there’s evidence to back up your statement should anyone ask.” He crossed his arms. “We know it wasn’t Zane. And the fact that they used Blue Alhuirn to poison him seems too much of a coincidence to believe it’s not all connected.”
“Why kill him now, though? He’s been in custody for a few weeks, hasn’t he?”
“He has. But on Monday he asked to speak to someone regarding his case. Said he had new information if we offered him a deal.”
“So you think he was killed to prevent him talking?” I scrunched my nose. “Isn’t that a bit extreme for round here?”
Max’s expression hardened. “Refining and selling Blue Alhuirn is a serious crime and carries a hefty sentence if caught. And that’s if the case is tried over here. If the Fae High Court get their way, then the case will be tried in the Fae Realm and their punishments can include life imprisonment in a fae jail, or in the extreme case, death.” He tapped his knee. “I think that’s cause for someone to want Finch to keep his mouth shut, don’t you?”
I swallowed. “When you put it like that.” But alibi aside, I still failed to see why I was here. “What did you want to see me for then? If you don’t think I had anything to do with it, then I’m not sure what help I can be. You must have plenty of witches in the police force who could help with whatever it is you need.”
“We do. But CI Thornton is keen to keep those involved to a minimum. Not that anyone here is under suspicion, but whoever impersonated Mase knew enough about him to do a good job. Maybe Tombs talked about him to whoever he was working with. I don’t know. So for now, we’re not involving anyone else in this investigation, and that means I need your help.”
I shifted uncomfortably, fingers straying to worry at the edges of my cuff. “Help with what?”
