Page 41

Iget it now.

I get why Edge claimed Steel’s got a boner for Detective Reyes.

She’s fifty apparently. Her birthday was mentioned in the newspaper a few months back, because that’s the kind of stuff that’s worth reporting on in Helena. She’s the kind of fifty that looks thirty-five. She’s blonde with dark roots, most of her wavy hair is pulled back into a practical bun except for a strand that coils down past one eye. No makeup except for some tinted lip gloss or something turning her lips a shade or two brighter. Sure, she’s smokin’, but she also looks like she can kick ass.

When we came in dragging Jake Randy and asking to speak with her, she listened. Then, she sent Jake with a different officer to be placed in holding before taking me, Edge, and Steel to a private room to make us go through our story again. There’s a cam in the room recording us, but she also types notes on her laptop the whole time. She asks to-the-point clarifying questions while staring over the upper edge of her laptop with those eyes that could wring a confession from an innocent man.

Steel does most of the talking, occasionally backed up by Edge. I keep my mouth shut and try not to draw Reyes’ attention to me. I don’t like being in the police station at all.

The Prez and VP definitely feel the same way. There’s a lot of uneasy shifting and sideways glances in this packed interrogation room. A lot of the cops don’t like the Steel Riders. The few who are on our side tend to stay quiet around their buddies or else draw unwanted attention.

Detective Reyes sits back and closes her laptop. She folds her hands on the table and studies us. “It’s not that I don’t believe your story,” she begins.

“Oh, good lord.” I roll my eyes. “Spare the preamble and just say you aren’t gonna help us.”

Steel spins in his chair, the plastic squeaking and groaning under his weight, and whacks me one on the shoulder. It doesn’t hurt. I’d whack him back if Reyes wasn’t there. Not a good idea for a recently released inmate to punch someone else in front of a cop.

“Ignore him,” Steel growls. “He’s always been a bit braindead.”

“Mm, he’s just frustrated. I get it.” Detective Reyes shakes her head. The three of us look at her in surprise. What, she’s on my side? For real?

“I do believe you,” Reyes says, “and I hate that this is happening in our town. Unfortunately, there’s not much I can do yet. You’re acting as a third party, reporting on this for the actual victim of the crimes. I can’t start an investigation based on that. Mrs. Quinn would have to come in herself. There’s also the fact that the man you brought me has clearly been, shall we say, convinced to speak? We’ve been trying to find him to arrest him for some robberies, so he’ll be staying here for some time and maybe he’ll talk… but also maybe he won’t. Whatever he says will have to be verified through conversations with Mrs. Quinn.”

“Since Julia doesn’t want to come in and testify, there’s no basis for an actual investigation.” Steel thumps a fist on the table between us and Reyes, a scarred thing that’s probably seen plenty worse beatings. “You can’t do anything for us, Detective? Come on.”

“I’m sympathetic, I really am. I know you’re trying to do the right thing.” Reyes pats her closed laptop. “I can’t open an investigation, but I can file a report. Won’t be able to do anything with it, but if there’s anything else that happens, it’ll lend credence to the situation. It’s the start of a record that can be built on as necessary.”

A record. All of this and all that we get is a record.

My hands clench in my lap. I look at the door, my lungs suddenly aching for a breath of fresh air. I want to get out of this stuffy room that holds too many bad memories.

I want to be doing something instead of being told I can’t do anything.

“I can also suggest some extra patrols in the area,” Detective Reyes offers.

“We’ve already got eyes on Julia’s house!” I burst out. I half-rise. Steel’s hand on my shoulder forces me back down. I just can’t shut up, though. “What’s the point of coming here? What are you doing that we can’t do ourselves? Nothin’!”

The detective gives me a cool, unflappable look. “My hands are tied until you convince Mrs. Quinn to come in here herself to talk with me. I’m bound by the law. I know you have little respect for the law, Mr. Walters, but it is my life and purpose.”

The blood in my veins turns to fire at the use of my real name. I am not Scott Walters. I am Wolf.

“On a personal level, I want to break this wide open and tase the shit out of the people involved.” Reyes flicks her eyes to the camera observing us. “On a professional level, which is the level that matters here, I must repeat that my hands are tied. Any questions or should I see you out?”

Break the law, I want to tell her. You think because you’re a cop, you can’t break the law? It’s done all the time!

She’s too high and mighty for that, though. She’s not like other cops.

Bullshit.

I stand again and this time, Steel allows it. Detective Reyes opens the door for us, and we file out into the hall. She brushes past us, trailing a musky floral perfume, and leads the way past a few other interrogation rooms and offices. The others pull ahead of me while I drag my feet, growling low in my chest.

One of the doors I pass stands ajar. In my peripheral vision, I see two people standing in the room in front of a computer desk, their heads close together while they talk. Something inside me makes my steps falter. Plain nosiness, maybe, since it seems like quite the intimate little affair going on in there.

The first wears a black police uniform with a badge pinned to the chest, and not just any ordinary badge. It’s the Police Chief and I recognize him because he was Chief back when I got arrested, too. He’s put on weight since I last saw him and has shaved his head, his brown scalp gleaming under the harsh lights, but it’s still very much the same man.

The other man, I also recognize.

My vision turns red. My existence narrows down to the scene before me, cast in shades of blood.