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This attack happened while I killed time in the tavern. The woman left before me.

Could she be the murderer?

I study the other occupant, who’s on her knees among the papers with a satchel clutched to her chest. When I entered, shock creased her brow for a split second before her expression smoothed into the calculating mask she currently wears.

No blood on her clothes, hands, or hair, and based on the mess dripping down the wall, I doubt she could avoid it if she were the culprit. She didn’t have enough time to clean up, nor does she seem strong enough to upend that huge desk. Though I know all too well that appearances can be deceiving.

Judging by the tidy state of her clothing, she must have arrived after the fact. But why is she here? If she’s innocent, why isn’t she freaking out instead of kneeling in the debris and tidying up?

Another possibility strikes me.

Just because I saw her an hour ago at the tavern doesn’t mean she wasn’t here earlier. She could have killed my contact, hauled the body away, gone to the tavern to wash up and change clothes, and then returned. I wonder if I “saved” her from that inebriated jackass right after she disposed of the body.

I venture farther inside. “Didn’t expect to meet you here.”

She rises, a flush creeping up her neck as she crams papers deeper into her satchel. “I didn’t do anything.”

I raise an eyebrow and gesture at the chaos around us. “Right. You just happened to be here. In a blood-spattered room that’s been tossed.”

“I came to pick something up. From a…friend.”

The slight hesitation before “friend” suggests she’s lying.

The discovery that my one lead evaporated and I’m left only with this woman who can’t lie to save her life should anger me. Instead, interest sizzles along my spine.

I brace myself against the doorframe. “Who was your friend? And what were you picking up?”

She scowls. “That’s none of your concern.”

Her defiance reminds me of the capable way she handled herself with the drunk guy in the pub. She may or may not have committed murder tonight, but she’s guilty of something.

“Everything in this room is my business now.” I drop the friendly tone and rest my hand on the dagger at my waist. Her eyes widen, and so does my smile. “My contact is gone. And here you are, right where I’m supposed to meet them, not batting an eye at the obvious murder scene while you scavenge the remains. You didn’t even call the authorities.”

That grabs her attention.

“You must not have been in Meridia for very long. The authorities aren’t exactly the friendly sort.” Her eyes narrow. “Anyway, your emergency isn’t my problem.”

I crowd her, using my height to loom over her diminutive frame. Sparks seem to dance across the space between us, enticing me to draw closer. “I’m making it your problem, princess.”

She startles. “Don’t call me that.” Shifting her weight, she angles herself toward the window.

Three stories is a long drop without wings or wind magic, but for all I know, she could have both. This woman’s been full of surprises tonight. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t like it.”

“How about this.” I prowl toward her, herding her toward the window. “How about you tell me what exactly happened. If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll even let you walk away with whatever you stole.”

“I don’t know anything, and I sure as hells didn’t steal anything.” Again, her chin ratchets up, and anger radiates from her every pore. “I’m leaving now.”

“Go ahead. See what happens if you try to escape. I’ll catch you before you even have a chance to scream.”

She scoffs. “I’m not much of a screamer, not that you’ll ever have the pleasure of discovering that.”

A reply escapes before I can stop it. “Is that a challenge?”

Her eyebrows draw together. “What do you me…oh my gods!” Pink blooms in her cheeks. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

For some reason, flustering this mystery woman brings me a ridiculous amount of satisfaction. I haven’t had this much fun in ages.