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Then I turn around and look at the room from here.

From the window, I can see Dez’s desk. Three steps away. The middle drawer is right there.

Whoever took that picture was close enough to touch it.

I take Dez’s envelope out of my back pocket. It was taped underneath with two strips of yellow tape.

There were two more strips beside it.

Torn.

Something else was taped under that drawer.

And somebody took it.

Chapter thirteen

Tara

By ten-thirty on Friday night, it feels like I’ve made a hundred drinks and I love every one of them.

The main bar is three deep. There's a troll at the end who needs two stools and has asked very politely for a third. There's a harpy on the brass foot rail, perched instead of standing, with her talons wrapped around it and her wings folded tight so she doesn't knock anybody's drink over, and she wants a dirty martini with six olives and she wants to watch me spear them. There's a werewolf in a very good suit trying to tap his card on the payment screen with a claw, and the screen keeps reading it as two fingers and opening the tip menu.

"Just hand it to me," I tell him, and he does, looking relieved.

The phone behind the bar rings, which almost never happens. Members text Corinne. People who aren't members generally don't have the number.

I tuck the receiver against my shoulder and keep pouring.

"Monster Club."

"Hi! Hi. Okay. Is this the Monster Club?"

"That's what I said."

"Right. Sorry. You said it really fast." It's a man, young-sounding and a little out of breath. "This is Daron. We had an invitation. To the Summer Solstice thing? Black envelope, silver letters, lower floor access included."

"Okay."

"We didn't make it."

"Okay," I say again.

"We were packed and ready. I packed on Monday. For everybody. The truck was running in the driveway. Jen had the dress on, and it was a good dress, and then—"

I look at the line of customers waiting for drinks. Kit catches my eye and waves me toward the service end of the bar. I finish the two cocktails in front of me and step aside so she can take over.

He stops.

In the background, somebody says his name in a low, warning voice.

"And then we had a situation."

"What kind of situation?"

A pause. A muffled argument. The phone changes hands.

"This is Dean." Older. Calmer. The voice of a guy who's been cleaning up after Daron for a long time. "We had some trouble on the road that night. The kind that follows you home. We dealt with it. Everybody's fine. But it took until morning, and by then your party was over."