Page 16 of Heartsong
Swallowing hard, Anna schooled her face into vague concern. She’d perfected theNo, I don’t know anything, officerroutine after years of her mom refusing to press charges against her sometimes thieving, sometimes abusive, always crappy boyfriends.
Keep it brief, keep it simple.
And keep your job,she added. Because, as her mom had so helpfully pointed out when she was eighteen, Anna was too chubby to be a stripper. And now likely too old.
Her footsteps were deafening as she crossed to the small group, and she realized why only when she stopped at the side of her desk. The soothing cadence of the water feature was missing, the rippling flow having been turned off. In fact, all the lights were off, giving the slate-gray stone of the museum lobby a distinctly cavernous feel.
“Oh, Anna, I’m so relieved to see you.” Carrie broke the circle she and the others had made to approach her, reaching out to grasp and squeeze her hands.
“I’m so sorry this happened,” Anna said.
“No, we’re sorry.”
“We thought this building was secure,” said Gavin.
Anna tried not to gulp at the forbidding set of his hauntingly beautiful face. Tall and muscled, Gavin Gwyneth had a refined male beauty that felt more suited to bygone eras. Anna had nearly choked on her coffee when she heard he’d had a career as a historian and archaeologist rather than an Armani model. Just like his wife, he could have been thirty or fifty, with severe cheekbones and a pin-straight nose. At first she’d thought his hair, cropped close at the bottom but longer and pushed away from his handsome face in an elegant sweep, prematurely gray, but it was actually the palest blonde.
She knew the luck, wealth, and beauty distribution system wasn’t fair, but damn.
Still, he was the kind of handsome that seemed to repel rather than attract. She’d never seen an employee or patron fawn over him, even though all the staff agreed he was the prettiest man they’d ever seen in real life. He’d never shown up with a pretty young thing hanging on his arm, only ever alone or with his wife. He was more often in immaculately tailored tweed or sweaters than flashy suits, and he drove a luxury but otherwise nondescript sedan. So much about him just seemed unreal.
Like a lightning bolt, sudden and sizzling, Frey’s words zinged through her.
Fae magick.
Fae.
No no no, she wouldn’t let the mythical monster in her apartment get to her—even if her heart gave a suspicious lurch remembering the sight of him turning back to stone.
Don’t think about it. Don’t ask questions.
Asking questions just brought trouble. Poking around where she wasn’t wanted and wasn’t supposed to be only ever broughtconsequences.
Still, the only reason she didn’t quake in fear under the intense stare of Gavin Gwyneth was that his anger didn’t seem to be for her. The policemen shuffled their feet, as if the breach in the museum’s security was somehow their fault.
“Like I said, Mr. Gwyneth,” said the detective, “unfortunately thieves are getting high tech. For every advance in security, there’s always someone on the back end making double selling a way in.”
Gavin’s nostrils flared slightly with an unhappy huff, and if possible, his brows lowered even more.
Carrie patted Anna’s hand, drawing her into the loose circle the group made.
“This is Miss Anna Kincaid, she was on duty last night.” Carrie’s eyes were full of guilt when she looked at Anna, saying, “I’m so sorry. Never again, Anna.”
All she could do was shake her head, unprepared for the devastation Carrie seemed to feel.
“I’ll do everything I can to help.”
“I’m Detective Ramirez. I’ll be leading this case.”
She met and held the gaze of the detective, who gave her an assessing look before diving into initial questions. Anna went through her night, from eating takeout to June arriving exactly at seven. She walked them through the gallery tour, then how the room had filled with gas.
Here goes.
“There was something in it. I felt woozy almost immediately, like I was swimming through the air. I pushed June toward the next hallway. I fell and lost my things. I don’t remember much after that—I think I stumbled outside and I…I must have gone into autopilot and walked home.”
“You made it home last night?”
“Yes.”
