Page 77 of Suspicions on the Stage
Kowalski looks down his nose at me, a feat considering he’s half a foot shorter. “Until I get a cause of death, I’m not taking chances.” He glances at Jackson, who’s already on his feet. “You need John, too, counselor?”
Jackson gives him a toothy, leonine smile. “Might as well. If you’re this worried about their bladder control, I’m even more curious about the state’s case.”
The detective grunts and slumps into a seat, immediately scrolling through his phone with the intense focus of someoneavoiding eye contact with reality. Dr. Balor is already back at the body, muttering orders to her team in a sibilant whisper. I see the hellhound assistant slinking up the aisle, shooting a dirty look at Iggy before vanishing into the corridor.
For a second, I envy the certainty of everyone who still thinks this is a normal day in academia.
Channing leans over, voice low. “You want me to tail them? Make sure that guy doesn't try to talk to them?”
I shake my head. “Jackson’s got it.”
Kaspar, who has been staring at the detective with unblinking intensity, finally says, “You realize, if they had actual evidence, those two would be in holding cells right now. You need to breathe, Morgana.”
“That’s what you all keep saying.”
There’s a long lull where the only sound is the distant echo of water pipes and the click of heels as Balor’s people work. After a minute, Channing slides her phone across the armrest. On the screen is a message from Kendrick: Found it. Hallway behind the orchestra pit. Looks like a plant.
Are they fucking kidding me with this shit?
I don’t have time to parse it before the sergeant returns with Lucas and Slade in tow, Jackson trailing behind and talking over his shoulder. “—and if you want to make this official, you know my client has a right to leave, unless you’re charging him.”
The sergeant barely glances at him. “I think we’re done here for now.”
“They’re letting us go,” Lucas says, as he comes up to us. He looks like he’s aged ten years in as many minutes.
“Unless they change their minds,” Slade says.
I frown. The message from Kendrick seemed to indicate that we were in for a very long night at the station. What changed?
Jackson returns to our little huddle, arms crossed. “They’re rattled. Whatever Balor’s team found, it’s not what they were expecting. Rain is following up because Kendrick is on… the other thing.”
“Do you think what he did was enough?” Channing asks.
Jackson shrugs. “Depends if the detective is more scared of the truth or his own boss.”
I look at the stage again, at the empty shape of a man who’s not coming back to explain himself. The next move is ours, but for the first time all day, it feels like maybe the board isn’t tilted entirely against us.
However, if it is… there are worse people to fight the system with.
put a woman in charge
SLADE
Morgana is next to me as we walk up the aisle, her knuckles white as she clutches her phone. I can almost hear her internal fury in the way she grinds her jaw. That sound is her version of a frustrated growl, which is better than mine, because the siren in me wants to break glass.
And I don’t access the rage from it very often.
“We’re leaving,” Liam announces as we reach the doors, and the force of his voice peels my mind back from the brink. He says it not to me, but to some gray-faced officer who’s blocking the exit with one of those ‘don’t try anything’ arms. “Get out of the way or face the wrath of my Court and their attorney.”
I guess since the two of us are some flavor of suspect, the guy feels like he should put up a fight. However, Jackson’s lawyer pheromones have already saturated the halls of this building, so the quiet sergeant motions for the officer to do as he says. The hush of rubber-soled feet on the tiled floor is louder than it should be as Liam steers Morgana and me past the officer, and out toward the early-winter night.
Part of me wishes I could say something clever or do anything but frown, but the toll that room bursting with emotions took on me is worse than I thought.
It must show on my face because as soon as we’re in the parking lot, Morgana stops and pulls me close. She’s so much taller than I am, but her arms hold me tightly with that ‘don’t argue with me’ energy that makes her feel safe. If this were any other night, I’d let myself melt into it, and maybe even flirt a little. But tonight, I need the comfort because my body is so tense you’d think she’s patting me down for weapons.
“We’re going home,” she whispers. “This day sucked ass, and you and Lucas need to unwind from that bullshit.”
The prince opens the car door for me—which is weird to experience—and I slide into the back seat, pressing my knees against the upholstery. Morgana gets in next to me, scooting close enough that our thighs are pressed against one another. Liam just smiles, rounding his SUV to get in the driver’s seat.
