Page 2 of Ashes and Lilies
“Haven’t I told you to stop bringing your fans?” he asked Damen. He spoke fast, making it difficult for me to follow along. “We can’t afford any more distractions.”
Ah, so it was the latter. I was totally not surprised.
Damen frowned. “Sorry,” he responded, not sounding sorry at all. He draped his arm over my shoulders and led me toward the house. “What’s going on?”
Norman snapped his phone closed. “Bryce isn’t answering me!”
Why was he contacting Bryce? I was supposed to be first!
And of further note, the lack of professionalism from Bryce was appalling.
Damen glanced at me before addressing Norman. “Isn’t it a bit early in the investigation to need him?”
“Haven’t you been paying attention?” Norman’s brows were drawn together as he watched Damen. “This is Caleb Weaver’s house. He’s the victim.”
“What?” Damen’s impassive expression fell, and his fingers tightened around my shoulder. “How?”
It was evident that the victim was someone he knew.
“They’re claiming he’s committed suicide, and from what I can see, there’s nothing to indicate otherwise.” Norman pulled out a tiny memo pad and flipped through his notes. “One of his formerstudents—Michelle Nolan—found him a few hours after the estimated time of death. He never showed up to their reading group, so she did a welfare check. She claims he was hanging from the loft’s railings and she cut him down. But he was already dead.”
Damen’s shock turned to a scowl. “Why would she move the body?”
“She panicked and was hoping to help.” Norman shrugged. “So far, her story holds up. He has wounds consistent with hanging. You’ll get a copy of the coroner’s report later. They’ve already taken him to the morgue.”
“Erm…” I bit the tip of my thumb. It wasn’t my place to ask questions.
But what exactly was I supposed to be doing here?
With this, Norman was apparently no longer able to ignore me.
“All right.” He half-heartedly pointed the pad at me. “Who’s this then?”
The moody expression shifted from Damen’s features into nonchalance, and he reached into his jacket and pulled out his glasses.
“Norman,” Damen began in the way of introductions, “meet Bianca Brosnan. Bianca, this is Norman Peterson.” He cleaned the lenses with a little gray cloth. “Bianca is my assistant.”
Norman gasped and almost dropped his notes. “But I’m your assistant!”
Oh, dear.
I chewed my lip and watched Damen. Why would he incite him? Norman was high-strung enough.
I never wanted to be the reason someone didn’t have a job.
“Well, now I have two assistants.” Damen sounded bored. He started to say something else, but his attention moved over my head, and he put his glasses back on.
Someone must have called for him.
“Wait here,” he said, and before I could protest, he meandered away and left me alone with the extremely disgruntled man.
Norman wasted no time defending his claim. He stepped to my side, and I drew my shoulders up as he glared at me with striking, green eyes. “You.”
I shivered at the loathing in his voice. Me, what?
I couldn’t defeat him in battle. He might not have been as tall as Damen, but he was at least a head taller than me. Plus, I didn’t even want to fight.
I swallowed, but my mouth was dry. Even so, I responded with a pathetic, “What?”
