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“Public indecency is a misdemeanor, but none of her stunts involved minors, so she received community service.” Sharpe’s lips tighten at his clear displeasure at such a light punishment. “It’s annoying, but she needed therapy, not prison.”
“But she had so many misdemeanors.” Flint waves his arms for emphasis. “Surely a judge would have sentenced her the fourth or fifth time, or the tenth or twentieth.”
I wad up a ball of paper and throw it at him. “Just get to the point, pretty boy.”
“This—” he gestures to the image on the wall. “This is not Vicki Brown.”
Pen’s fingers tap against her thigh, her patience wearing thin. “Then who is it?”
“I would like to introduce you to Victoria Shawe, estranged daughter of Reverend Shawe.” Puffing up with pride, he beams at us.
“Bullshit.” Meredith hunches over her keyboard. “I would have seen that in her records.”
“Not if her father is rich enough to bribe a judge, doctor her birth certificate, and make Victoria Shawe vanish.” Flint digs through his books and holds up a slender, decade-old volume from West Glover High School. “But the good reverend forgot her yearbook. In this case, print doesn’t lie.”
Sharpe strides over and snatches it from his hands. “How did you find this?”
“A teacher at the Conservatory recognized Vicki’s picture in the news. They went to school together, and he had the yearbook in his dorm room.” Flint opens the book to an earmarked page. “He remembered her because she vanished in the middle of their sophomore year, and conspiracy theories abounded about her dying. Her ghost apparently haunts the boys’ locker room.”
“That tracks with her personality,” I drawl.
Sharpe smooths a hand down the spine. “So Vicki is our link.”
“And I don’t know about you, but a judge who takes bribes from the Church of Humanity sounds greedy to me.” Pen stands and joins Meredith. “Think you can figure out who it is?”
“Money leaves trails, and so do people.” Meredith swivels in her chair, typing furiously. “I’ll work this backward and forward until I find him.”
“Dig up anyone else that is linked to Vicki, while you’re at it.” Sharpe snaps the yearbook closed. “It’s going to be a long list, and a lot of them are going to fit the sin profile.”
Meredith doesn’t look up. “On it.”
I look at Sharpe. “Clocks ticking on the next death. What can we do in the meantime?”
“You and Darius stay here with Flint and Meredith.” He drops the yearbook on top of the stack of other books. “Find out anything you can about the eclipse and the Wild Hunt. Come up with a backup plan in case we can’t stop the murders.”
“Oh, goody. Research.” I grab one book. “What will you and Pen be doing?”
“We can’t leave the city in the dark about this. And we can’t let Bailey and Chief Lynch spin it to make us into the bad guys. We need to get ahead of this.” He pulls out his phone. “So, I’m going to call a press conference. It’s time to reveal the truth about these deaths and ask for the public’s help in locating targets.”
“You’re going to create chaos in Clearhelm.” Flint flops into the chair beside me and takes my book. “Meredith, bring up a news feed so we can all watch.”
call the press
- Sharpe -
The sun beats down on my head as I walk onto the impromptu podium erected in the center of the entrance to the Bone Yard. The stage butts right up to the line that separates the demon-owned city without crossing over into human jurisdiction.
Reporters mill around the sidewalk, cameras and microphones at the ready, with one pale blond woman I personally invited standing in the VIP section at the front.
I walk to the single microphone, Pen hovering at my back, her eyes on the growing crowd. An audience of curiosity seekers had gathered, and while they’re benign at the moment, they could shift into a violent mob in a heartbeat.
Behind me, I feel the eyes of hundreds of demons watching, curious to hear what information their Bone Guard will convey to the humans.
A sense of anticipation pulses through those assembled. It’s the first time I’ve addressed the press since the JTFPI shut down. Nerves prickle in my palms, but I take a deep breath, steadying myself. This won’t help the tension between us and the Clearhelm Police, but then again, nothing will improve while Bailey’s in power.
“Thank you all for coming.” The microphone carries my voice out over the crowd, loud enough to reach the farthest corners of those gathered, and a hush falls. “I called this press conference to address a recent tragedy that rocked the Yard. This morning, the body of one of our residents was found brutally mauled.”
A restless murmur rises, confusion and uncertainty mixing together. They recognize the wording from their news report of Reverend Shawe.
