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Patrick hesitated. He even blinked a few times, as if a ray of sunshine might be manifesting in human shape, because that was a far more believable explanation than this--that there was a woman where there had been no one only moments ago.
Not just a woman, either, but a blonde in a white sundress.
No, he was seeing things. His imagination having fun with him.
The woman bent and touched her fingers to the gravestone. Patrick made his way toward her as silently as he could, loosening his glamour, his natural form better suited for sneaking across a green lawn.
He drew close enough to see the woman clearly. To make out her face. Her form. She was young, with straight blond hair and wore a sundress fifty years out of date. Her feet were bare, and she reminded him of the girls he'd toy with back when her sundress was fashionable--girls who'd found his looks particularly appealing, that whiff of the fae even in his glamour. He'd played that to full effect. The girls themselves had reminded him of some fae, ethereal, flighty and not-quite-there will-o'-the-wisps.
That alone drew him closer, even as he warned himself. When he focused his vision, he caught a telltale shimmer. It seemed not a fae's glow but a smudge to the young woman's edges. A feathering. A blurring.
He took one more step...and a twig cracked under his foot. She spun and stared at him.
Then she disappeared.
TEN
GABRIEL
Gabriel walked into Lambert's office, where the architect was shredding papers, the sound loud enough to cover Gabriel's entry. He slowed and approached offside to see what Lambert was shredding. While people had very good reasons for destroying papers, to a defense lawyer, it was always suspicious. But Lambert wasn't destroying anything. He appeared to be pushing blank pages into the machine, feeding them through one at a time, his gaze fixed out the window.
"I don't believe those require shredding," Gabriel said.
The architect gave a start. He stared, as if trying to place Gabriel, despite the fact he'd been there only hours before. And Gabriel had been told he was rather memorable.
"Those pages," Gabriel said. "Unless they're written in invisible ink, I don't believe they need to be destroyed."
Lambert turned the sheaf of papers over in his hand, giving them that same uncomprehending stare.
"I was...I need to..."
"Get back on track," Gabriel said.
"Yes."
"Because you're lost."
Lambert blinked. "What?"
"Never mind. I need you to do something for me." He took printed pages from his pocket. "I would like you to look at several photographs and tell me if you recognize anyone in connection with your encounter."
"Encounter..."
"With the hitchhiking young woman."
Lambert recoiled as if Gabriel had poked him with a cattle prod.
"I don't know her," Lambert said. "I'd never met her before, and I don't want anything to do with her. It was all a mistake. I love my wife. She's a wonderful--"
"Yes, yes, I'm sure she is. But as I may have said before, I am working to corroborate your story. I want to see justice done."
Meaningless babble, but it was enough--a reassurance that someone was on Lambert's side.
Gabriel unfolded the sheets. At Olivia's suggestion, he'd created a makeshift police lineup. He'd done this sort of thing with witnesses before, using websites where he could submit a scanned photo and search for similar ones. He'd chosen three and done some fiddling with Christina Moore's photograph so it wasn't as obviously out of date. Now he laid the four pictures in front of Lambert.
"Do any of these women look familiar?"
It took two sweeps. The first held that blank-eyed expression, Lambert still unfocused. But then he pulled himself together enough to do a proper scan, and his finger landed on the photograph of Christina Moore.
