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"I don't need--"
"Yes, you do. Michael Kennedy is dead. Possibly murdered by the same killer you're tracking right now. You're running on fumes and you're going to screw up. You'll miss something. Or worse, you'll let your guard down. So get your ass back to that motel and sleep."
"Yes, sir."
"I'm serious, Savannah. Don't pull this shit. Not with me."
"I'm not, okay? You're right. I'm walking back to my motel. You can call my room in ten minutes and I'll be there."
"You'd better."
"I will."
WHEN I GOT to the motel, Jesse's truck was parked out front. I'd given him a key, so I rapped first. Inside, I could hear him talking on the phone.
"Right." Pause. "Right."
I used my key and quietly opened the door.
"She's here now. Do you want to--?" Pause. "Okay." Pause. "Bye."
Jesse hung up. "That was Adam wondering why I didn't call him about Detective Kennedy. I told him you could handle it, which seemed to be the wrong answer."
I tossed my bag onto the bed. "I should have let him know."
"I thought he wasn't supervising you."
"He's not. He just thinks I could have used a friend last night."
Jesse nodded, but I could tell he wasn't so sure that was why Adam was upset. Seeing his doubts made me wonder myself. Was I really in charge of this case? Or was Adam humoring me? No, he wouldn't do that. Not Adam.
A rap at the door. I glanced out the window to see the woman from the coffee shop, holding a bag.
"I didn't think anyplace around here delivered," Jesse said.
"No, but Adam does." I opened the door and stood in the gap. If she thought my boyfriend was sending me food, seeing Jesse in my room would not help my reputation around town.
"Special delivery?" I said.
She smiled. "Soup and a sandwich. He said to eat it, then get some sleep. That's an order."
Usually, I would have laughed at that. But I could feel the weight of Jesse's gaze on my back, and it didn't seem as funny.
I took the bag. When I closed the door, I waited for Jesse to say something. He didn't. He wasn't that kind of guy. But I saw the scenario through his eyes, and what would have been a sweet gesture seemed a little condescending, like I couldn't be trusted to take care of myself.
"That was nice of Adam," Jesse said finally.
There was no sarcasm in his voice, but my already tender stomach gave an extra twist.
"I'm not really hungry," I said. "Do you want it?"
He shook his head. "No, you should eat." He gave a short laugh. "Sorry. I don't mean to mother you, too. I mean--" He cleared his throat. "I'll go get a room. You can rest if you want. I'll catch up with you later."
I NEEDED TO rest, and refusing just because Adam had insisted would be childish. So I set the alarm, laid down, and was asleep in minutes.
I dreamed that I was back in that warehouse, only this time Michael was there, lying on the floor, hurt, and I couldn't find him. I could hear him moaning, the sounds growing softer, slower, his life slipping away, and I yelled for him and I cast spell after spell after spell, but they were useless. I was useless, racing around helpless, no idea where he was.
"Shhh," a voice whispered. "Shhh. It's okay."
