Even though they could lie, some fae liked to play such word games. The one thing they couldn’t do was get out of their word if they made a promise.
I hated when I missed such subtleties. People should simply say what they mean. “What happened after he called you out?”
“He claimed to be collecting something for a friend, but didn’t mention what. Following that, we strolled along the beach and got ice cream, continuing our conversation until almost 10:00 p.m.”
“The news said the murder occurred between 7:30 and 9:00.”
“That’s right. So you see? It wasn’t George.”
Lizzy had been with George during the attack. A better excuse than that was hard to imagine. Besides, I’d suspected him of being a vampire, anyway. That maybe he’d hid the attack behind the full moon to avoid suspicion. With the new DNA results, that couldn’t be the case.
“And what about your concern about it being a close associate?”
“I interviewed him under the pretense of learning more about the leader of The Grey Doors, George’s band,” she said. “After spending some more time with him, I discovered… well, let's just say he doesn’t run with that kind of pack.”
Her words, though vague, almost confirmed my suspicions. George was most likely a vampire and Lizzy was covering for him.
She cast me a curious glance. “How did you know George encountered Isabella that night, anyway?”
I recalled the journal safely within my bag. “It doesn’t matter. You’re right, it wasn’t him.”
Her lips pressed, but then she glanced down. “I… also wanted to apologize for getting upset with you.” She looked up. “Our family is complicated, as you know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to hang out with you. I want you to understand that you can drop by anytime.”
A smile spread across my face. “I can be rather difficult to get along with at times.”
Lizzy’s lips twitched. “So can I, it seems.”
I sat on the bed next to Lizzy and sighed. George Wickham wasn’t the culprit. That left Pastor Collins, a wild nephew, and a bunch of unnamed werewolves I couldn’t locate.
I looked at her phone that Duchess had been pawing at for the last minute, remembering that Mom had given Collins my sister’s number. He must have contacted her by now. “If you want to make it up to me, perhaps you can help me with one more tiny project.”
Relief flashed across Lizzy’s face. “Of course. What is it?”
“It has to do with Pastor Collins.”
She frowned. “What is it?”
“We need a reason to pay him a brief visit at his home.”
Chapter 11
“Ican’tbelieveI’mdoing this,” Lizzy muttered the following day as she drove.
“Isn’t finding leads for your next big article what you’re about?” I asked from the passenger seat.
Her eyes narrowed. “And what are you about, sister? Why do you care so much who killed Isabella?”
I couldn’t tell her Frank was a werewolf.Give her what she thinks I should say.I shrugged. “It's so tragic. A young woman murdered by a werewolf? Until we catch such a wildly dangerous creature, are any of us safe?”
Her eyes narrowed further, to the point that I worried about her seeing the road. “And why do you suspect Pastor Collins?”
“I told you, he lives on the side of Fairwood Forest, and he has a wound on his arm.”
“So you believe that makes him, what? A werewolf?”
“No.” Then again, possibly he was now. That would be poetic justice after all the sermons he’d given and continued to give after Isabella’s death. “I think his nephew could be a werewolf, and he’s hiding it.”
She made a surprised noise in her throat. “What makes you suspect that?”
