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Nick called John and Sariel into a different room in the office area. Then he and Deveraux went and talked to them while Micah waited. A few minutes later the men returned and the sheriff spoke.
“They said you came home a bit after three, as you said. They also reported that you smelled of the outdoors, sex, and of a certain local female—not the murder victim. They would’ve scented blood on you, and there wasn’t any.”
“That’s because I’m telling the truth,” Micah said, tired.
“I believe you, but I’m going to test the car now just to rule it out. Once a question has been raised, it’s best to follow through.”
“I understand.” He did. It just sucked.
Deveraux slid a file off Nick’s desk and opened it, retrieving a few photos. “Do you recognize the woman in these pictures?”
Micah took them and studied them closely. The first two were of a smiling blond woman of about thirty-five, candid shots taken in front of a lake. The rest were of the murder scene, showing the poor woman’s gruesome demise. His stomach lurched, though he’d seen many atrocities in the last few years. It wasn’t something he thought he’d ever get used to.
“No, I’ve never seen her around before. Tourist?”
“Probably. She was camping alone, which is unusual. No ID, but it was likely stolen.”
“I hope you find her family, give them some closure. And the bastard who did that to her, too.”
“Thanks. Me, too.”
By the time he left, Deveraux seemed satisfied that Micah was not his perp, not that he’d ever really believed it deep down. But he had to follow up his lead on the car, and once Micah had gotten over the shock of being questioned, he couldn’t blame the man.
Micah was tired, but once that was over, there was no time to go back to his quarters and get more sleep. Worse, he was edgy, anxious. He hadn’t taken his nighttime dose of myst because of his date with Jacee, and he’d forgotten to take it when he got home before falling into bed. Now he was jonesing, bad.
Ducking around a corner, he held up his hands. They were shaking, his heart racing, and he felt as if he was on the verge of a panic attack. Quickly, he dug in his front pocket and extracted the bottle, removing one pill and dry-swallowing it. Just one. His morning dose, and not one pill more. He had to wean himself off or end up in that damn hospital room.
The dose took the edge off, but not nearly enough. The meeting about fighting groups of rogue vampires, demons, goblins, and such was almost more than he could stand. They’d fought those beasts a thousand times, and he couldn’t fathom why they had to talk every fucking thing to death.
“Why don’t we form a knitting club and have raffle baskets, too,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
“I’m sorry, what?” Nick’s voi
ce from the front of the conference room was irritated.
“Raffle baskets,” Micah said loudly. “Why don’t we have fuckin’ raffle baskets? It’ll make these meetings more fun! The women can bake cookies, too.”
What the fuck am I saying? Shoot me now!
“Hey, I don’t bake, asswipe,” his sister shot back. “Bake ’em yourself and we’ll eat ’em.”
Several of the team snickered, and he looked up to find Nick glaring. “Sorry, boss.”
“As I was saying . . . ,” Nick went on, shooting looks Micah’s way now and then.
Micah tuned him out anyway, because nothing short of a miracle was going to get him to pay attention today. He was a walking disaster, and struggling to hide it. When the meeting was over, he skipped training and went straight back to his quarters. He’d hear about it later, but he had to have more sleep.
As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out. His dreams were shadowy. Uneasy. He was searching everywhere, never quite finding what he was looking for. And something was stalking him. Remaining just out of sight, waiting for the chance to strike. Finally, at some point, the dreams quieted and he slept better.
A knocking noise woke him some time later. Squinting, he saw that it was past noon. He’d missed lunch, and he still wasn’t that hungry. He thought about not answering the door, but the determination of the person on the other side was greater than his will to ignore it. He answered.
And immediately wish he’d resisted. Rowan marched inside, and from the look on her face, this was not a conversation he wanted to have.
“Nick is seriously pissed at you.”
“What’s new lately?”
“You mouth off during the meeting and disrespect him in front of everyone? Then you have the gall not to show up for training? What’s wrong with you?”
