“Withdrawit?” Jamey repeated. “She made her name campaigning on a platform of protecting the public from empathy.”
“I have a good hunch she was weakening.” Grayson lowered his voice to the barest whisper. “I assume you got other things to investigate.”
She heard Reece put on his turn signal in the background in ignorance, Grayson’s voice too quiet for his ears. But Grayson had known she’d be able to hear it. Interesting. What else did Grayson know about her? “I’m looking into the suspect too.”
“Keep me posted.” Grayson cut the call.
Jamey rolled the phone in her hand for a moment.
Keepmeposted. Notus.
How long could they possibly keep the suspect’s identity from Reece? It had to only be a matter of time before he put it together that there were only two empaths in Seattle, and if he wasn’t pegged for the crime, the other one was.
She tucked the phone away and headed for the receptionist’s desk. A pale woman with her hair in a bun lifted her head as she approached. “Can I help—”
Jamey held up her badge. “You’re expecting me.”
“Oh!” The woman’s hands fluttered. “Yes, of course. The detective who wants to talk to anyone who met with Senator Hathaway yesterday.” The woman shook her head. “Her death is so shocking.”
And this woman didn’t know the half of it. “I assume neither Dr. Camden nor Cora Falcon are here?”
“Well, it’s as I told the police department this morning,” said the receptionist. “They both put in for emergency leave around midnight.”
As she told the police department—except this was the first Jamey was hearing of it. All theactualpolice had been pulled off the case, so who had the receptionist talked to? Stone Solutions? The Empath Initiative?
Frowning, Jamey leaned on the desk. “Can you find me someone to talk to?”
The receptionist pursed her lips and scanned her computer screen. “Dr. Jones might know something. I believe he’s also against the anti-empathy bill. I’ll page him. You can wait in his office.”
Dr. Demarco Jones’ office was closet-sized but cheerful, decorated with pictures of three young kids with ringlet curls like Jamey’s. It took eight minutes for Dr. Jones himself to join her.
“Sorry, Detective St. James.” An attractive middle-aged man with russet-brown skin and salt-and-pepper hair, Dr. Jones was wringing his hands and shaking his head. “We’re all juggling extra patients today.”
“Because Dr. Camden isn’t in?” Jamey prompted.
Dr. Jones nodded. “Not that I begrudge him.”
“So you know the reason he and Cora took emergency leave?”
Dr. Jones hesitated. “I still don’t understand why the police want to know that. What do John and Cora have to do with anything?”
“We know Senator Hathaway was here yesterday,” she said. “We’re following every lead we can.” Not even a lie. Reece would like that.
He bit his lip. “I guess it can’t hurt to tell you. They texted several of us around midnight. They eloped.”
“Eloped?”
“Drove off to Vegas in the middle of the night.”
Vegas was more than sixteen hours by car, and if they paid for everything with cash, they’d be untraceable. What a convenient explanation for suddenly being missing. “Is the elopement a surprise?”
“Huge surprise. They were planning a big wedding for June, long honeymoon, all of it,” said Dr. Jones. “But then, I can’t blame John for wanting to get Cora out of town with how nasty the press is turning on empaths.”
“Because of Hathaway,” said Jamey, hoping to prompt him again.
“Shocking business,” he said, with a shake of his head. “I’m against the bill myself. It goes way too far, and I can’t imagine losing Cora. But Hathaway’s death is still a horrible tragedy.”
Grayson’s tip in mind, Jamey asked, “I understand some of the staff were trying to persuade the senator to withdraw the bill. Any luck?”
