Surprise touches her eyes. She recovers and sets her mouth. “Knock it off, counselor.”
“I apologize. Like I said, it has been a while.” Fergus turns to Ashner. “You look like you need a nap.”
I keep my expression flat and my breathing even. Control is a habit.
Caldwell smiles. “I’ve heard rumors of a missile attack and a firefight in the middle of my town, right around Malice Media’s headquarters, but you know what? There are no police reports. Do you find that odd?”
“Sure do,” I agree. “You can’t believe rumors, Detective.”
Her brow wrinkles. I have more power in this world, and she doesn’t understand. That makes her likeable.
A soft knock lands on the door, and Ashner crosses to it. What now? He opens it, leans into a whisper with someone in the hall, then comes back with a smile he almost hides.
I keep my pulse even. Cheerful news for him is bad news for me, most likely.
The latch clicks as the door seals. Chair legs scrape somewhere down the corridor and fade. “The cadaver dogs earned their steaks today. We found a body,” Ashner says, not looking so tired now.
“Are you serious?” Fergus shakes his head.
“Yep. Found the body of Horace Whimple on your property out by the ocean. Buried about seven feet down. Just seven,” Ashner says. He adjusts his belt and squares to me, pleased with himself.
I keep my face neutral. “Somebody was in a hurry.” I look to Caldwell. “Before you ask, no, I didn’t kill him. I don’t know who did, and I don’t know how he ended up on my property.”
One of her eyebrows arches, and suspicion fills her eyes. Does she believe me? I think so. Not because I’m trustworthy but because I wouldn’t be that stupid.
Ashner clears his throat. “Maybe you’re paving the way for your girlfriend so she can retake TimeGem Moments. That tracks for you, doesn’t it?”
It tracks. I don’t hand that to him. “I wouldn’t put a body on my land. Besides, Horace Whimple doesn’t own any of TimeGem Moments.”
“You’re wrong,” Ashner replies. “He owns ten percent.”
I didn’t know that, so the fact isn’t public.
Fergus shifts beside me, and his chair gives a quick squeal.
“You don’t really rely on public records, do you?” Caldwell asks. She flips a page in her notebook. “If there was an agreement in place, even one kept from those of us who aren’t billionaires, you’d have known.”
“I didn’t know about this,” I say. “What documentation do you have?”
“We don’t need to share that with you right now,” Ashner says. He drags a chair two inches and parks on it. “You have motive and opportunity to kill Whimple, and the body was found on your property. Tell us the truth.”
“I have,” I say.
Fergus gives one small shake of his head and sets a legal pad square to the table edge. “Who’s your witness?”
“We don’t need to tell you that,” Ashner replies.
That means the tip is anonymous.
Fergus meets my eyes and nods once. “An anonymous tip like that won’t hold up in court and you know it,”he says. “I’m not even sure it gives you probable cause. Did you have anything else before you searched the property?”
Caldwell steeples her fingers and lets the question hang. A door shuts somewhere beyond the wall. I lace my fingers together and rest them on the table so they do not move. The mirror gives me my own posture and nothing else. Ashner rolls his shoulders and tries for weight.
I let the pause work for me. Control is habit. If they had more, they’d have led with it. I count three slow breaths and hold her gaze. The room waits for their next card, and I let them deal it.
“We had probable cause, as I said,” Ashner says.
“I don’t know about that.” I’m done with this. “You had an anonymous source who made an accusation. With that, you got a warrant to search an entire piece of land way outside of town?”
