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I wasn’t really surprised she knew me by sight. There weren’t any other women with crimson hair in Castle Rock, as far as I was aware. “I need to talk to Ranger O’Connor.”
“He’s not available at the moment, but if it’s important, Ranger Sinclair can see you.”
“The definition of importance,” I said, with a slight edge, “would depend greatly on whether you believe a psychic whose dreams sometimes foreshadow dire events can hold any truth or not.”
“Ah,” she said, with a slight blink. “Hold on a moment, and I’ll go talk to Tala.”
Tala had taken over the investigation into Karen’s death when Aiden had escorted me back to the station, if I remembered correctly. I leaned on the counter and watched the dark-haired wolf disappear into the corridor that led to the cells and the interview room. After a few moments, she returned. Behind her was a dark-skinned woman who was about my height but—if the wisps of silver in her black hair were anything to go by—at least twelve years older.
“Ms. Grace,” she said, her voice holding little in the way of inflection. “You have some information regarding Karen’s murder?”
“I have. Whether you believe it or not is entirely up to you.”
“Any information regarding a murder is treated seriously, no matter what the source.” She buzzed open the secure door. “The desk to your far left, please.”
I walked over and sat down. She claimed her seat on the other side of the desk and then took out a notebook. “Right,” she said, pen hovering above a blank page. “Tell me what you have.”
“The vampire is hiding in an old miners cottage.” I described everything I’d seen—the wingtip shoes included—and then added, “Karen will not be his only kill if he’s not caught quickly.”
She paused writing and met my gaze. “Why would you think that? Vampires usually space out their kills by a week, if not more.”
“I know, but I think the only rules this vampire is living by are his own.”
“Again, what makes you think that? The dream?”
“Instinct.” I forced a smile. “There’s something stranger going on here. It’s not just about the kill or a simple need for blood.”
“What do you think it might be about, then?”
“When I find out, I’ll let you know.”
She stopped writing again. “If we discover that you are, in any way, interfering with an ongoing investigation—”
“Marjorie Banks has hired me to find the killer.” It was pointless hiding the fact, given Marjorie was likely to mention it the next time they saw her. “And you can’t actually stop me from doing that—especially if I’m not impeding your investigations in any way.”
“This is a werewolf reservation,” she said curtly. “The rules that apply on the outside do not apply here.”
“Then I’ll sit back and wait for the IIT to appear,” I said. “They’re certainly more receptive of help from psychics and witches—”
“The latter of which you claim not to be.”
“I’m a charm maker. That’s not a particularly strong form of magic in anyone’s books.”
“Mere charm makers cannot command ghost candles.”
If they knew that, it meant they’d been checking up on just what a lowborn witch could and couldn’t do. And that, in turn, undoubtedly meant they’d also been checking into my b
ackground. While that wasn’t unexpected, a too thorough search might just throw up more questions than answers. “They can in areas where wild magic exists, and I’m sure you’re aware that Castle Rock has an abundance of such magic.”
She grunted and made another note. Whether she in any way believed what I was saying, I couldn’t tell. I might have gotten a whole lot of unwanted information about Aiden, but instinct was giving me zip when it came to this woman.
“Anything else?” she asked.
I hesitated. It was pointless mentioning the river of blood, but that wasn’t the only other thing I’d dreamed about.
“Where is Karen’s body currently being held?”
She frowned. “In the morgue, of course. Why?”
