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I sat back. “Right. That doesn’t make sense to me either.”
“Someone who wants to fuck with her,” Ryan said. “Get her off balance. Maybe someone with an ax to grind.”
Jill let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, god, if we have to track down everyone Kara has ever pissed off, we’re screwed.”
“Bitch,” I said and stuck my tongue out at her for good measure.
“You know it!” she said, eyes sparkling with humor.
“I have to say, though, it really is the perfect setup.” I grimaced. “Drug me with something that makes me do irrational shit, right when people around me start dying.”
Eilahn pursed her lips. “And it would have appeared far worse if not for the fact that most of your ‘irrational shit’ has been controlled by the cuff.”
I nodded. “But still, if they’re going after me—another summoner,” I said, musing, “—they have to figure the payoff is worth the risk.”
“Or they’re desperate enough to risk it,” Ryan added.
I tugged my hands through my hair as an uncomfortable thought occurred to me. I slid my eyes to Eilahn. “Are you able to assess for summoning ability?”
“That is not one of my skills,” she said, spreading her hands in apology.
Zack eyed me. “You have a suspect?”
I shifted in my chair, uncertain. “I’ll be shocked if he turns out to be a summoner, but…well, this ex-boyfriend of mine, Roman Hatch, lost his job at ESPN earlier this spring. He arrived here in town shortly before the first murder. In fact he found the body.”
Zack raised an eyebrow. “I think that qualifies him as a person of interest.”
“Right.” I cast my memory back over the conversation. “He also said he was staying in town a few extra days because one of his projects was taking longer than expected.”
Jill gave a smirk. “I think that’s what we in the biz call ‘a clue.’ ”
I nodded, smiled tightly. “I guess I’ll be summoning a demon to check him out tonight.”
“Cool!” Jill said, mischievous smile on her face. “We can have a demon summoning party!”
“Like hell!” I said, giving her a dark glower. She merely chuckled. My phone dinged and I dropped my eyes to it, expecting it to be from my aunt.
It wasn’t. “Shit,” I muttered as I read the text.
“What’s wrong?” Ryan asked.
“Chief wants to see me, ASAP.” I sighed. “Somehow I have a feeling he’s not calling me in to offer me a promotion.”
Chapter 15
Despite joking, my nerves were a frayed mess about being called in to talk to the chief. I had no doubt as to the reason, and I could only be deeply glad that I’d already spilled the beans to my sergeant.
I flashed a relaxed smile to the secretary in the chief’s outer office—even though I felt anything but relaxed—and tapped on his door frame. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
Chief Robert Turnham gave me a smile as he waved me in, but there was a tightness around his eyes that did nothing to ease the knot of worry in my gut. He’d recently decided to give in to his ever-retreating hairline and shave his head, but the combination of that with his dark skin, his height, and his gangly, thin limbs had him resembling one of the creatures from the movie Aliens. Though without the slavering teeth and poison blood and all that. He and I had always gotten along fairly well. He had a tendency to be dour and anal retentive, but he was a damn good cop with tons of experience, and he’d always treated me with respect.
But right now it was pretty obvious he was stressed and worried. Obviously something more was going on.
“Have a seat, Kara,” he said. I complied, doing my best to keep my expression even and calm. He’d had the walls painted in here, I noticed—a warm blue that matched the tones in the Beaulac PD seal on the wall behind his desk. The carpet had been updated too—a dark gray that that was a huge improvement over the bilious tan of its predecessor. The desk, chairs, and bookshelves were real wood now instead of metal, but nothing that looked like it cost and arm and a leg. Not much else had changed, though. The books and various awards were still aligned neatly, and I doubted I’d find any dust on the shelves. The overall effect was “serviceable and classy,” which pretty much fit the chief to a T.
He leaned forward and interlaced his fingers together on the desk in front of him. His face fell into lines of concern that I knew weren’t fake. “I’m not going to waste time with bullshit small talk, Kara. I received a tip this morning, from an anonymous person, stating that the deaths of Barry Landrieu, Evelyn Stark, and Thomas Chartres are connected. And that we should be looking at you as a murder suspect.”
I took an unsteady breath. “As I told Sergeant Crawford, yes, I knew all three. And no, I sure as hell didn’t murder any of them.” I gave him a terse explanation of who each person was—everything I’d told Sarge. Okay, maybe not everything. I could probably safely leave out the bit about the demons and portals and whatnot.
