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My annoyance over his behavior faded a little. I wouldn’t be at my sweetest if someone were calling me names favored by slave-owning racists over a hundred years ago. I’d heard some of Hank’s favorite derogatory terms. If I’d been on the receiving end of any of them, I would want to leave him here to rot.
Cash forced a small smile and nodded in answer to Wilder’s question. “He seems to be in good shape. I’m not sure how his treatment has been—he looked a bit bruised—but he’s otherwise okay.”
He was in jail and charged with murder, but at least he wasn’t dead. It wasn’t the most ideal outcome, but I felt like we were a step ahead of where we’d been the night before. Hank was alive, and that was a small mercy.
“I don’t think I need to tell you guys how serious this whole thing is. The story hasn’t broken yet, but when the media hears that a werewolf killed a pretty young woman… Especially a werewolf as charming as your brother? It’s not going to look good.”
“That’s the whole point.” I sighed. If we were going to make any kind of progress, Cash would need all the details.
I filled him in on everything that had happened after I left the previous morning. I told him about almost being driven off the road, and the video Timothy Deerling had sent Callum. Any time Wilder felt I’d left something out or hadn’t gotten the details right, he interjected, but otherwise he let me tell the whole story.
It took me close to twenty minutes to cover everything, and throughout my narrative Cash said nothing. He sat back in his chair and shifted his attention from me to Wilder, occasionally taking a moment to write something in his notebook. He managed to fill two or three pages without actually saying a word.
I finished by telling him what I’d said to McGraw, and the little tidbits Josie had let slip to me during our brief chats.
“And how about you?” Cash asked Wilder. “What’s your experience been like since they locked you up?”
“They roughed me up when they first brought me in, but I’m guessing you saw what I did to that one deputy.”
“Anderson, yeah. He’s pretty insistent on pressing charges for that.”
Wilder nodded. He must have been expecting it. I suspected if Anderson said he’d let the whole thing drop for an apology, Wilder would take the criminal record instead.
“You know battery on a police officer is a felony, right? You could go to prison.” When Wilder didn’t reply, Cash continued, “I’ll work on getting the charges dropped, based on the circumstances. We’ll see how amenable they are, but I wouldn’t hold your breath. I think I can argue that they took you by surprise and you were trying to defend yourself and Genie. Maybe if I can shift some blame, they’ll change their tune.”
“The princess can defend herself,” Wilder muttered.
I suppressed a smile. Cash maintained an impassive frown.
“Be that as it may, I’ll take the arguments where I can get them. I think they’re more interested in Hank anyway. Ideally I’d like to see them drop all charges against you and Genie, and in my brief discussion with Sheriff McGraw he implied they might be willing to do just that, provided you two get out of town.”
“That’s amazing.” I knew I should have sounded happier, but there were a dozen different but replies coming to mind.
Wilder voiced one of them for me. “I’m not leaving without Hank.”
We couldn’t leave Hank here. Not knowing what they’d done to him. But we also couldn’t help him if we were in jail with him.
“I think the sheriff is in on it,” I announced. “If we can make him think we’re leaving, we might be able to work the case from nearby.” I looked at Wilder. “We passed a motel not too far from here. If we set up there, we could find out what Timothy is up—”
“No.” Cash held up a hand and shook his head emphatically. “I’m not getting you out of here just so you can turn around and get in even more trouble. Jesus, Genie, what’s gotten into you? You’re not acting like yourself at all. The girl I know would take a pardon, say thank you and go right back to her normal life. How can you possibly think this is a good idea?”
“Hank is pack.”
“Hank is a bigoted asshole.” He looked at Wilder. “No offense.”
“He’s been called worse.”
Cash continued, “My point is, you don’t owe that guy anything. The evidence is stacked against him. And I’ll try to help, even though it goes against all my better judgment, but you’re both done with this. You’re not going to stalk around the parish like Nancy Drew and one of the Hardy Boys. You’re not detectives, and you…” this was directed to me, “…you’re not your sister.”
Those words stung. I was used to getting compared to Secret on a regular basis, but coming from Cash it hurt worse. No, I wasn’t my sister. I didn’t have the power of the federal government at my back, or the ear of the highest powers in the vampire and werewolf communities.
I didn’t need to be my sister.
Being me should be enough.
What hurt worse about the statement was that Cash clearly didn’t think I was capable of being a leader, or helping protect my people. Those were both Secret trademarks.
“Hank is pack. I don’t need to like him to do right by him. Pack is deeper than family. You can abandon your family, but you can’t abandon pack.” I crossed my arms and matched his serious look with one of my own. I didn’t want to act snotty with him, but I wasn’t going to let him insult me, either.
