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Once I was finished, I glanced around me, hoping one of them had had the common sense to bring beer. Alas, I had to settle for a room-temperature Diet Coke. I drank the whole thing in one long gulp, the fizz bubbling up in my throat.
The silence was long and heavy, with the men staring at each other, then at me. I wondered if perhaps men parsed information through the air, like intellectual osmosis. Finally Cash cleared his throat. I hadn’t realized how quiet it had gotten until he spoke, and every word was suddenly as loud as a shout.
“If all that is true, we need to get Wilder’s brother moved to a different jail immediately. Even county lockup will be safer for him than the sheriff’s office.”
“We might be able to use their treatment of Wilder as probable cause that Hank’s safety is at risk,” Matt suggested. He started rifling through the papers next to him, though I couldn’t for the life of me imagine what could be printed there that might help us.
He grabbed a thick, stapled list and began flipping through it. If he knew what he was after, all the power to him. I didn’t know Matt well enough to have an opinion on whether or not he was a genius or an idiot, but if Cash trusted him, it was good enough for me.
“There’s a judge in Hammond I’ve worked with before. He’s got a soft touch about supernatural issues,” Matt announced.
“You mean he thinks we’re people,” Wilder corrected.
“I mean he doesn’t sympathize with the Church of Morning, and he’s more likely than anyone else within fifty miles to get your brother moved. I can’t guarantee we can get Hank somewhere nicer, but it’ll be a hell of a lot safer than him staying here.”
Wilder and I exchanged wary glances. If the jail in another parish could offer Hank more security, that was great, but I didn’t think he was going to be truly safe until he was back with Callum.
“I think we’re missing the point,” I said. “If Deerling is crazy enough to kill ten werewolves in as many years, he’s crazy enough to kill a woman and frame a werewolf for doing it. I don’t think Hank was the one who killed that woman.”
Wilder frowned. “Even seeing what we saw at the church?”
“If you’re willing to think it was him, fine. I know what we saw was messed up, but we didn’t see him kill her. And as much of a dick as your brother can be, I don’t think he’s ever murdered anyone in cold blood before.” I wasn’t sure if it was true or not, but it sounded good in front of the humans. And if Hank had killed anyone, I imagined it more as a heat-of-the-moment bar brawl sort of thing. Not cold-blooded homicide.
“It’s not enough for us to take Hank and get out of here. We need to get this guy. He can’t be left to hurt anyone else.” I was shaking my head as if there might be any disagreement. Really, I think we all agreed if Deerling was responsible for killing someone, he needed to be brought to justice.
Even if he hadn’t killed her, he was still to blame for her death.
But the more I thought about it, the more certain I became that Hank hadn’t been the one to do her in. The signs of an animal attack were there, but he hadn’t had enough time to do that sort of damage. Only a minute or two had passed from the time Wilder and I saw Hank lunge at her until she had disappeared.
Nothing about this sat right.
“What do you suggest?” Cash’s tone was grumpy. Given how little most of us had slept over the last couple days, it wasn’t too surprising we were starting to get annoyed with each other.
“For starters, we should bring in the real cops.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Wilder countered.
“You wouldn’t.” Cash wasn’t looking at Wilder, but the way he spoke made me think he’d been doing some digging on the younger Shaw brother. My curiosity was piqued, but now was so not the time for this.
“Outside cops are less likely to be under Deerling’s influence.” I picked up a napkin left from the previous day’s lunch. I needed something to do with my hands. “They won’t have the same prejudices and preconceived ideas. I think they’ll be more willing to believe Tim’s a killer. Especially if we can show them that creepy-ass compound of his.”
“You mean the compound we were trespassing on? It’s all private property. They won’t be able to search anything without a warrant, and they’ll need a good reason to get one.” Wilder glanced at Cash. I suspected he was hoping for a voice of reason to back him up.
“Isn’t my testimony about being kidnapped and almost killed enough?” My voice hitched up. What kind of stupid world was this where I couldn’t get a man arrested for trying to murder me? Some justice system.
“It doesn’t look great that you were already arrested for trespassing on his land,” Cash agreed. “He could probably play the harassment card successfully, even with outside cops. There’s no evidence Deerling was responsibl
e for grabbing you. You said yourself you didn’t see him when you were there.”
I crumpled the napkin in my palm. I wanted something that would make a more dramatic show of how I felt. A pop can to crunch up or a glass to break under the pressure. Squishing a napkin didn’t have the same effect.
Wilder lifted his hand like he might touch me, thought better of it and scratched his chin. “There’s another problem with calling in outside police.”
“Jurisdiction?” Matt said.
“Well, that and something Genie and I did before leaving New Orleans.”
“You were in New Orleans?” Cash’s attention was all for me. “After you left?”
