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Theo did some swiping, and a photograph appeared on the large wall screen. It was the purple car that had chased us toward the gate. And it had been flattened, and metal curled from its edges, as if something had tried to pry it apart.
“No more running board lights,” I said. “The driver?”
“And passenger, both dead on scene.”
“Where?”
“Not far from the gate. On the Chicago side.”
“Probably at a prearranged spot,” I said, and glanced at Theo. “You said the car pulled in behind us—had been waiting for us to pass.”
He nodded. “She probably told them to wait there.”
“And they chased us toward the gate,” I finished. “Because she wanted us to fight that battle.”
“Something’s bothering me,” Petra said. “Why couldn’t she just go around it? Like, if she really knew the defense was there, why not come in from some other direction?”
“A very good question,” Roger said. “Add it to the list.”
I looked back at the car. “Did she kill them?”
“Not exactly,” Roger said. “How did you put it? Chaos demon does chaos. A combine rolled over onto their vehicle.”
The room went dead silent.
“Damn,” Petra murmured. “Miserable way to die. And ‘don’t do business with demons’ is the moral of that story.”
“Yeah,” I said. “They find anything on them or at their residences that might tell us where she is or what she’s looking for?”
“Nothing yet,” Roger said. “But crime scene guys are still looking.”
Theo cleared his throat. “Would this be a good time to mention your files?”
“No, but there’s no good time. And that’s my problem, not yours. I found nine cases in which she provided information. That’s been over the last three years.”
He put a new image on screen—a chart of allegations, dates, and results. “Five led to arrests,” he continued. “Fraud, burglary, gambling.”
We read through the data quietly. There was a mix of dates,responding precincts, incident locations. And nothing obvious stood out.
“I don’t see any patterns,” Theo said.
“There may not be one,” Roger said. “I think I’d have seen it over the years.”
“Other than her,” I said, and they both looked at me. “She’s the pattern—the connection, I mean. She’s a demon, and she was a criminal, right? Some may have been rivals. Some might not have given her the respect she thought she was owed. Some might have been just for fun.”
And I didn’t see anything here that would help us.
“What about the information you gave to her?” Theo asked. “Did she ask any pointed questions about Chicago, magic, sorcerers, anything like that?”
“I reviewed my notes,” Roger said. Then he walked to the table, propped a hip on the corner. He looked tired, and I guessed he’d spent many hours on those notes. “Our conversations were usually short. She provided information. I noted it, reported it. If a case involved supernaturals, she might ask about them generally. I was friendly because she was useful. But I only gave her public information. Nothing that she wouldn’t have been able to find online.”
“Maybe you were her thermometer.”
“What?” Roger asked, head snapping over to look at Petra.
“She might not have been using you for information, but to get a read on things. Maybe she hoped that if something important happened, you’d tell her. Or she’d read your excitement.”
Roger stood up again, frowning as he considered that. And it seemed to lighten him.
