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“None of that is your concern,” Samael said coolly.
“Like hell, it’s not,” Liam shot back. The temperature dropped further, and his breath misted, but he was too annoyed to care. “Everything that happens to the people in this town is my concern because it deeply affects Cora. She grew up here, and she loves this place and the people in it. She’s made it her life’s work to protect them and keep the peace. Now, with two unsolved murders, Cora’s in a tailspin, trying to track down a possible serial killer, and I’m supposed to be helping her do it. It’s not like I can just pull her aside and say, ‘Oh, so sad about the poor lassie who got murdered, but, hey. Look! Doesn’t Finn Walsh cut a fine figure in that penguin suit of his?’ In case you’re unfamiliar with females, let me assure you that dead bodies and unsolved murders do not typically inspire feelings of romance.”
“Be that as it may, you must find a way to guide her toward Finn,” Samael said.
“Have faith, ruffian.” Agon was holding a French fry between two fingers. He turned it this way and that, studying it in the sunlight in fascination. Liam frowned, wondering how he’d missed the angel pilfering a piece of his dinner. “Even in the darkest times, there are opportunities to experience light. You just have to know how to recognize the moments when they arise.”
Too tired to decipher the angel’s cryptic words, Liam sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll try to stay alert for these opportunistic blasts of light. Any other bits of wisdom you’d like to impart? Anything, oh, I don’t know...useful, for a change?”
The snowy-winged pains in the backside didn’t bother answering. Of course. Instead, they began to fade like wisps of fog dissolving in sunlight. Apparently, the meeting was over, and they weren’t going to dignify Liam with a response.
“His arrogance knows no bounds,” Samael said to Agon as they shimmered away.
“All humans are riddled with imperfections,” Agon commented. “But they can change for the better.”
“Can he?” Samael’s skeptical voice grew fainter until it was nothing but a soft echo in the distance. “I rather think he enjoys being difficult.”
“Funny, I thought the same of you,” Liam muttered. But they were long gone. Liam was alone in the car once again, with nothing but a bag of cold fast food for company.
7
Cora crept through the overgrown grass with Liam close behind her. Taking care not to be seen, she approached the young man’s hideout behind his mother’s house with cautious steps. “Slice Biddlesworth,” she said under her breath. “You are not the sharpest—”
“Atoolshed?” Liam snorted in disbelief, taking in the rickety wooden structure against the fence. He didn’t bother keeping his voice down because it wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. “Is the man daft? This is no proper hideout.”
Cora had to agree. For one thing, Slice’s motorcycle was parked right outside the shed, and his Booze Dogs club jacket was draped over the seat. For another, empty beer bottles littered the grass outside the door, and loud music blared from within. Finally—and this was the real tipoff—the shed door was wide open, and Slice was slouched on an old futon couch, drunkenly hollering the lyrics to Radiohead’s “Creep.” He wouldn’t have been easier to find if he’d placed a blinking neon arrow in the yard pointing the way.
It was late afternoon on Monday, and Cora and Liam had finally tracked down Slice’s mother’s house. They’d arrived with the intention of questioning Mrs. Biddlesworth on her son’s whereabouts, but it hadn’t been necessary.
Cora dodged an empty beer bottle as it came sailing through the shed door, then called out, “Mr. Biddlesworth?”
The young man swiveled his head toward the entrance, regarding her and Liam through bloodshot eyes. Deep lines of fatigue were etched into his boyishly handsome face, and his blond hair stuck up in all directions like a porcupine. He was wearing a pair of rumpled jeans, worn motorcycle boots and a beer-stained T-shirt. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “Who are you?” he mumbled.
“Can you please turn that down?” Cora yelled as politely as she could. The music was so loud, every note was like sharp little jabs to her eardrums.
Slice fumbled for a remote in the futon cushion and finally shut off the music. Oh, blessed, blessed silence.
“Thanks,” Cora said. “Mind if I come in?”
Slice rubbed his bleary eyes and shrugged. “Fine. What do you want? I told my mom not to say where I was.”
“She didn’t. We figured it out.” Cora reached into her pocket, withdrawing her badge and introducing herself and Liam.
Slice’s attitude changed so fast it was almost comical. He went from a morose drunk to a sloppy, nervous wreck in under five seconds. He lurched up from the futon and tried to steady himself on the wall, his gaze darting frantically between them. “I don’t know anything!”
“All we want to do is ask you some questions about Lindsey Albright,” Cora said calmly. “We need you to come with us to the station now.”
“I heard what happened, and I didn’t do it,” Slice slurred, trying to lean against the wall, but miscalculating the distance and stumbling. How drunk was he? “I would never hurt Lindsey... Neverever. She was my girlfriend.” He squeezed his eyes shut and sobbed. “Ilovedher.”
“I’m sure you did,” Cora soothed, approaching him slowly, like she would a frightened animal. The poor man was so distraught, she felt a sudden stab of pity for him. Guilty or not, his pain was etched all over his face, and being drunk only compounded it. “Come with us to the station, and you can tell us all about it.” She gave him her most encouraging smile and softly patted him on the back. After a few kind words of understanding, she was leading Slice out the door and across the yard. Cora did her best to keep him engaged in conversation, and he seemed too drunk to realize where they were headed.
“Lindsey was the best,” he said with a hiccup. “She was my best girl.”
“Of course she was.” Cora signaled Liam to quickly open the car door. Liam was letting her take the lead on this, probably sensing that Slice wouldn’t respond well to his more aggressive style of persuasion. So far, so good.
But the moment Slice saw the open car door and Liam standing beside it, he balked. Cora couldn’t blame him. With his granite expression and muscular build, Liam looked like one of those guys in mafia movies who were sent to “persuade” people.
“Not going anywhere.” Slice took a jerky step back.
