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He blinked rapidly, and I could almost hear the gears in his head turning as he tried to decide what this was about, what we knew, and what we didn’t.
It’s an expression I’m pretty familiar with.
The corner of his lip turned up very slightly.
Of course it did. He was talking to an elf, after all, and if we were right about him, he was probably more interested in cutting my ears off than he was in answering any of my questions.
“Unless you have a warrant, Mr. Hart—”
I smiled. “It’s Detective Hart, and, now that you mention it, I do.”
His skin went a shade paler.
Good.
Drew pulled out the two warrants and held them out.
Armstrong took them, his eyes flying wide when he read that the first one was for his arrest in the kidnapping and homicide of three people. The second one—which he hadn’t looked at—was for the search of both his office and his house. There was a second copy on its way to his residence with a mixed team of agents and RPD headed by Dan Maza and an Agent Lindow, who I’d never met.
Drew glanced over at me.
“If you’d come with us, please, Mr. Armstrong,” I said, keeping my tone even, but making it firm. Raj had made it abundantly clear that every single one of these had to be done by the book and polite—he’d looked at me on that word—to make sure that there were no loopholes for the undoubtedly high-priced lawyers to pick apart once they bailed their clients out.
Armstrong’s face had gone from pale to a blotchy purplish-red, and the curl of his lip had become an open sneer.
“You will not touch me,” he snarled.
“I’m afraid that’s not how arrests work, Mr. Armstrong.”
He glanced over at Drew, who appeared to be relaxed, his hands resting on his hips. Within inches of his hip-holstered sidearm, currently concealed under his very FBI suit jacket.
“He can touch me,” Armstrong said, pointing at Drew.
Which confirmed that Armstrong had exactly zero magical awareness or ability, since Drew positively radiated energy. But he was currently going incognito—even wearing a simple black mask that matched his black suit—so that anyone who wasn’t themselves a sensitive or a Nid wouldn’t know he wasn’t human.
Drew walked around the back of the desk, taking Armstrong’s elbow and passing me both warrants. I cheerfully began reciting the Miranda Warning as we led Armstrong out between two wide-eyed security guards, back past the horrified receptionists, and into the elevator.
As we descended, I texted Shay, who was in charge of our search team, letting her know they could move in.
The cars were pulling up to the front as we walked out the doors, and Drew guided Armstrong straight into the back of one of the black-and-whites. I handed Shay the search warrant as she got out of her car.
“I got you a present,” I told her.
“You really know how to spoil a girl,” she retorted, taking the paper from me. “What does it look like in there?”
“A lot of people who don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on,” I replied.
She nodded. “You coming?”
I looked over at Drew, who waved me back toward the building.
“Hell, yes.”
* * *
Not only didwe find the beta blockers, but when Shay and I walked into one of the labs, the scientist literally burst into tears and immediately started babbling about how he hadn’t known what they were going to use it for and he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since he found out.
I’d asked him if it had ever occurred to him to go to the police at any point, and he’d sagged like one of those weird wiggly inflatables that stores put out front to get customers’ attention.
