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I could go back further than that. I was a direct descendant of Ananias Dare of the Lost Colony of Roanoke, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. Especially when all the history books said there were no survivors. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I notice you’re still marking your door with those symbols.”
I twisted in my seat. “Are you investigating me?”
Tom parked at a stoplight and turned to look at me. “Ellie, two weeks ago there was a local death every day for four days and each person had ties to you. Of course I’m investigating you.”
My mouth dropped open, my anger rising to the surface again. “You really think I’d kill my own father?”
His face lost all expression. “I thought your father had a heart attack.”
Shit.
“Ellie, I’ve known you since you started kindergarten. There’s no way in hell you killed anyone, least of all your father.”
I turned away, trying to get it together. Tom was trained to get information from people. I needed to start thinking before I spoke, not a natural impulse for me.
The light turned green and Tom drove through the intersection. “So are you going to tell me the real reason why you have those marks on your front door?”
I didn’t answer.
“When I asked you after Marlena’s death, you said it was for protection. Protection from what?”
I closed my eyes and resisted the urge to shake my head. “I told you—it was insurance.”
“Where did you learn how to do that?”
I decided to turn the question around on him. “Where didyoulearn about Algonquian gods and markings?”
“My mother is part Lumbee. I asked my great uncle after I first saw them on your door.” He stopped at another stoplight.
This had to be the longest drive ever.
“And what’s with the marking on your back?”
Goddamn it. How on earth had he seen that?
As if reading my mind, he reached over and shifted the strap of my tank top to the side. “Your shirt isn’t exactly covering it. What’s it for?”
“It was a dare from Claire. She knows how much Myra hates tattoos. So before Daddy died, I got a henna tattoo and pretended it was real.” It was all true except for the dare part. “It’s fading.” Which also meant I was almost out of time. Okeus’s symbol on my back was a temporary protection from the gods and spirits. Once it was gone, my manitou—or life force—would be fair game. And they’d all made it quite clear that they considered my manitou a gourmet feast.
“More Native American symbols, Ellie.”
He was starting to piss me off. “When did it become a crime to be fascinated with another culture? People get Asian symbols tattooed on them all the time.”
The light turned green, and I held back a sigh of relief. We were only five blocks from my apartment.
“You have to admit that the timing is a bit coincidental.”
“How do you know I haven’t been interested in Native American things for a while?”
“Call it a hunch. You just admitted you got the henna tattoo right before your father died, and that’s around the time you started marking your door. Something fishy is going on here.”
I needed to learn to keep my mouth shut. I sucked at this covert crap.
We rode the rest of the way to my apartment in silence, although Tom kept sneaking glances at me. When he pulled into my parking lot, I reached for the door handle like it was my lifeline. He grabbed my arm. “Ellie, wait.”
I paused, refusing to look at him.
