Aarseth chuckled, staring at me from the rearview mirror.
I leaned against the passenger window. The cold glass slowed the trucking headache headed my way.
Deputy Aarseth ushered me into an interrogation room. White brick walls absent of any decoration or windows stretched around a singular table, which was pushed against the wall opposite the only door. Three chairs were set around the table—one on each end and one in the center, facing the wall. Two half-sphere security cameras clung to the ceiling on each side of the small space.
I sat at one end of the table, my hands cuffed together in front of me. Fatigue had taken over my pride. I lay my cheek on the sticky surface and closed my eyes, hoping to catch a quick snooze before they decided to come in and interrogate me about the bar fight. I must have drifted into some sort of slumber, because I jumped awake when someone slammed the door. Drool dangled off my lip and down my chin. I wiped it away, then used Xander’s sleeve to scrub it off the table.
“I was having the best dream,” I said, turning to face the intruder.
A plain-clothes detective stood alone against the door. He had a receding hairline that started well behind his ears, and brown eyes with more baggage than a tri-state hooker. His stomach bulged over his waistline, and he wore his suit loose and unfitted.
“You want to hear about it?” I asked.
“No,” he said, shuffling through the room and sitting across the table from me.
“Well, it was me and your sister in Cancun. We sat on a private beach, drinking something cold, and we wore nothing at all. You woke me up when things were heating up beyond the weather.”
The detective folded his hands under his chin and listened to me.
“She looks a lot like you. I mean, you have more hair and bigger tits and less facial hair than her… but, I mean, she’s a sweet girl. Great personality.” I gave him two thumbs up.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
“I do,” I said. “Dimwit something or other arrested me. Apparently, getting jumped by four men is illegal. So, I’m here to do my time.” I held up my hands and jangled the handcuffs to prove my point.
The detective licked his lips, then leaned back in the chair. “My name is Detective Jeremiah Gross. Could you state your name for the record?”
“Joseph Hunter,” I said.
“And Joseph, what were you doing on the date of November 27, 2019?”
“I’m terrible with dates. Was that tomorrow? Or last week?”
He shifted enough to reach into his back pocket and draw out a can of Copenhagen. He packed it against the palm of his hand, and then placed a hefty pinch in his mouth. “What were you doing today, November 27, 2019?”
“Well, I started the morning in bed, beside your sister. And that excited me, if you know what I mean. Do you want me to continue?”
“Did you call in a fire tonight from… “ he pulled out a small notebook from his front pocket, flipped it open, then read my address in a bored tone.
“I did not,” I said. Not a lie, either. Xander had called it in.
“Do you live at the stated address?”
“I do.”
“Do you know that your premises caught fire tonight? That emergency services were called to your property?”
“I do,” I said, my stomach tightening. I scraped my teeth over my lip and waited for him to state my charges.
“As evidence to the origin of the fire was investigated on the said date at the said address, we stumbled upon six humanoid remains. We checked the records to confirm any home burials, and we found no such confirmation. You aren’t here for a bar fight, Mr. Hunter. I am detaining you on five counts of murder.
“No, you’re not,” I said, nearly whispering it. After a pregnant second of silence passed, I slammed my fists onto the table and screamed, “No, you’re fucking not! How do you know those shit-heads didn’t break into my home and burn the place down, killing themselves in the process?”
“Mr. Hunter,” the detective said, flipping through his little notebook, then reading, “‘you have the right to retain and instruct Counsel in private, without delay. You may call any lawyer you want. There is a 24-hour telephone service available which provides—‘”
“Fuck you,” I said again. “You can’t hold me here. You can’t fucking arrest me.”
“‘—is given without charge and the lawyer can explain the Legal Aid Plan to you. If you wish to contact—‘”
“I’ll contact your fucking supervisor. This is a mistake.” The energy coursing through my body masked my lingering pain and allowed a fresh current of magic to swell. I reached for it, ready to melt the handcuffs and explode my way out of the jail. Mel was gone. She needed me. I had found Elizabeth. I had been so close, and now, I needed to get back to her to find my daughter. I couldn’t sit here and listen to this burnt-out detective read me my rights.
“Do you understand?” he asked, lowering his notebook and regarding me with curiosity.
“I understand one thing,” I said, leaning over the table. “I understand I need to get out of here.” If I mentioned Mel, that wouldn’t solve anything. They didn’t have the resources to fight common criminals. How would they find my daughter who was taken through supernatural means? I had to trust Xander. I had to trust that beautiful, infuriating asshole to save me again—even though that cock-face was the reason I was in this position.
The detective tilted his head. “You understand what I read
