“My legal name isn’t on the lease,” Xander said, still stuck in the foyer. “No one knows I live here. It’s MIS protocol. My employers don’t even have access to this address. How did you find it?”
“You sneaky little bastard,” I said, nudging her arm and snickering. “You tailed the tail, didn’t you?”
She bit her lower lip, confirming my statement with her big, blue eyes. I was back in the lounge two nights ago—my mind cluttered, my hands cold and damp, my stomach a nervous wreck of hummingbirds.
“During my initial reconnaissance, I noticed someone else tagging you from the shadows. Wary that one of your old enemies planned to kill you, I followed the potential threat back to his house—which was here.”
“Wait, what?” Xander asked, finally shutting the door and taking a step forward. “When did this happen?”
“Maybe four months ago,” Dakota said, “when the name attached to the lease didn’t yield consistent results to your life, I dug deeper, tailing your movements straight to you work. Your receptionist was all too eager to provide your name and contact information.”
“You’re crazier than a bagged cat,” I said.
“Is that a pussy joke?” she asked.
A heat flushed over my face, and I stammered to defend my poor choice of simile.
Before I had the chance to blurt out some retort, she said, “Apparently, two officers—just down the street, mind you—had detained a man that fit Joseph’s description. Before they had the chance to question the suspect, another man arrived and brutally attacked him. Funny thing is, the officers reported that they discharged their weapons at the assailant, but nothing happened. No blood. No wounds. Not even recognition that he had been shot. Then, they blinked, and both perpetrators had vanished into thin air. Strange, right?” Dakota leaned a few inches closer to me and inspected my face with the soft touch of her fingers, sending chills down my spine. “You don’t look too terrible.”
“Believe me,” I said, my voice a rasp, “that’s not even the worst compliment I have ever received.”
The three of us sat in silence for a second. Dakota’s hand remained on my battered face, our eyes exploring each other.
Xander shattered the thick silence by clearing his throat, asking yet again, “Who are you?”
“Is he always like this?” Dakota asked me, tearing her attention—and fingers—from me.
The stored tension in my body released as I exhaled for the first time in hours. “All he does is nag and repeat himself,” I said. “You’d think my throbbing head occurred after getting pommeled in the face. Nope. It’s from his insipid voice.”
“I’m Dakota,” she said, standing up to greet him and extending her hand once again. “I’m the one from the Snake Head Lounge who stood on the bar and roll-called for any Elizabeth to show up.”
Xander nodded in remembrance. “You introduced us to Dr. Tacet, to—” he didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. We all knew what he had meant to say. To hide Melanie’s body.
“Speaking of,” Dakota regarded me, “the doctor has finished with her body. What should we do with it? Derek and Marie have been released to Mr. Anderson’s parents.” Those were Melanie’s adopted mom and dad, who had also died that same night. “They’ll coordinate and schedule the memorial services from there. Once I know a date and time, I’ll share that information with you. Would you like Mel to be included in that?”
“No,” Xander answered for me. “Have Dr. Tacet bury her in a private mausoleum within his cemetery. I’ll front any of the costs. Make sure her tombstone has her real name. Melanie Selene Hunter. As for the death certificate, as far as the world knows, she’s missing.”
I licked my lips, thankful for Xander. No one would go looking for Melanie in a graveyard, and burying her in a private area prevented the public from stumbling upon her name. “What did he say? Did he connect her to me?” I asked.
“No,” Dakota said. “And no one will. Unless we’re tipped off or we get lucky.”
Getting tipped off by Hephaestus or Hecate sounded pretty likely to me. What better way to capture or kill me than to force me into a jail cell where I couldn’t run or hide?
“You cleaned up the scene that night? At Medea’s?” Xander asked.
Dakota nodded. “Yeah. The that next morning, I was there on official business. And at the Anderson’s just before that. We didn’t find any evidence of Joesph’s or your involvement at either place.”
“Did you find any evidence, any suspects at all?” I asked, hoping she’d found something that we had missed in our rush to exit Medea’s house before someone called the police.
“Whatever we did or didn’t find is classified information pertinent to two separate homicide cases. I can’t release that evidence to civilians.”
I chuckled. “Bullshit. What do you want for it?”
“We made a deal already. I cleaned up the crime scene in Medea’s basement and arranged for your daughter’s body to be taken care of by Dr. Tacet. I held up my end of the deal. Now you need to help me find my father.”
Ain’t life a pocket of sunshine?
Xander scoffed. “Joey’s going to help you find someone? He can’t even find a pair of pants in the morning, in his current state.”
“In my defense, all my pants are burned to ash.”
“For my sake,” Xander said, “not his—did you find anything regarding a woman—”
“I know what you’re implying,” Dakota said. “I know of the Nephil. Of Joey’s recent troubles with Hephaestus and Hecate. If I did possess any information, though, what incentive would I have to pass it over to you?”
“You think you have the ability to locate and detain a Nephil?” Xander asked her. “Detective, if you have any information at all, you’d find it in your best interest to hand over. Not only for your
